Twisted Lies (Twisted 4)

My streakof successfully avoiding Christian ended that night when he came home so early the sun still hung low in the sky and spilled golden washes of light across the light gray floors.

I’d just finished a pre-interview with Julian, the lifestyle columnist for Washington Weekly. He was doing an in-depth profile on me and my Delamonte ambassadorship, and we’d spent the past half hour discussing topics and logistics.

I was sketching in the living room when the front door opened and every hair on my body prickled with awareness.

I didn’t have to see Christian to feel him. He consumed every room he walked into.

Don’t look, don’t look—

I looked.

Sure enough, there he was, striding across the room like a king to his throne.

Broad shoulders. Sharp cheekbones. Expensive suit.

“Slacking off?” I stood and tucked my sketching notebook beneath my arm. I didn’t like sitting around Christian. It made me feel at even more of a disadvantage than I already was. “It’s still business hours.”

They were the first words I’d spoken to him since New York, and I would be lying if I said they didn’t give me a heady rush.

His steps slowed until he came to a halt in front of me. “I figured you’d want to celebrate.”

Confusion pulled my brows together. “Celebrate what?”

“You hit a million followers, Stella.” Christian watched me, unsmiling, but his eyes glowed with a faint hint of amusement. “As of one hour ago.”

One million followers.

There was no way I’d hit that milestone already. When I checked last night, I’d only been at…nine hundred ninety-six thousand, give or take a few hundred.

Oh my God.

Considering how fast I’d been growing since I started “dating” Christian, four thousand new followers overnight was fully within the realm of possibility.

“If you don’t believe me, check for yourself.” It was like he’d read my mind.

I dragged my eyes away from Christian’s and took out my phone. A small tremble shook my hand as I tapped into my profile and zeroed in on the number at the top.

1M.

One million followers.

Oh. My. GOD.

The rush from seeing that number was so strong I grew dizzy.

I’d known it would happen eventually, but actually hitting that milestone was surreal.

A thrill sizzled down my spine.

I did it.

I did it!

A grin broke out, and it took all my willpower not to jump and scream like a twelve-year-old at their favorite pop singer’s concert.

One million had been the goal since I started my account. It wasn’t my only goal, but it’d been the big one. The golden ticket. The validation I was a success, that I hadn’t made a mistake pursuing the path I was pursuing and that people liked my content and liked me.

After years of creating content, and thousands of posts, I’d finally hit it.

I stared down at my profile, waiting for the skies to open up, angels to sing, and confetti to rain down around me in congratulations.

At the very least, I expected the Instagram gods to pop up and slap a gold star on my hand for achieving such a huge milestone.

Nothing.

The exhilaration of joining the million-follower club was still there, but I’d also expected…more.

Some sense of achievement that would validate all the hard work I’d put into my account and the feeling that I’d made it, whatever it was.

But other than an excited, emoji-filled text from Brady and an inbox bursting with DMs, I was the same person I’d been an hour ago, with the same worries and insecurities.

Something jagged and morose punctured my thrill until I slowly floated back down to earth.

Somehow, it felt worse to achieve something and still feel dissatisfied than to not achieve it at all.

I had a million followers, yet I’d never felt emptier.

I tucked my phone into my pocket and tried to hide my disappointment.

“I didn’t realize you were watching my follower count that closely,” I said.

Christian didn’t take the bait. Instead, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a distinctive red and gold box.

“For you,” he said. “A congratulatory gift.”

Curiosity and hesitation warred inside me.

Should I take it? I didn't feel right accepting a gift from him when we were little more than a business arrangement, but what could he have possibly gotten me? Considering the size and brand, it had to be jewelry.

In the end, curiosity won.

I took the box and slowly opened it, half expecting something to jump out at me, but my breath trapped in my throat when I saw what was nestled against the black velvet.

Holy hell.

It was a watch—the most gorgeous, extravagant watch I’d ever laid eyes on. Diamonds and emeralds formed delicate butterflies on the polished face, and smaller diamonds studded the platinum band.

“It’s a limited-edition piece that hasn’t hit the market yet,” Christian said as casually as if it were a plastic toy he’d picked up from the mall. “There are only five in the world. One of them now belongs to you.”

I ran my fingers over the jeweled face. The watch must be worth a fortune.

“How did you get it?” The question was a whisper in the dying sunlight.