Twisted Lies: A Fake Dating Romance

I stared at Stella’s latest Instagram post from our ride to the fundraiser over the weekend. My hand on her bare thigh, the vivid green of her gown contrasting with the coal black sleeve of my suit.

Some photos were worth a thousand words. This photo said only one.

Mine.

A strange sensation sparked in my chest before I brushed it aside and tapped on the comments beneath the post. The reactions ranged from curiosity to joy to despair from hundreds of distraught men who bemoaned the loss of a chance with her.

Jayx098: How could you cheat on me like this? I already told my parents we were getting married 🙁 

Brycefitness: ditch the bf and go on a date with me instead. I’ll make it worth your while 😉 

Threetriscuits: i can also wear a suit and cufflinks. just sayin’

My eyes narrowed. I tapped on brycefitness’s profile and studied it. Big muscles. Small brain. Standard gym bro who thought he was God’s gift to women.

How many pounds on a barbell would it take to crush someone? Hmm…

A new text message popped up, disrupting my calculations.

Luisa: Christian Harper. You’ve been holding out on me.

Luisa: Why didn’t you tell me you were dating Stella??

A frown touched my face. I eyed brycefitness’s profile one last time before I closed out of the app. He’d gotten lucky.

Part of me, even the part that thrilled at the coppery scent of blood and fear, recognized my reaction wasn’t normal. It’d been one comment on Instagram, for fuck’s sake.

I had a business to run, yet here I was, scrolling through fucking social media on my burner account.

No profile photo, no bio, no followers. One following.

The turquoise ring burned in my pocket as I typed out a response.

Me: It was irrelevant.

Stella hadn’t shown my face in the photo, but enough people saw us together at the gala for news to spread.

Apparently, the news had since escaped the confines of D.C. society and reached New York.

Luisa: You acted like you didn’t know her at the dinner! 

Me: I didn’t want to sway your decision.

There was a long pause before she replied.

Luisa: What decision?

Me: Don’t lie, Lu. I’m better at it than you are.

Luisa: You’re such an ass.

Luisa: Anyway, it wouldn’t have swayed my decision. I’m 95% set on who I want our next brand ambassador to be.

I stared at the text. My fingers drummed an absentminded rhythm on the armrest.

After another moment of deliberation, I replied.

Me: I’m glad. It’s been a long time coming. 

Neutral, semi-disinterested.

She took the bait, as I knew she would.

Luisa: You’re not going to ask who it is?

Me: I was at the dinner too. The answer is obvious.

I left it at that. Luisa was smart enough to know who I meant.

A knock split the silence.

I flicked my gaze up. “Come in.”

Kage entered, so tall and broad he barely fit through my office’s door frame.

“I hear you got a girlfriend.” He wasted no time in cutting to the chase. “How did I not know about this?” An accusatory note crept into his voice.

He was my oldest and, now that Rhys was gone, my most sought-after employee by clients. He was also the only person at Harper Security who didn’t blow smoke up my ass—a liberty I granted him for saving my life in Colombia a decade ago.

“I run a security company, not a gossip magazine. My personal life is no one’s business.” An edge ran beneath my otherwise indifferent tone. His liberties only went so far.

Kage held my stare for a second before he looked away. “Understood. But the team is curious. You dating an influencer is…unexpected.”

I leaned back in my chair and steepled my hand beneath my chin. My phone had been blowing up all day with people expressing similar sentiments. Every new message and call chipped away at my patience, and Kage’s observation was no different.

“Been looking into her, have you?” I asked coolly. Stella’s social media was out there for everyone to see, but the thought of my guys poring over pictures and videos of her sent a surge of irritation through my blood.

“Uh, well…” Kage ran a sheepish hand over the back of his neck.“We looked her up during lunch.”

Christ. Every employee at Harper Security was ex-military or ex-CIA, yet they gossiped like high schoolers.

“She’s hot.” Kage sank into the chair opposite mine. “Somehow, I’m not surprised your girlfriend looks like a goddamned supermodel. It’s the charmed life of a billionaire CEO,” he added dryly.

A dark flame kindled in my chest before I smothered it.

“The only thing I’m interested in discussing right now is how we lost the Deacon and Beatrix accounts,” I said coldly. “Not my girlfriend.”

The other man instantly sobered. “I dug into it, and it looks like a classic case of price undercutting. Sentinel promised them more for less. Deacon and Beatrix were always stingy bastards. It’s no wonder they jumped ship.”

True, but I didn’t want rumors circulating that Harper Security couldn’t hold on to its clients.

“You think it’s a big deal?” Kage correctly assessed my silence. “Do we need to get them back?”

“No.” Rule number one of surviving in a cutthroat business: never show weakness, not even to one’s own team. “Let me worry about business strategy. You do what you do best.”

“Kick ass and be devastatingly handsome?”

“If that’s what you think, you need a new mirror, because it’s lying to you.”

“Not all of us can be you, Mr. Pretty Boy, but no woman has ever complained about my looks.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Speaking of, wanna wingman me later? It’s been a while since we hit the bar together. I know you’re a taken man now, but you can draw in the ladies while I close the deal.”

“Can’t.” I stood and adjusted the sleeve of my suit. “Prior engagement.”

“Why am I not surprised? We haven’t gone out together in months.” Kage unfolded himself from his chair. “You ever gonna tell me what these mysterious ‘prior engagements’ are?”

I responded with a sardonic stare.

“Fine. I can take a hint,” he grumbled. “Have fun with your engagement.”

After Kage left, I tidied my desk to its meticulous pre-work state before I exited the office.

Ten minutes later, I was speeding down Connecticut Avenue when my phone rang.

I no sooner accepted the call than an annoyed growl filled the interior.

“What the hell are you thinking?”

“Hello to you too, Larsen.” I made a smooth turn onto a private, tree-lined road. “It’s a shame you haven’t acquired more manners now that you’re royalty. The palace’s etiquette lessons are severely lacking.”

I stopped at the gate and flashed my membership card at the armed guard. He examined it and nodded.

The security scanners took my car’s specs before the gates slid open with a smooth whir. 

“Funny,” Rhys said flatly. “Clients should pay extra for your sense of humor.”

“That’s rich, coming from a guy who has no sense of humor.”

My mouth tugged up at his second, even more annoyed growl.

Rhys Larsen used to be my top bodyguard until he fell prey to the disease people called love. Now, he was the Prince Consort of Eldorra.

Sometimes, I texted him photos of him looking bored and grumpy at various diplomatic functions just to fuck with him. I didn’t need to say anything for him to get the gist.

You’re whipped, and it’s pathetic.

My obsession with Stella might be spiraling out of control, but at least I wasn’t attending ribbon-cutting ceremonies for a charity she liked and planting trees for an Earth Day photo op.

“Don’t try to change the subject. What the hell are you doing dating Stella?” Rhys demanded.

I parked the car in the private garage and walked toward the entrance. The heavy double doors opened with a wave of my card over the reader.

“The same things every man does in a relationship.”

“Cut the vague bullshit, Harper.” A note of warning slipped into his voice. “She’s Bridget’s best friend. If she’s upset, Bridget’s upset. And if Bridget’s upset…”

“You’re going to knock me out with your ceremonial crown?” My shoes echoed against the polished floors, where the giant gold V etched into the middle glowed against the surrounding black marble. “Duly noted. Now, I believe you have an event early tomorrow morning. Better get to sleep, Your Highness. You need your beauty rest for the photo ops.”

“Fuck you.”

“Sadly, while I’m sure you have the women of Eldorra swooning, you’re not my type.” I passed by the restaurant and the entrance to the gentleman’s club before I reached the library. “Give the queen my regards.”

I hung up before he could respond.

I should’ve known he would get snippy about the Stella situation. He was fully whipped by his wife, and she was protective of Stella.

Understandable, but that wasn’t my problem. I hadn’t signed up to be nagged by her friends about my intentions.

I opened the doors to the library and found the person I was meeting seated at our usual table by one of the stained-glass windows. Leather-bound books soared three stories to the cathedral ceiling, and the low murmur of conversation interrupted the otherwise reverent hush.

There was no stern librarian yelling at patrons for talking, but a thirty-thousand-dollar annual fee granted club members more freedom than in any public space.

The library at Valhalla Club was where deals were made and alliances were forged. Every power player in D.C. knew that.

“You’re late.” Cool green eyes tracked my progress as I approached the table. A rare eighteenth-century chessboard sat on top of the thick oak next to two empty crystal tumblers and one full decanter of Glenfiddich 40 Year single malt scotch whisky.

“That eager to lose?” I removed my jacket and draped it over the back of my chair before I sat, my movements unhurried and deliberate.

I rolled my sleeves up and poured myself a glass of scotch. Nothing like a good drink to start off the evening.

Alex Volkov pinned me with a wry stare. “We’re tied for wins.”

“Not after tonight.”

Alex and I had standing chess matches at the Valhalla Club every month for the past five years. Our games were always hard fought and harder won.

We rarely interacted outside the hushed confines of Valhalla and the rare occasion when he needed my help with something cyber-related, but our monthly meetings were one of the few social engagements I truly enjoyed.

“Your hubris will be your downfall one day, Harper.” Alex filled his glass halfway and raised it to his mouth.

“Perhaps,” I agreed. “But not today.”

“We’ll see.”

Normally, our games were silent with concentration, but Alex surprised me as he moved his pawn to e4.

“So, you and Stella.”

“Yes.” A non-answer for a non-question.

“What are you holding over her?”

I paused for a fraction of a second before I countered his move.

The Alex Volkov I knew wouldn’t give two shits about anyone else’s personal life.

“Asking for your fiancée?” Like Rhys’s wife Bridget, Alex’s fiancée Ava was also best friends with Stella.

“Stella has never been interested in a relationship.” Alex ignored my question. “She also didn’t mention a single thing about you or a boyfriend until she posted that photo. Therefore, it stands to reason that you’re blackmailing her.” Those sharp green eyes narrowed. “Then again, you aren’t interested in dating, which means you either want to use her for something or the two of you have struck a mutually beneficial deal.”

This was why I enjoyed Alex’s company. He kept me on my toes.

“Don’t let the conspiracy theories cloud your brain,” I drawled. “You’re losing.”

Blatant lie. We were on equal footing so far in the game.

“Your diversion tactics leave something to be desired, so it’s not my brain that’s clouded,” Alex said. “Maybe Stella will be the one who’ll crack your I don’t believe in love shell. It’s always the unexpected ones.”

I’d never heard him say so many words in such a short period of time. My amusement deepened. “Maybe, but doubtful.”

My feelings toward Stella were…unusual, but they weren’t love. It was hard to feel something I actively despised.

Love made the world go round, all right. In endless, tedious cycles that produced horrid songs, even more horrid movies, and annual abominations like Valentine’s Day.

I rarely found it anything other than poisonous.

“Since when did you become so chatty?” I pushed my knight into a defensive position. “Don’t tell me you’ve evolved into an actual human being. We should put out a bulletin in the Valhalla newsletter. The other members will be thrilled.”

Valhalla Club didn’t have a newsletter, but its members had their own methods for tracking their friends’ and foes’ lives alike.

“As thrilled as they are to learn of your new relationship status, I’m sure.” Dark humor glinted in his eyes. Yet another change from the stoic Volkov I’d met years ago.

We continued the game, but now that Stella had been brought up again, I couldn’t stop my thoughts from straying down paths they had no business traversing.

She hadn’t posted on social media since the night of the fundraiser. She usually posted every day. She hadn’t reached out to me for more photos despite the success of her first post.

Was she second-guessing our arrangement?

A trickle of something cold and foreign washed down my spine. It took me several beats to identify it.

Uncertainty.

Something as unfamiliar to me as rainstorms were to deserts.

We have a contract. She won’t go back on her word.

Yet the urge to check in with her gripped my attention and pulled it away from the carved ebony and ivory pieces scattered strategically across the board.

“Checkmate.” Alex’s cool voice dragged me back to the library.

I blinked away images of green eyes and lush lips and examined the final layout.

Alex had executed a checkmate pattern I should’ve seen from a mile away.

“That was quick.” Disappointment shadowed his face. “You’re off your game today.”

“We’re just getting started, Volkov.” I cleared the board. “Get back to me after the second round.”

But he was right. I was off my game, all because I’d been busy thinking about someone who had no business occupying my thoughts the way she did. She thought her rent at the Mirage was low? That was nothing compared to how she lived rent-free in my fucking head.

Stella may appear sweet and gentle, but she was more dangerous to me than any weapon or rival.

After a second chess game with Alex, where I redeemed myself with a beautifully executed checkmate after two hours of play, I returned home at precisely a quarter to nine.

It took me less than one minute to determine that something was amiss.

The door to my office was open, and I always closed it before leaving.

I granted very few people access to my apartment when I wasn’t here. None of them would come this late at night.

Adrenaline burned through the scotch-fueled murkiness in my blood.

I’d taken advantage of Valhalla’s private car service to shepherd me home given how much I drank, but I had enough presence of mind to soften my footsteps as I inched toward my office.

I glimpsed dark hair through the opening before I pushed open the door, crossed the room in two long strides, and pinned the intruder to the wall with my hand wrapped around their throat.

Icy rage misted my vision with red-tinged white.

I did not appreciate people invading my personal space. Touching my things without permission. Breaking into my house and challenging my authority.

My fingers flexed around the soft column of their throat.

The vibrations of a fear-laced gasp trembled against my hold before it spilled into the air.

“Christian.” The familiarity of the soft plea tugged the haze away from my eyes until all I could see was green.

Huge, lush green eyes, framed by inky lashes and acrid with panic.

Fuck.

An arctic splash of recognition wrenched my hand from her throat.

We stared at each other, our breaths ragged in the quiet space between us—hers from fear, mine from adrenaline and regret.

A tendril of anger worked its way into the mix and stretched my words taut. “Ms. Alonso. Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

She was one of the few people on earth who had a key to my apartment, but I’d instructed her to visit during specific time windows. Friday night wasn’t one of them.

She was lucky I wasn’t the shoot first, ask questions later type like some of my men.

An image of Stella shot passed through my mind, and coldness gathered in the pit of my stomach.

She lifted her chin, clearly unimpressed with my greeting and sharp tone. “I was watering your plants like you’d asked me to.” Despite her pointed tone, her breaths remained shallow, and tiny shivers worked their way through her body until my tendril of anger dissipated.

It was only then that I noticed the shattered watering can on the floor. The escaped water formed a small, glistening puddle against the customized wood, and the can’s shiny black ceramic pieces reflected my face back at me.

A hundred different faces, broken up with jagged edges and distorted features.

I dragged my eyes back up to Stella’s. “You’re watering my plants at nine o’clock at night?”

“I forgot earlier because I was busy. You said only to come in on weekdays, and I didn’t want to leave them all weekend. They’re very sensitive to—”

“Busy doing what?”

I no longer cared about the plants.

“Personal things.” Instead of collapsing beneath the weight of my heavy stare, she straightened and tilted her chin another inch higher. “We’re not actually together. You’re not entitled to know my every move.”

Annoyance wisped through me at the reminder.

“I am when your busyness leads you to break into my apartment at nine o’clock at night.”

“I didn’t break in. I had a key!”

“Used outside the allotted time frames. A good lawyer could argue the case in my favor.”

Stella’s eyes narrowed. Her breaths had finally evened, and I suspected her flushed cheeks weren’t due to embarrassment. “You’re the security expert. If you’re that worried, perhaps you should create a key that can only be used during your specified time windows. That wouldn’t be difficult for a genius like you, would it, Mr. Harper?”

I allowed a soft laugh to slip free.

Stella’s sass came and went like flashes of lightning. Every time it appeared, it electrified me, because that was when I glimpsed the real her. The one lying semi-dormant beneath her carefully cultivated calm and desperate desire to please. Somewhere within that cocoon of mild manners was a brilliant butterfly yearning to break free.

“It wouldn’t be difficult at all.” My gaze grew heavy-lidded as I perused her from head to toe. “But then I wouldn’t come home and find you waiting for me.”

A sliver of toned stomach peeked out from under her cropped gray sweatshirt while matching terrycloth short shorts clung to her hips and thighs. An endless expanse of smooth, golden brown legs ended with bare feet and red-polished nails.

My throat ran dry. I yearned to run my hands up her body, to hear her sigh with pleasure as I explored the sleek contours of her curves.

She was dressed for bed, with not a stitch of makeup on her face or jewelry adorning her limbs, but she glowed so brightly it reached the darkest corners of my soul.

“I thought you didn’t want that.” Breathless nerves surfaced in her reply.

“Don’t assume what I want, Ms. Alonso.” I kept my voice placid, almost disinterested, but there was nothing placid about the current crackling in the air.

One touch, and the room would ignite.

“Noted.” Stella’s fingers curled around the hem of her shorts until her knuckles whitened.

My eyes dipped to her thighs, and desire flamed hotter in my veins when they clenched beneath my attention.

It was a small movement, nothing more than a subtle tensing of her muscles, but she might as well have reached down and caressed the hardness aching at my groin.

“You should leave,” I said softly, the words rough with restraint.

She didn’t move.

“Unless…” I raised my hand and skimmed it down the side of her neck until I reached the frantic flutter of her pulse. “You want to stay.”

I should stop touching her, and I should keep my distance, but I was mesmerized.

Stella’s swallow was audible in the thick, condensed silence.

“I don’t.” She wavered the tiniest bit on the word don’t. 

“No?” I grazed my thumb over her skin. The small point of contact seared through flesh and bone until the heat spilled into my blood. I lifted my eyes to hers again, my voice hardening. “Then why are you still here?”

Distraction. Obsession. Confoundment.

She was all those things and more.

She should’ve been a simple puzzle to break apart and piece back together, but she was proving more complicated than expected. She was like a jigsaw missing one piece. No matter how hard I searched, I couldn’t find the missing piece, and until I did, she’d continue haunting my thoughts.

There was, of course, another explanation, but I dismissed that one the second it surfaced.

The one that told me I didn’t want to solve Stella Alonso, because once I did, the thread connecting us would be severed.

And for some galling, unknown reason, I didn’t want it to be severed.

She opened her mouth to respond, but I released her and stepped back, cutting her off without a word.

“It’s time for you to leave.” It was no longer framed as a suggestion but an order. “Don’t let me find you in my apartment outside the permitted times again, or you’ll discover there are limits to my generosity.”

Indulging her tonight was a mistake. I’d already bent too many rules for her.

If it had been anyone else in my office, I would’ve punished them for the transgression, not fantasize about how their skin would feel against mine.

Fire sparked in Stella’s eyes.

I expected her to snap back, anticipated it the way an alcoholic anticipated his next sip of liquor. But the fire cooled almost as soon as it kindled, smothered beneath a layer of newly formed ice.

“Understood.” She reached into her pocket and retrieved a brass key, which she forced into my hand. “In fact, you won’t find me in your apartment again, period.”

I didn’t realize how hard I was gripping the key until the jagged edge dug into my palm.

The slam of the front door reverberated through the ensuing silence.

I usually enjoyed the silence. It was peaceful and restorative, but now it seemed oppressive, like an invisible weight pressing against my chest.

The key sank deeper into my palm before I uncurled my hand and shoved it in my pocket.

I stepped around the broken watering can and stalked to my room, where I yanked off my tie and tossed it on the bed.

It didn’t ease the expanding tightness in my throat.

Beneath the ice, Stella had been hurt. I’d glimpsed a kernel of it before her defenses kicked in.

A strange pang hit my chest before I made an impatient noise.

For fuck’s sake.

I’d had a hell of a day. Not just with work, but with all the nosy fuckers in my life who swarmed all over me now that I was finally “dating” someone. I didn’t have time to analyze microexpressions.

I removed my cufflinks and my watch, which I placed parallel to each other on the nightstand.

Understood. In fact, you won’t find me in your apartment again, period. 

What the hell did that mean? If she reneged on our rent deal…

A muscle ticked in my jaw.

I shouldn’t care. I didn’t even like the damn plants. I only kept them because my interior designer insisted they “pulled the aesthetic together,” and I refused to admit failure by letting them die.

But it was the principle of the matter. I couldn’t set a precedent where people backed out of an agreement with me without consequences.

The memory of the fleeting hurt in Stella’s eyes resurfaced like an annoying gnat that wouldn’t go away.

“Dammit to hell.”

With an annoyed growl, I abandoned my better instincts, slammed the bedroom door behind me, and made my way downstairs.