lives. This is business.” I responded to Kage in a clipped tone. My stare burned the air between us. “Touch her for any reason other than to save her life, and you die.” I didn’t care how long Kage and I had been friends. No one touched her except me. His face twisted into a scowl.
“Give me more credit than that.” He hadn’t been happy when I’d pulled him away from the woman he’d brought home, but he showed up as I knew he would. I didn’t trust anyone else to look after Stella tonight, not even myself. “Text me updates every hour. I don’t care if it’s four in the goddamn morning. I want those check-ins.” That was as close to staying with her as I would allow myself. Kage sighed. “You got it.” I cast one last glance at Stella’s bedroom door. Every cell in my body screamed for me not to leave. I despised the idea that Kage was watching her instead of me. When he’d called her darlin’ and she’d smiled at him, I’d come close to losing my best employee at my own hands. In a rare moment of weakness, I’d used our fake dating arrangement to get closer to her, but a part of me had secretly hoped it would shatter the mystery and end my fixation with her. Instead, it was doing the opposite. The more time I spent with Stella, the more I wanted to be around her. To let her into places I’d never shown anyone. It was unacceptable. I brushed past Kage, took the elevator up to my penthouse, and went straight to the bar. The lights of D.C. glittered like a carpet of stars outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, but I couldn’t appreciate the sight. I was too wound up. If anything had happened to Stella… Ice spread through my veins. I filled my glass with a heavier than usual pour. Sat. And waited for the first text from Kage.
12
STELLA
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”—