Twisted Lies (Twisted 4)

STELLA

March 25

It’s been a month since my dinner with Delamonte, and I haven’t heard a peep from them about the brand ambassador selection. Brady assures me they’ll choose soon, but he’s been saying that for weeks. At this point, I’m convinced I didn’t get it.

On the bright side, I’m still gaining followers, and I’ve gotten two new brand deals in the past week. They don’t pay as much as Delamonte would’ve, but every bit counts. Also, I’m almost at 930K followers, which is wild and a little depressing. It turns out all I needed to do was to get a boyfriend to be more interesting [insert sigh].

Speaking of which…I posted another photo of Christian the other day. The same one I snapped of him when he was on his call (he still hasn’t gotten over losing to a unicorn in my poll. I told him he would’ve won had he shown his face, which went over as well as you’d expect). Not my most creative work, but I’m still nervous about my stalker seeing a photo of us together and snapping.

I know Christian said we need to draw him out, which makes sense. And I trust him to keep me safe. I gave him the stalker’s old letters and his team is…doing whatever it is security people do with creepy anonymous notes.

Still, I have a bad feeling this could all go wrong VERY quickly.

I don’t want to let the stalker situation rule my life, and I WON’T.

But…I’m going to stay put in my apartment and work on my blog until I get an update from Christian. Just in case.

It’s better to be safe than sorry.

Daily Gratitude:

Food/grocery deliveries

Cute loungewear

Building security

* * *

“Get dressed.We’re leaving in an hour.”

I gaped at Christian, who stood in my doorway in a crisp black button-down and dark jeans. It was my first time seeing him in anything other than a suit, and the effect was equally devastating in a completely different way.

“Excuse me?” I tried not to stare at the way his shirt stretched over his broad shoulders and muscular arms.

“We’re leaving in an hour,” he repeated. “There’s an art gallery opening I need to attend. Dress code is dressy casual. I presume you own an appropriate outfit.”

I was wearing a crop sweatshirt and shorts. The chances of anyone dragging me out of my apartment when I’d already changed into my sleepwear were next to zero.

“This wasn’t on our calendar, and I’m busy.” I kept my hand on the doorknob, barring him from entering.

He couldn’t just show up and demand I go somewhere with him last minute. I needed time to mentally prepare for outings that involved extensive socialization with strangers.

Christian fixed me with a dubious stare. “Yes, you look positively swamped with…” His gaze coasted over my shoulder, and my skin warmed when I remembered what he’d find. A pint of Ben & Jerry’s, The Devil Wears Prada onscreen, and the remnants of a takeout salad. “Dairy and fashion magazine tyranny. Miss your old job already?”

“I watch it for the outfits.” I squeezed the doorknob for strength. “I’m sorry, but next time you want me to accompany you to an event, give me more than an hour’s notice.”

Christian appeared unfazed by my pointed suggestion. “I didn’t know Richard Wyatt would be at the opening until thirty minutes ago.”

Wyatt.The client he’d hoped to sign at the fundraiser. “I thought you already closed the deal.”

“Ninety percent. He came back with concerns after reviewing the contract, and I’d prefer to address them in person tonight.” His brows dipped with approval. “When was the last time you left your apartment? You’re wilting.”

My mouth parted in shock at the utter rudeness of his comment. “I am not wilting. I am merely…hibernating.”

Wilting was a word used to describe dying plants, not a healthy human being. I’d never been more insulted, though he wasn’t entirely wrong.

I’d only left my apartment once in the past week, and that was to check on Christian’s plants. We’d gotten over our argument in his office last week, and I had both my keys to his place and my watering responsibilities back.

I’d been subsisting on smoothies and food deliveries, which wasn’t good for my wallet or waistline, and my skin craved the natural warmth of sunshine.

But every time I attempted to go outside, my mind spiraled to the note and all the places my stalker could’ve gotten to me.

I’d depleted the burst of courage I’d gotten the morning after I found the note, and I had no idea how to replenish it.

“Call it whatever you want. The result is the same,” Christian said, clearly unimpressed by my euphemism. “Fifty minutes to get ready.”

“I’m not going.”

“Forty-nine minutes and fifty-seven seconds.”

“Nothing’s changed in the past three seconds. I’m. Not. Going.”

“This was our deal.” His cool voice sent a rush of indignation down the back of my neck. “You accompany me to events; I pose in your photos and act as your boyfriend. You don’t want to cut off the momentum when it’s going so well, do you?”

He was right, but that didn’t mean I appreciated Christian telling me what to do.

“Are you blackmailing me?”

His smile was all lazy charm and amusement. “Not blackmailing. Persuading.”

Now he liked euphemisms.

“Same thing in your world.”

“You’re learning.” Christian tapped the face of his watch. “Forty-four minutes.”

Our eyes clashed in a battle of defiance versus indifference.

I had no desire to leave my apartment. I could live here for the rest of my life and be happy. It was safe, quiet, and fully equipped with movies, ice cream, and internet. What more could a girl want?

Human company. Sunshine. A life,a voice whispered.