Twisted Lies: A Fake Dating Romance
Twisted Lies: Chapter 17

I woke to sunshine and the faint scent of leather and spice.

That was the first sign something was amiss since I exclusively used lavender scents in my bedroom.

The second sign was the color of the sheets. Slate gray silk, luxurious in its simplicity and rumpled with sleep, but a far cry from the soft cream ones I’d bought two years ago.

The fog of sleep lingered as I stared at the dent in the pillow next to mine and tried to piece together what happened last night.

I was clearly in a man’s room. The dark colors and the watch and cufflinks on the nightstand were a dead giveaway.

Had I gone out drinking and hooked up with someone at their place? Unlikely.

Had I stayed the night at Ava’s place? But her guest rooms didn’t look like this, and—

“You’re awake.”

A scream clawed up my throat at the unexpected voice behind me.

I whipped around, my heart thundering with panic until the speaker stepping out of the bathroom came into focus.

Dark hair. Whiskey eyes. Chiseled face.

Christian.

This was his room. Why was I in—

Yesterday’s memories slammed into me so fast and hard they knocked the breath from my lungs.

The note in my bedroom, calling Christian, moving into his place, him bathing me…

Oh God.

Dread and mortification curdled in my stomach. I would’ve thrown up had I eaten anything more than a croissant yesterday.

“You didn’t want to be alone, so I let you stay in my room for the night.” Christian straightened his sleeve. It was eight in the morning, but he was already dressed in one of his signature suits and loafers. His hair was perfectly styled, his face sharp and clean-shaven. “That was a one-time exception, given what happened, but you’ll be sleeping in the guest room from now on. It’s there for a reason.”

I frowned, trying to reconcile the cold man in front of me with the one who’d carried me to his room and taken care of me yesterday.

A flush sluiced down my skin when I remembered the heat of his body behind me and the graze of his touch against my bare skin.

It hadn’t been sexual, and I’d been too in shock to react much at the time, but the memory ignited a soft burn that warmed me from the inside out.

Christian’s eyes darkened like he could see straight into my mind. “Breakfast will be served in half an hour. I’ll see you then.”

He walked out before I could respond.

I guess he wasn’t a morning person.

A headache throbbed behind my temple as I tried to make sense of the past twenty-four hours.

Yesterday morning, I woke up in my own bed feeling fairly optimistic about the stalker situation.

Now, I was living in Christian Harper’s house because the stalker broke into mine.

Whoever they were, they knew where I lived and could break into one of the most secure buildings in the city.

Fear slowed the beats of my heart.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

Maybe they could break into the Mirage, but they couldn’t break into Christian’s penthouse. Right?

I reached for my necklace, only to realize I wasn’t wearing one.

Christian had brought only the essentials last night, which meant my crystals were sitting downstairs in my room.

The bite of fear intensified at the thought of returning to my old apartment. I’d loved that apartment, but I couldn’t imagine going back after the break-in shattered its sanctity.

I hated my stalker for destroying that peace almost as much as I hated him for the notes.

After all these years, I still couldn’t understand why he’d targeted me. Was it my social media presence? My looks? Or was I just unlucky enough to catch the attention of some creep who had too much time on his hands?

I forced a deep inhale into my lungs.

Everything’s fine. You’ll be fine.

It was broad daylight, and Christian was right outside. As moody as he was, he wouldn’t let anything happen to me.

I didn’t know why, but I felt the conviction of that in my gut.

You’ll be fine.

I repeated the reassurance in my head as I went to the guest room—a.k.a. my new room for the foreseeable future—and changed out of my bathrobe into day-appropriate loungewear.

When I entered the dining room, Christian was already seated at the head of the table with a cup of coffee, a pen, and that morning’s newspaper crossword.

The table itself groaned beneath the weight of a full breakfast spread. Glass pitchers of coffee, juice, water, and tea gleamed next to platters of every type of breakfast item imaginable: eggs prepared six different ways, crispy bacon, fluffy lemon ricotta pancakes and Belgian waffles and French toast.

Croissants, muffins, and scones filled two large woven baskets, while a make-it-yourself smoothie bowl section boasted every fruit and topping I could think of.

It was a buffet for twenty, not two.

“Are you hosting a brunch party?” I asked, uncertain why anyone needed this much food for themselves.

“No, but Nina went all out, so you may as well enjoy it.”

Before I could ask who Nina was, a round-faced woman with a dark bun and cheerful smile entered the room.

“I’m Nina.” She gave Christian a disapproving glance before she handed me a glass of something green and creamy. “Wheatgrass smoothie, right?”

I relaxed beneath the warmth of her friendliness. “Yes, thank you. How did you know?”

This must be Christian’s housekeeper slash part-time chef. I’d never met her, though I knew she was the only person who had the keys to his house besides me.

“Mr. Harper told me it was your favorite.” She winked at me while Christian glared at her.

“That’ll be all for now. Thank you.” His polite dismissal only half masked the razor’s edge running beneath his voice.

Nina suppressed what looked like a laugh before she left.

“I see caffeine hasn’t improved your mood.” I loaded a plate with food and sat next to him. “I’d hoped it would bring Dr. Jekyll back. Mr. Hyde isn’t doing it for me.”

He’d always been on the aloof side, but I felt the distance between us vividly this morning.

“Funny. I see a night of sleep has improved your mood.” Christian folded the crossword and set it aside before he added, “How are you feeling?”

“Hungry. I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning,” I admitted.

I knew that wasn’t what he was really asking, but I didn’t want to talk about the note right now. I just wanted to eat and pretend everything was normal.

I tore off a piece of my croissant and popped it in my mouth. A sigh of pleasure rose in my throat.

Croissants were a gift of heaven. I was sure of it.

“Good. I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for, so I had Nina make a bit of everything,” he said, his tone gruff.

Warmth flickered to life in my chest.

I gave him a shy smile, touched by the gesture even though he wasn’t the one who’d cooked the food.

A faint hint of pink colored his cheekbones.

Was he…blushing?

Before I could make sense of the staggering sight, the pink disappeared, and Christian’s face turned to granite again.

“Since you’re here, we should go over the rules.”

My brow furrowed. “Okay…”

“You’re here because you’re in danger, and since you’re now fully under my protection, we need to take appropriate steps to secure your safety,” he said crisply. “Staying here until we catch the person who’s been leaving you those notes is the first step. My team will move the rest of your belongings in today. While you’re here, you will sleep in the guest room and adhere to the house rules. No bringing friends or men over…” His voice iced at the word men. “And no touching unrecognizable devices. There’s a fifty-fifty chance they could kill you. Other than that, consider this your home for the foreseeable future.”

Fifty-fifty chance they could kill me? What kind of devices did he own?

“Oh.” I forced a bright smile. “Well, who can resist a welcome like that? You really know how to make a girl feel all warm and fuzzy.”

Christian ignored my sarcasm. “It’s good that you’re not posting where you are in real time, but I want you to wait twenty-four hours to post instead of your usual three to four. Vary your schedule and keep it unpredictable, including the routes you take home. You will also have a bodyguard. Brock will look after you when you’re not with me. He’ll be unobtrusive; you won’t even know he’s there unless you need help. Finally…”

“Oh, good. I was afraid that was it. Go on.”

“You have to tell your friends the truth.” Christian fixed me with a hard stare. “If they don’t know you’re in danger, they can inadvertently put you in danger or be in danger themselves. Ignorance isn’t always bliss.”

My smile faded. A protest worked its way to the tip of my tongue before I squashed it.

Christian was right.

As much as I hated making my friends worry and having a bodyguard watching every move I made—similar to a stalker, though with less nefarious intentions—I needed the protection.

Plus, I couldn’t have my friends thinking everything was okay when it wasn’t. What if the stalker targeted them when he couldn’t get to me? I would never forgive myself if something happened to them because I didn’t give them proper warning.

My nails dug angry half-moons into my knees.

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…”

I have a stalker.

The words sat on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t get them out.

I’d been keeping my secret for so long, the idea of sharing it with my friends made my heart kick like a trapped animal against its cage.

Christian and Jules knew the truth, but only out of necessity—Christian because he found me the night I discovered the note, Jules because we’d lived together when the stalker made his first appearance. And she didn’t know the stalker was back.

“I, um…” Just say it. I stood and paced the room, too restless to sit. “I moved in because I…I have a stalker. And he broke into my apartment yesterday.”

The words finally spilled out and landed on the floor with a heavy thud. The force of it reverberated through my bones, but the ensuing silence was so thick I could taste it over the line.

“What?” Ava breathed. Softer this time, and dizzy with shock.

I stopped next to the potted fern. The earthy smells of soil and greenery worked their way into my lungs, grounding me and giving me the fortitude to explain the situation. I started with the notes from two years ago and ended with my discovery yesterday.

The more I talked, the easier it was, though a whisper of unease lingered in my stomach. I hated worrying my friends.

“So that’s why I moved in with Christian,” I finished. “It’s the safest thing to do while the stalker is still on the loose.”

I rubbed an absentminded thumb over my necklace—amethyst, for calming energies and stress relief. I’d hunted it down immediately after the movers brought my stuff up.

I needed all the stress relief I could get.

“Yes, but…” Ava blew out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I still can’t get over the part where this started three years ago, and you didn’t tell me. This isn’t a secret boyfriend or…or a side gig moonlighting as a dancer, Stella. You’re my best friend, and your life was in danger.” She didn’t sound angry; she sounded hurt, which was even worse. “I would’ve helped you.”

“There was nothing you could’ve done. If anything had happened to you because of me, I never would’ve forgiven myself.”

Another long pause. “Do Jules and Bridget know?”

My teeth sank into my bottom lip. “Jules knows about the first batch of letters since we were living together at the time. Bridget has no clue. The notes stopped coming after a few months,” I added. “So it wasn’t an issue for too long.”

Until they restarted.

“God,” Ava breathed. “This is bananas.”

“Not more bananas than getting kidnapped by your boyfriend’s psycho uncle, right?” I hid my nerves with a shaky laugh.

Despite her sunny demeanor, Ava had lived through more traumatic events than I have.

“Right. They could make soap operas out of our lives,” she said dryly. “Listen, just stay with me until you catch this guy. Alex won’t mind, and he’ll sort things out. Actually, let me get him.” She raised her voice. “Alex, can you come over here? I have—”

“No! Don’t tell him.” Involving Alex in something like this was a bad idea. He was as liable to murder someone as he was to help them. “I’ve got this under control. Besides, Christian is the security expert, and you have enough on your plate with the wedding.”

“Screw the wedding—crap. Hold on.” Ava must’ve covered the speaker because her words became muffled. “No, honey, of course I still want to get married! I was talking to Stella about the, um, wedding planner…no, don’t fire her. She’s great. I was just frustrated in the moment. Bridal nerves, you know. I’m fine now. Yes, I promise…why did I call for you? Uh, I’m craving those new raspberry lemon cookies from Crumble & Bake. Can you please run down and get some for me? Thank you! Love you.”

Ava returned, sounding breathless. “Sorry about that. Alex has been so on edge about the wedding. He made our florist cry the other day.” She sighed. “We’re working on his interpersonal skills.”

Usually, brides were the ones who obsessed over every detail, but Alex was type A to a fault.

“Anyway.” Ava turned serious again. “Are you sure you don’t need help? I know Christian probably has it handled, but Alex knows everyone.”

“Yes, I’m sure. There’s no need to drag more people into my mess than necessary.”

The situation had already ballooned out of control, with the move and a bodyguard and God knew what else. The last thing I wanted was for it to turn into even more of a circus.

“You’re not dragging us anywhere. We want to be there. You’re our friend, Stella,” Ava said gently. “If you’re in danger, we want to help. That’s what friends do. That’s what you would do for us.”

A knot of emotion formed in my throat. Natalia and I were sisters by blood, but Ava, Jules, and Bridget were my family by choice.

We’d been there for each other through the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, and even if I’d shielded them from the worst in my life, just knowing they were there helped me make it through the day.

Sometimes, all we needed was the knowledge someone somewhere cared about us.

“I know. If I need anything, I’ll tell you. I promise.”

“Okay.” Despite her palpable reluctance, Ava didn’t press the issue. “Stay safe. And I’m not just talking about the creep sending you notes.”

I’m also talking about Christian.

She didn’t say it, but I heard her loud and clear.

“I will.” I took another deep breath. “I have to go, but I love you.”

I could tell Ava wanted to say more, but she held back. “Love you too.”

I hung up.

One down, two more to go.

I called Jules next. She was going to lose her shit, but she already knew about the stalker, so maybe she’ll lose less of her shit?

Oh, who was I kidding? I would be lucky if she didn’t show up at my door wielding a machete and a plan to scour every neighborhood in D.C. until we found them.

“Hey, J,” I said when she picked up. “Are you home? You’re not near any sharp objects, are you? Good, because I have something to tell you…”