Twisted Lies: A Fake Dating Romance

There was something about the morning after that always made the previous night’s events seem surreal.

Less than twelve hours ago, I’d been curled up beneath a table in my living room, convinced I was living my last moments on earth.

Now, I was drinking my daily wheatgrass smoothie and eating toast in the kitchen like it was a normal day.

If it hadn’t been for Kage’s presence, I would’ve thought last night had been a dream. Or rather, a nightmare.

“Are you sure you don’t want any food?” A pang of guilt hit my chest when I noticed the purple smudges shadowing his eyes. He must’ve stayed awake all night, and he hadn’t known he would get called to an overnight shift. When was the last time he’d slept?

“Yeah, I gotta leave soon, anyway. Christian gave me the all-clear when I told him you were up.” Kage eyed me with a frown. “You gonna be alright?”

“Yep. I’ll be fine.” I injected extra pep into my voice. If I acted like everything was okay, it’d be okay.

Besides, in the glaring light of day, my panic last night seemed disproportionate to the situation.

It was just a note.

I lived in a highly secure building, I was surrounded by people when I went out, and Christian was going to run forensic analysis on the letter. He was the best at what he did; he’d find the culprit in no time. I was sure of it.

Kage didn’t seem fully convinced by my response, but he didn’t argue.

After he left, I went through the motions of my morning routine as best as I could. Forty-five minutes of yoga, followed by fifteen minutes of meditation, journaling, and many hours of agonizing over what to say to Christian, if I said anything at all.

I should thank him for what he did last night, but every time I pulled out my phone, self-doubt paralyzed me.

I thought him staying with me and asking Kage to look after me was a big deal, but what if he didn’t? He’d worked in security for years. His clients included billionaires and royalty, for Pete’s sake. What’d happened to me probably wasn’t even a blip on his radar.

Plus, he hadn’t reached out all day. No texts or calls, not that I should’ve expected anything else. Obviously, Christian had more important things to do than babysit me. He ran a multimillion-dollar company, and we weren’t even really dating. He’d already gone above and beyond by asking Kage to stay with me overnight.

I didn’t want to embarrass myself by making last night a bigger deal than it was, so I kept my mouth shut and busied myself preparing for an influencer event with an up-and-coming fashion designer that afternoon.

I’d been tempted to skip the event, but I needed something to take my mind off the note and its implications.

You were supposed to wait for me, Stella. You didn’t.

A shiver rolled down my spine as I locked my apartment door behind me. I hadn’t drunk coffee in years, but I was so jumpy I might as well have downed five shots of espresso.

It’s fine. You’ll be in public. Everything will be just fine.

The event turned out to be more fun than I’d expected. It was an early look at the designer Lilah Amiri’s new collection, and the clothes were incredible. The perfect mix of elegance and sexiness. Lilah herself seemed genuinely friendly, which was rare in the fashion world. We’d even exchanged contact information so we could meet up for coffee sometime.

After she excused herself to talk to her publicist, I stopped in front of a stunning, semi-sheer black gown that shimmered with subtle golden threads. The skirt draped to the floor in a lavish sweep, and the way it shone beneath the lights made it look like it was woven from the stars themselves.

The gown was a study in quality, both from the design and craftsmanship perspectives.

My mind drifted toward the stack of unfinished fashion sketches buried in the back of my drawer. Guilt pierced my gut as I tried to remember the last time I’d sketched.

Was it two, maybe three years ago?

I’d always wanted to start my own fashion brand. That was one of the reasons I started blogging and took the job at D.C. Style. I’d wanted to establish a name in the industry and make the right connections first.

But somewhere along the way, I’d gotten so caught up in the daily “emergencies”, brand partnerships, and follower counts that I’d lost sight of my end goal.

My guilt thickened.

I told myself I didn’t have the money to start my own brand anyway, but the truth was, I hadn’t really tried to make something work.

Buzzing from my phone pulled me out of my thoughts.

Natalia.

Dread snuffed out every other emotion faster than a candle in a rainstorm.

I shouldn’t feel that way about calls from my sister, but they were almost as stressful as the calls I used to receive from Meredith.

I eased a deep breath into my lungs.

Cool, calm, collected.

“Hi, Nat.” I dipped my head and walked to a quiet corner near the exit.

“Hi. There’s been a change in dinner plans,” Natalia said, crisp and no-nonsense as usual. “Dad has to leave for a last-minute work trip tomorrow, so dinner’s been moved to tonight. Can you be there at seven?”

My heartbeat wavered. “Tonight?” I checked the clock. It was just shy of five. “Nat, that’s in two hours! I’m at an event right now.”

It was ending soon, and it wouldn’t take me long to reach my parents’ house in suburban Virginia, but I wasn’t ready.

I thought I had a week left to mentally prepare for our monthly family dinner.

Sweat misted my skin at the thought of walking into an Alonso dinner unprepared.

“While I’m sure your influencer commitments are life and death”—sarcasm weighted Natalia’s words—“we’re all busy. Dad is literally going to negotiate a peace deal. Can you make it tonight, or should I tell them you’re busy?”

Should I tell them you’re disappointing them once again?

Natalia and I weren’t close, but I could still read the subtext behind her words.

“No.” I gripped my phone so tightly I heard a small crack. “I’ll be there.”

“Good. They also want you to bring your boyfriend.”

My stomach flipped. “What?”

“Your boyfriend,” Natalia said slowly. “The one you’ve been posting pictures of on Instagram? Mom and Dad want to meet him.”

Over my dead body.

There was no way in hell I’d bring Christian to something as intimate as a family dinner. That would blur the lines of our arrangement too much.

“He can’t make it. He has an important business dinner tonight.”

I was becoming alarmingly good at lying.

First to my followers, and now to my family.

The drink I’d downed earlier sloshed in my stomach, making me lightheaded.

“Fine,” Natalia said flatly. “Just you, then. Don’t be late.” She hung up.

“It was lovely chatting to you too,” I muttered.

I tucked my phone into my purse and whisked another cocktail off a passing server’s tray.

I was still a bit queasy, but if I was going to face my family tonight, I needed all the liquid courage I could get.

As expected, my parents weren’t thrilled when I showed up without Christian. They were used to getting their way, and when they didn’t, it wasn’t pleasant for anyone involved.

“It’s a shame your boyfriend couldn’t make it.” Mom spooned a delicate heap of creamed corn onto her plate. “I expected him to make more of an effort to meet us. Especially considering we didn’t know he existed until Natalia told us.” Disapproval frosted her words.

Neither of my parents were active on social media, so it didn’t surprise me they relied on Natalia to report my comings and goings.

I took a gulp of water, but it did nothing to ease my parched throat or racing nerves. “He couldn’t cancel his dinner, and I didn’t want to say anything about our relationship until it was serious.”

“Is it serious?” My father raised his eyebrows.

Standing at a muscled six foot three, Jarvis Alonso was intimidating both in stature and presence. He’d played football at Yale, graduated top of his class, and held various positions in the private and public sectors before ascending to his current role as Chief of Staff to the Secretary of State.

Meanwhile, my mom was one of the top environmental lawyers in the city and a notorious shark in the courtroom.

Together, they ran the household like they ran their offices—with iron fists.

“I mean, we’re not getting married anytime soon,” I said lightly, evading the question.

“You called him my love in your caption.” Natalia smoothed a manicured hand over her hair. “That sounds serious to me. How long have you been dating again?”

I glared at her, and she blinked back with innocence.

“Three months.” Christian and I agreed that was a decent time frame for our “relationship.” It was long enough for people to think we were serious but short enough that it wouldn’t raise too many questions about why we hadn’t told anyone we were dating until a week ago.

“He’s coming to our next dinner.” My mom slipped into her lawyer voice. It was a voice no one disobeyed, including my father. “One month should be adequate notice for him to clear his schedule.”

I kept my tone even. “Yes, of course.”

Absolutely not.

I’ll come up with another excuse closer to the date. For now, it was easier to appease my parents than to argue.

“Excellent. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s go around the table and share our accomplishments for the past month.” My mom straightened. I’d inherited her height and green eyes but not her passion for a legal career, much to her disappointment. “I’ll start. I won the case against Arico Oil…”

I pushed my food around my plate as my parents and sister shared their latest professional triumphs. This was everyone’s favorite part of dinner except mine. It gave them a chance to brag and gave me a severe case of stomach cramps.

After my dad finished telling us about the multi-country tour he’d organized, it was my sister’s turn.

“As you know, I was up for a promotion at work. I had some strong competition but…” Natalia looked around the table, her face glowing with excitement. “I got it! I got the promotion! You’re looking at the World Bank’s newest vice president.”

She beamed while my parents erupted into congratulatory cheers and my stomach dropped like an anchor to the ocean floor.

“Congrats, Nat.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a smile. “That’s amazing.”

I was happy for her, truly.

But as always, the weight of my inadequacies eroded any joy I might’ve gleaned from my family’s accomplishments.

My mom was saving the environment, my dad was negotiating world peace, and my sister was on track to become the youngest president in World Bank history.

What was I doing?

Pinning my hopes on a campaign I might not get, pretending to date a man I wasn’t sure I even liked, and lying to over nine hundred thousand people about my relationship status.

While my family was sipping daiquiris on life’s luxury cruise liner, I was barely keeping my head above water.

After the hubbub over Natalia’s promotion died down, all eyes turned to me.

“Stella,” my father prompted. “What did you accomplish this month?”

I got fired because I didn’t check my phone for a few hours on a Saturday night. But on the bright side, I gained ten thousand followers after I posted a picture of me and the man I’m dating as a publicity stunt. 

“Well.” I cleared my throat and scrambled for something safe to share. “My blog was featured as one of the top—”

The ring of my father’s phone interrupted me.

“Excuse me.” He held up one finger. “I have to take this.” He stood and walked toward the living room. “Hello, sir? Yes, this is a good time…”

I glanced at my mother and Natalia, who were busy discussing how to celebrate Natalia’s promotion.

I might as well be invisible.

Relief bloomed in my stomach as I stabbed a cherry tomato and brought it to my mouth.

At least I didn’t have to make up some stupid accomplishment to satisfy my parents. For once, their lack of interest in my career was a blessing, not a curse.

I made it all the way to dessert without having to answer a single question when my phone lit with a new text.

Christian: How’s dinner?

A quick flutter disturbed my chest.

Me: How did you know I was at dinner?

Christian: It’s dinnertime. Call me psychic. 

A small smile curved my mouth.

Smartass.

Me: The food is great. The company could be better.

Me: How was your day?

We texted back and forth for a while about my event and his day at the office (boring, according to him). It was our first conversation since last night and surprisingly normal.

Neither of us brought up the note until dessert was finished.

Christian: I have some updates regarding last night.

Christian: When will you be home?

I could practically hear the shift in tone over text.

My stomach pinched with nerves as I typed out my reply.

Stella: In the next hour or so.

The trains ran less often this time of night.

Christian: Give me your address and I’ll send a car. Until we find the person who sent the note, you shouldn’t be taking the metro by yourself this late at night.

A strange warmth glided through my veins.

Normally, I would’ve turned him down, but I didn’t want to take the metro alone again. The station closest to my family’s house was always creepily empty after rush hour, and taking an Uber would be too expensive.

I sent him the address as requested.

Christian: The car will be there in twenty minutes. 

Christian: I’ll see you soon.  

Another flutter disrupted my heartbeat.

The simple promise in his last text shouldn’t excite me so much…but, for reasons unknown to myself, it did.