Cool, calm, collected.
Cool, calm, collected.
“Okay,” I finally said. “I’ll tell them. But I have a few rules of my own.”
If this new living arrangement was going to work, I needed some say in it. Christian was the security expert, but this was my life.
“Of course you do.” Dryness filled Christian’s voice. No doubt he remembered my insistence on including my own set of rules in our fake dating arrangement.
“This is your house, and I’ll respect your rules. But I also ask that you respect my privacy. That means no coming into my room without permission, even when—especially when—I’m not there. Don’t go through my belongings even if they’re in a common space. Don’t tell me where I can go or who I can see unless it’s a direct threat to my safety. And…” My teeth sank into my bottom lip as I contemplated my last request.
“And?” He raised a dark brow.
My nails dug deeper into my skin. “No bringing women home. I don’t care if you sleep with them, but they can’t be here while I’m here. It’s not…it won’t look right.”
Exclusivity was implied but not explicitly stated in our contract. I had no issue maintaining celibacy, but I doubted I could say the same for someone like Christian. He probably had women flinging themselves at him every day, regardless of his relationship status.
A strange twist wrung my heart and left it out to dry when I pictured him with another woman.
I told myself it had everything to do with keeping up appearances and nothing to do with…anything else.
Christian’s amusement disappeared beneath pools of amber ice. “I don’t cheat, Stella.”
“It’s not cheating when we’re not really dating.”
What was I saying? It wasn’t like I wanted him to sleep with other women. It was too risky, and…
My stomach cramped. I must’ve inhaled my croissant too fast.
Tick. Tick. Tick. I watched the muscle jump in his jaw with nervous fascination. Christian’s anger was a rolling wave, slow and insidious as it swallowed everything in its wake. But when he spoke again, his tone was as smooth and placid as a summer lake.
“Noted.”
Noted? That was the vaguest answer he could’ve given, but I was too apprehensive to ask for clarification.
We didn’t speak again for the rest of the meal.
That afternoon, while Christian worked in his home office and the movers hauled the rest of my belongings up from my apartment, I explored the eight thousand square feet of bachelor luxury that would be my home for God knew how long.
I came here every week to take care of his plants, but I left immediately after. I never took the time to study my surroundings.
Christian’s penthouse took up the entire eleventh floor of the Mirage, which was as high as buildings got in D.C. due to the city’s height limit.
Light gray marble floors, black leather furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a three-hundred-sixty-degree view of the city. The house reflected the man: sleek, exquisitely decorated, and beautiful in a way that was cold but impersonal.
He had the lavish touches one would expect from someone of his wealth, such as a private rooftop pool and a state-of-the-art gym down the hall from the den, but my favorite room was the library.
Piles of cushions turned the deep windowsills into sunny reading nooks while modern orange couches added an unexpected pop of color. Hundreds of books lined the customized black shelves, and I could tell by their worn spines that Christian actually read them instead of using them as props.
That was where I chose to bite the bullet and call my friends. I’d been putting it off all day, but I couldn’t stall much longer.
I called Ava first. Bridget lived in Eldorra with plenty of protection, and Jules already knew about the stalker, so it wouldn’t take long to update her.
“Hey!” Despite my less-than-ideal circumstances, Ava’s bright voice made me smile. “What’s up?”
A lot. “Not much. Are you home?” I wanted to make sure she wasn’t in transit when I dropped the bombshell.
“Yep, just got back.” I heard the closing of a door and a faint masculine voice in the background. I assumed it was her fiancé Alex.
I felt better knowing Ava had Alex by her side.
Alex Volkov was a force of his own, and while he made me a bit uneasy—I was almost certain he harbored psychopathic tendencies—he would put his life on the line to protect Ava.
“Great.” I twisted the bottom of my shirt. I should’ve scripted how I would break the news to her, but it was too late now. “How was work?”
“Fun, but beyond busy. We have our annual Best Of feature coming up, and…”
I half listened as she told me about her latest photography assignment, her upcoming wedding, and my Delamonte deal.
I needed to discuss the contract with Brady, but with everything that’d happened over the past twenty-four hours, it’d completely slipped my mind.
Closing the Delamonte deal had consumed me for months. Now that I finally had it, it was barely a blip on my radar.
The universe had a messed-up sense of timing.
“What else is going on besides Delamonte? How are things with Christian?” Ava asked. “You haven’t posted about him since the art gallery photo. That was super cute, by the way.”
There it was. The opening I’d been looking for.
My phone slipped against my palm as I forced my next words past the lump in my throat.
“About that. I, uh…” I coughed. “I moved in with him yesterday.’
There was a beat of silence before a disbelieving “What?” boomed over the line.
I winced and held my phone away from my ear. For someone so small, Ava had a powerful voice.
“You moved in with him? I thought you were…” She dropped her voice to a whisper. Alex must be nearby. “Only fake dating. Why are you suddenly living with him?”
“That’s the other thing.” My chest expanded with a deep, fortifying breath. “I…”