Twisted Lies: A Fake Dating Romance

Luisa: FYI, your girl got the deal.

I stared at my phone, suddenly more interested in Luisa’s text than Kage’s briefing on the Rutledge situation.

I’d told her to update me when she made a final decision, and she’d chosen correctly, as I’d known she would.

My only regret was not seeing Stella’s face and the way her eyes must’ve lit up when she got the news.

We’d have to celebrate later—for appearances’ sake, of course, since that was what a real couple would do. Maybe dinner in New York or a weekend in Paris…

“…could keep the Rutledge account, but we don’t know if Sentinel—Christian, are you listening to me?” A hint of annoyance worked its way into Kage’s voice.

“Yes. We held onto the Rutledge account, Sentinel will try to steal more of our clients, and they’re allegedly working on something big, but we don’t know what it is yet. Continue.” I looked up, my face hardening. “And don’t question me again.”

Kage’s mouth tightened, but he continued as ordered.

“We’re still gathering intel on Sentinel’s secret project, but we think…”

I dropped my eyes back to my phone and opened Stella’s profile. She hadn’t posted anything new in the past few days, so I settled for examining the photo of us at the art gallery.

Even from the side, she was a vision.

Lush dark curls, flawless skin, and long, lean lines that transformed even the plainest clothing into a masterpiece.

Something tugged low in my gut at the memory of how she’d felt beneath my hands. Of the way her scent filled my lungs when I buried my face in her neck and the little hitch in her voice when I’d touched her.

She’d looked so enraptured by that painting I almost hadn’t wanted to interrupt her, but I couldn’t help myself.

Trying to stay away from her was like the ocean trying to stay away from the shore.

Impossible.

I rubbed my thumb over the phone screen while Kage droned on.

In truth, I hadn’t needed to convince Wyatt of anything at the gallery opening. He’d already agreed to hire Harper Security; we just needed to sign the contract, which I could’ve scheduled during business hours.

But according to Brock, Stella hadn’t left her house since her family dinner, and she’d needed a push to go outside. She shone too brightly to stay cooped up out of fear.

“What’s the latest update on the background checks?” I interrupted whatever Kage was saying to focus on the most important matter at hand: Stella’s stalker.

As expected, he was lying low, and he’d been careful with all the notes he’d sent her. They were all infuriatingly generic with not a single shred of physical evidence to point us in the right direction.

In the absence of new evidence, I’d had Kage pull together a list of everyone in Stella’s life, including old classmates, coworkers, and other influencers. A majority of stalking victims knew their stalker in some capacity, so that was the best place to start.

Kage frowned but wisely didn’t complain. “Nothing suspicious yet. I’ll let you know as soon as we get a hit.” He hesitated, then said, “Listen, I know she’s your girl, but we’re using a lot of resources on—”

He was interrupted again, this time by an incoming call on my phone.

Stella.

It was like I’d conjured her with my thoughts.

I picked up, expecting her to tell me about the Delamonte deal. She dashed those expectations immediately.

“Christian.” Stella’s voice cracked.

Ice doused the warmth that’d flared at the sight of her name.

Something’s wrong.

“Where are you?” I skipped the useless questions—are you okay? what’s wrong?—and cut straight to the heart of the matter.

Despite my calm voice, my hand curled so tight around my phone it cracked in protest.

“Home.” Her reply was barely audible.

“I’ll be right there.”

I didn’t bother putting on a jacket before I left; the only thing I could think about was how upset Stella must be to call me.

If she could, she would keep all her problems to herself and try to handle them on her own. Always helping others and never asking for herself. The fact she hadn’t…

My heart slowed to a deep, ominous thrum, and my hand flexed with the sudden need to strangle something before I forced it to relax.

Until I found out exactly what happened, I needed to keep a level head and not kill anyone—specifically Brock, who was supposed to be looking after Stella.

Kage gawked at me as I yanked open the door.

I never walked out of a briefing, ever. I liked to know everything that was happening in my business, even if it was boring as shit.

“Where are you—”

“Briefing’s over.” I slammed the door behind me, cutting him off mid-sentence.

My footsteps pounded out a cold, furious rhythm as I called Brock on my way to the garage.

Why the fuck hadn’t he alerted me that something was wrong? What was the point of having someone shadow Stella if they couldn’t do their goddamn job?

“Stella. What happened?” I bit out when he answered.

There was a short, startled pause before he answered. “Nothing, sir.”

“Nothing.” My voice dropped to subzero temperatures. “If nothing happened, why did she just call me, sounding like she was on the verge of tears?”

Another pause, this one laced with uncertainty.

“She was home all morning. She went to the coffee shop, received a call, and looked happy as hell. She was still smiling when she returned to her apartment. I don’t know what happened after that.” I heard an audible swallow. “You told me not to monitor her when she was inside her house.”

I had, and that was a fucking mistake. Screw boundaries. They didn’t apply when it came to her safety.

I could practically hear Brock sweating over the line. “Boss, I swear, I didn’t—”

“We’ll talk about this later.”

I ended the call and climbed into my car. If he didn’t have useful information for me, I wasn’t going to waste my time talking to him.

My only focus was on getting to Stella as soon as possible.

Fury flickered in my chest, its icy burn a balm to the hot, unfamiliar panic in my lungs as I sped toward the Mirage.

Between my McLaren and the semi-empty streets, I made it there in five minutes flat.

When I arrived at Stella’s apartment, I found her in the living room, staring at a sheet of paper in her hands.

I didn’t have to read it to know it was another note from her stalker.

Crimson edged my vision, but I kept my expression neutral as Stella lifted her head to look at me.

“I found it in my bedroom,” she whispered. “He was inside my house. He’s never—this is the first time he’s ever…” Her shallow breaths filled the ensuing silence.

I recognized their erratic rhythm and the tiny shivers wracking her body.

She was on the verge of a panic attack.

I crossed the room and eased the letter out of her frozen hands, the gentle movement at odds with the violent roar of blood in my ears.

A cursory glance revealed three typed words.

I warned you.

The roar intensified.

“He’s not here anymore, but I’ll check the apartment just in case.” I forced a soothing note into my voice, even though I wanted to hunt down the fucker and flay him alive. “Stay here.”

I pulled on a pair of gloves and swept the apartment for other signs of disturbance. I didn’t find any, but I’d have to do a more thorough check later.

For now, I needed to get Stella out of here.

I reentered the living room and snapped the gloves off my fingers. The sweep had settled some of the banked rage in my gut, but the sight of Stella curled up on the couch, her knees drawn to her chest and her face blank, brought it roaring back.

“Everything looks clear, but you’re moving into my place until we sort this out.” My voice was even but firm.

I should’ve listened to my gut and insisted she move in with me after the first note, but I hadn’t wanted to push her too far, too soon.

But now that the creep had gotten into her apartment, in my building…

My hand flexed again.

I wanted to wrap it around the throat of the perpetrator and squeeze the life out of them while he begged for mercy. I wanted to watch the light drain from their eyes at the realization of how badly they’d fucked up.

The soothing images of their torture matched the metallic taste of blood on my tongue. I could already taste the vengeance.

Once I found the bastard, I was going to enjoy making them regret every second of their miserable existence.

I breathed through the coldness mounting in my chest and folded the letter into a neat square that I tucked into my pocket.

I knelt in front of Stella so we were at eye level.

“My apartment is airtight. No one can get in without my permission. You’ve seen the systems I have in place,” I said, my face softening. “You’ll be safe there. Do you understand?”

After a long silence, she responded with a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

Movement. We were making progress.

When we arrived at my apartment, I took Stella to the only guest room equipped with bedroom furniture.

Since I never allowed overnight guests, I’d turned the others into something more useful: a cyber-surveillance center, a second office for videoconferences, an extra closet for my suits.

With its king-size bed, walk-in closet, and ensuite bathroom, the one real guest room could’ve passed for a master bedroom, but Stella sank onto the bed without examining her new surroundings.

“Get some rest,” I told her. “I’ll take care of moving your things.”

No response.

I recognized shock when I saw it. As much as I wanted to stay with her, the best thing I could do was give her time to process while I sorted everything else out.

My first order of business after I left her room was another call to Brock, who I ordered to bring up the essentials—night clothes, toiletries, that ugly unicorn Stella loved so much.

My next call was to the Mirage’s chief of security.

Charles picked up after half a ring. “Sir?”

“I want all the security footage from the past day sent to me within the hour.” I dispensed with the niceties and rubbed my thumb over the turquoise ring in my pocket.

No matter how cold the temperature or how long I left it untouched, the stone was always warm.

“Of course. For which camera?”

“All of them.” Stella lived on the tenth floor, but the perpetrator had to have entered and left elsewhere in the building.

“All of them? Sir, that’s—”

“Someone broke into my girlfriend’s apartment today, Charles.” My easy tone didn’t match the danger rising beneath its surface. “You must know that already since you’re my head of security. Perhaps you even have a lead on who broke in. So tell me. Which cameras should I look at if not all of them?”

Silence thundered for a beat before he responded. “I’ll have it to you in thirty.”

“Good. And Charles?”

A nervous swallow rattled the line. “Yes, sir?”

“Fire every security personnel who was on duty today.”

I hung up before I had to listen to his tedious protests.

The security team at the Mirage was good, but they weren’t irreplaceable. There was a reason they were guarding a building and not my VIP clients.

And if they couldn’t even do that right, then they had no business being in my employ.

I provided my staff with exceptional pay and benefits, but I expected exceptional work in return.

Brock showed up soon after my call with Charles with a duffel bag and the unicorn. He set them down in the living room before he turned and ran a hand over his buzz cut.

“Boss, I—”

“You’re dismissed for the night.”

My anger had cooled enough for me to recognize that it wasn’t Brock’s fault the stalker had snuck into Stella’s apartment. His job had been to keep an eye on her, not her house.

Still, my irritation ran sharp enough to turn my words into blades.

Relief spread across Brock’s face before he tensed again. “Just for the night, right? Not forever?”

My lips thinned.

“Right. Gotcha.” He nodded and hoofed it out the door. “G’night.”

I exhaled a long, slow breath and pinched the bridge of my nose.

Sometimes, I truly despised people.

And objects.

I glared at the raggedy stuffed animal polluting my living room. I didn’t understand why Stella loved it so much, or why her followers would rather cuddle with it than me—I hated cuddling, but it was the principle of the matter—but since she did, I swallowed my distaste and took it to the guest room along with her luggage.

“You have a visitor.” I dropped the thing on the bed next to her and resisted the urge to Lysol my hands.

Stella blinked down at the unicorn but didn’t touch it.

“Figured you’d want its company.” Though God knows why. “I also brought some of your clothes and toiletries.”

A strange awkwardness prickled my skin at her continued silence.

Fuck, I hated this. Less than an hour in my house, and she’d already thrown me further off my equilibrium.

But the discomfort was worth knowing she was safe.

Right now, I didn’t trust anyone or anything to protect her except myself.

I cleared my throat and nodded at her bathroom. “A hot shower might make you feel better. Wash off the day.”

No response.

The less Stella reacted, the more the pressure in my chest expanded.

I didn’t know where it came from, but I loathed it as much as I loathed polyester, incompetence, and dessert.

Since she didn’t seem interested in moving on her own anytime soon, I opened the bathroom door to start the shower but immediately grimaced.

Christ. 

I hadn’t entered this bathroom since I moved in years ago, so I assumed the foul smell had something to do with the long-unused drain.

My housekeeper kept the marble floors and counters squeaky clean, but she hadn’t said a damn thing about the smell.

Could no one do their job right?

My teeth clenched as I worked through my options.

Obviously, Stella couldn’t use this bathroom until I fixed the smell. There were other guest baths available, but they also hadn’t been used in a while.

After a minute of tortured indecision, I walked to my private bathroom and turned on the bathtub faucets. I silently cursed the universe as I opened an unused bottle of bubble bath I didn’t even remember buying and slowly poured it into the water.

You really know how to fuck a guy over.

I didn’t know how the hell I ended up drawing a bath for someone else like a damn nineteenth-century attendant, but at least there were no witnesses to my indignity. If anyone saw me like this, I would never live it down.

Stella didn’t protest when I returned to the guest room and carried her into my bathroom along with her toiletries. I set her down on the cushioned bench near the tub and tilted my chin at the eucalyptus-scented bath.

“All yours until I fix a small issue in your bathroom,” I said. “There’s also a guest bath across the hall and to your left if you need to use the toilet at night.”

I turned and was already halfway out of the room when she stopped me.

“Christian. I don’t…” Her small voice shot an arrow straight through my ribs. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Goddammit.

My hand curled around the doorknob until the metal seared into my flesh.

“What are you suggesting?” My voice pitched low with a warning she didn’t heed.

Despite my strange desire to shield Stella from danger, I wasn’t a protector by nature. My version of protection always came wrapped in the pieces of a snuffed-out life and tied with a bloody bow.

Unfortunately for her, she was too innocent and trusting to recognize true danger when she saw it.

“Can you stay with me?” Embarrassment colored her request. “Just for tonight.”

My muscles tightened at the suggestion. I turned, taking in her pale face and the wary way she eyed the tub, like she expected a monster to emerge from its depths and swallow her whole.

“The bathroom is clear, and I’ll be right outside the door.”

I wasn’t immune to bad ideas, but staying in the room with her while she bathed might be the worst idea that had ever existed.

“I know. I just…” Stella faltered. “No, you’re right. That was…I don’t know what I was thinking.”

A shiver wracked her body. She didn’t move from the bench.

I closed my eyes for a brief moment while my silent curses aimed at the universe escalated.

I shouldn’t. I really fucking shouldn’t.

I’d already crossed a line by bringing her into my house and into my fucking bathroom, but the look on her face…

I turned my back again, loathing myself more with every second that passed.

“Let me know when you’re ready.”

Despite my curt tone, a breath of relief touched my back and made my jaw clench.

I didn’t shift positions until I heard the splash of her getting into the tub.

Stella was naked in my bathroom.

Under normal circumstances, my brain would’ve latched onto the obvious—the rosy bloom of her cheeks, the way her skin glistened with water, the fantasy of the sweet curves that lay beneath the bubbles.

Instead, a deep ache settled in my chest at how small and vulnerable she looked in that giant tub. No longer the oasis of calm she presented to the world, but a storm on the verge of breaking.

She reached for her shampoo, but I stopped her before she made contact.

“I’ll do it.”

Instead of arguing like I’d expected, Stella remained quiet until I pulled the bench to the edge of the tub and uncapped her shampoo.

“Your suit will get wet,” she murmured.

I didn’t spare my custom Brioni a glance. “I’ll survive.”

I washed her hair, cleaning each strand with painstaking meticulousness and massaging her scalp with firm, deep strokes until she sank against the side of the tub with her eyes closed.

Her lashes swept against her cheeks in a dark fan, and her breaths gradually evened out into a steady rhythm.

Heat steamed up the mirrors and drenched the room in a sultry haze.

Wearing a suit in a hot bathroom was fucking hell, but I didn’t bother removing my jacket.

It was my first time touching Stella for such an extended length of time, and I was going to savor every second.

It wasn’t sexual, but the simple glide of her hair against my palms slowed my pulse to a torturous crawl before kicking it into overdrive.

Touching her killed me, then brought me back to life again.

The quiet roar of my heart thrummed in my ears. I rinsed out the shampoo and worked the conditioner into her strands.

The irony of me cleaning Stella wasn’t lost on me. She was the purest soul I knew, and I was neck-deep in blood.

The angel and the sinner.

Two oppositional forces with nothing binding us except a sheet of paper and the unquenchable need in my soul.

I didn’t deserve to touch her, but I wanted her too much to care.

After I finished washing her hair, I picked up her loofah, dipped it in the water, and lathered it up.

The gentle lap of the water against the tub tightened low in my gut.

“Lean forward.” Restraint roughened the edge of my voice.

Stella obliged.

I ran the loofah over her back, my eyes tracking every inch of its slow journey down her smooth, bare skin.

The air pulsed with tangible energy as I dragged it up over her shoulder and across her front. Low enough to skim the tops of her breasts, but high enough to keep things appropriate.

Stella’s body went taut when my arm brushed her neck. I paused, picking up on the renewed rapidness of her breaths.

Its rhythm was different this time—heavier, more weighted.

Heat sparked in my gut, and I stood so abruptly she jumped at the movement. “We’re done.”

There was something fucked up about lusting over someone who was traumatized, even for me.

I yanked a bathrobe off where it hung on the wall and held it open, my eyes averted and my jaw tight.

After a beat of hesitation, Stella climbed out of the tub and slipped into it.

I cinched the belt so tight it elicited a small gasp, but at least the oversized robe covered her from her neck to her calves.

I dried her hair briskly and was about to push her through the bedroom and into the hall when her earlier request resurfaced in my mind.

Can you stay with me? Just for tonight.

A new set of curses scorched my tongue before I swallowed them.

“Do you want to stay here for the night?” I asked gruffly.

She hugged her arms around her waist and, after another moment of hesitation, nodded.

Fuck my life.

Still, I pulled back my covers and nodded at the bed. “Get some rest. We’ll deal with everything in the morning.”

It was early in the evening, but exhaustion lined her face and cast shadows beneath her eyes.

I left the room to grab her nightclothes so she could change into something more sleep-friendly, but by the time I returned, Stella was already fast asleep. It was the most at peace I’d seen her in weeks.

I’d never let another person sleep in my bed before. I thought the sight of her nestled amongst the black and gray silks would be strange, but it felt right.

I placed the clothes on the nightstand next to her and tried to catch up on work, but my brain couldn’t focus.

With my building security compromised, the incompetent but annoying shits at Sentinel breathing down my neck, and a thousand emails to wade through, all I could think about was the woman sleeping a few feet away.

She’d been in my house for less than two hours, and she was already wreaking havoc on my life.

I rubbed a hand over my jaw, my aggravation at war with my desire to protect her at all costs.

I’d been wrong.

Stella wasn’t a distraction. She was a danger—not only to my business but to myself and the parts of me I hadn’t known still existed.