A week after I moved into his house, I discovered
Christianโs dirty little secret.
In a dark corner of his den, tucked between DVDs ofย Reservoir Dogsย andย The Godfather,ย he owned a collectorโs edition ofย Spice World.
That was right. Christian Harper, the CEO of Harper Security and possibly the most terrifying man Iโd ever met, owned a special edition of a movie featuring a nineties girl band that, coincidentally, was one of my favorites for no reason other than its pure campiness.
I didnโt know people still owned DVDs, but I wasnโt giving up the opportunity to rewatch one of my childhood obsessions on his state-of-the-art flatscreen.
Based on what Iโd observed of his schedule, Christian wouldnโt be home for another two hours, so I allowed myself to let loose.
I sang and danced along to the movie, only stopping to take a bite of the ice cream sitting on the coffee table.
I wasnโt the greatest singerย orย dancer, so I probably looked ridiculous, but I was too happy to care.
Itโd been a good day.
Iโd officially signed the contract with Delamonte, and our first shoot was scheduled for next week in New York. It
was a small shoot, hence the short notice, but I was excited to start the partnership and visit the city again.
Iโd also finished another set of sketches and started filling out the business plan template Christian sent me. It wasnโt as boring as Iโd feared, though some parts, like the financial analysis and production plan, gave me a headache.
Neither of us mentioned our almost/sort of kiss since it happened. Weโd kept our conversations strictly to small talk, work, and my fashion line, which was just fine with me.
In fact, things had beenย soย normal between us I
questioned whether the โkissโ really happened. Maybe itโd been a figment of my imagination, born of the same craziness thatโd compelled me to show him my sketches.
Iโd never shown them to anyone before.
Meanwhile, fears of my stalker had receded, locked behind the bulletproof glass and steel-reinforced walls of Christianโs penthouse. If I thought too much about it, the anxiety came rushing back, but I was busy enough that I didnโtย haveย to think about it. I could lose myself in my bubble of self-delusion forโฆwell, not forever, but for a while.
So, like I said, itโd been a good day.
I spun, an ice cream spoon in my mouth and feet bare against the cool marble floors.
I was so caught up in my song and dance I didnโt notice anyone had entered until I glimpsed a dark figure on my next spin.
A surprised scream exploded into the air before my brain processed the lean, muscled frame and tailored suit.
The spoon clattered from my mouth to the floor and dripped melted dulce de leche ice cream down the front of my shirt.
โNot the usual greeting I receive from women, but an improvement to your prior yodeling.โ Despite the wry
insult, amusement softened the finely chiseled lines of Christianโs face.
His eyes, however, were anything but soft. They were blades swathed with black silk, their edges so cold they burned hot against my skin.
They traced the lines of my throat down my torso to my bare legs and feet before sliding back up to my face.
Slow and leisurely, like a cat toying with a mouse.
All the while I held still, afraid any movement would slice me open and bare my wild, beating heart to the electric air.
I was suddenly hyperaware of how short my shorts were, how much skin my cropped sweatshirt bared, and how ridiculous I must look with gel eye patches on my face and leave-in conditioner slicked in my hair, to say nothing of the fact that Iโd been dancing and belting along to freaking Spice Girls in his living room.
Mortification chased the flames left behind by his scrutiny, but I clung to the tattered edges of my dignity with bloodied fingertips.
โI wasnโtย yodeling.ย I was exercising my vocal cords.โ I bent and retrieved the sticky spoon from the floor as gracefully as I could. โI also thought I was alone. You never come home this early.โ
โI didnโt realize you paid that close attention to my schedule.โ The velvety drawl brushed against my skin like the most sensual of caresses.
Christian peeled away from the shadows and walked toward me. He wore head-to-toe designer business wear, but those bright amber eyes and the predatory grace with which he moved reminded me of a panther lazily stalking its prey. A beast drawing out the inevitable because heโd grown tired of the ease with which he captured what he wanted.
โI donโt, but weโve lived together for a week. I donโt have to study your comings and goings to know your
schedule.โ
Christian was an early riser. So was I, but by the time I went up to his rooftop for sunrise yoga every morning, I already heard his shower running and smelled coffee brewing in the kitchen.
He left at seven-thirty on the dot and returned twelve hours later, looking as polished as when heโd stepped out the door.
It was unnatural.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
My pulse banged against my wrist and chest and in my ears when he stopped in front of me.
Spice and leather. Crisp black lines and silver cu๏ฌinks. Intimidating in their perfection but comforting in their familiarity.
โDo you know why I came home early today?โ Christian lifted his hand, and for an exhilarating, terrifying second, I expected him to cup my breast.
Instead, he rubbed his thumb over the spot of ice cream above my chest.
The light touch scorched its way through my veins and pooled between my legs.
โNo.โ I barely heard myself over the storm brewing in the air.
The sounds from the movie had long faded, replaced by the frantic drum of my heart.
โWe have an appointment.โ Amusement filled his eyes at my frown. โOur first business consultation.โ
I blinked, my brain too hazy to process his words in real time.
Business consultationโฆ
Iโll schedule a weekly meeting and add it to your calendar. Come prepared.
โOh.ย Oh.โย My business plan. The one Iโd only half filled out.
Reality washed the film of pheromones off my vision and returned my breaths to normal.
โI havenโt completed it yet,โ I admitted. โItโs only half done.โ
Thinking through what I wanted for my business took longer than writing it down.
I braced myself for a lecture or at least a sigh of disappointment, but all Christian said was, โLet me see what you have so far.โ
I retrieved the papers from the coffee table and handed them to him.
The phantom of his touch lingered on my skin, but the tension from earlier dissolved into nerves as I waited for his feedback.
After an interminable silence, he handed the document back to me. โGood.โ
โGood?โ
Thatโs it?
โYes, good. The executive summary is clear and succinct, and youโve clearly done your market research. It could use a few tweaks, but weโll do that after the full draft is complete.โ His lips curved. โI didnโt expect you to put together a full plan in one week, Stella, especially since you havenโt done one before.โ
Relief loosened the knot in my chest. โYou couldโve told me that earlier. You nearly gave me a heart attack!โ
I was the student whoโdย alwaysย completed her homework on time. The thought of missing an assignment made my skin crawl.
Disappointment. Failure.
I shook off the insidious voices before they could dig their claws into me, but their echoes remained, dampening my enthusiasm.
โIf I told you, would you have gotten as much done?โ I sighed at his logic. โProbably not.โ
โExactly.โ Christianโs gaze slid to the TV. โThough Iโm sorry I interrupted your thrilling Spice Girls performance. You truly missed your calling as a girl band member.โ
I narrowed my eyes, well aware that my middle school music teacher had once compared my vocal skills to that of a dying cat.
She hadnโt been a very nice teacher.
โMy performance was for me, not you. You were intruding.โ I removed my under-eye patches as casually as possible. Between the singing, dancing, and ice cream, Iโd embarrassed myself enough without having one of the patches slide off on its own.
โItโs my house.โ
โItโs still polite to announce your presence.โ
โI wouldโve, but I was too fascinated by the sight of you stumbling around my living room like a drunken baby elephant.โ Laughter rumbled from his chest at my indignant gasp. I wasnโt the best dancer, but I was a better dancer than aย drunken elephant.ย Probably. Maybe. โIn a charming way, of course.โ
My dignity would never recover from this.
โOf course. That makes me feel so much better.โ I lifted my chin and switched subjects before I exploded from sheer mortification. โSpeaking of performances, I have my first Delamonte photoshoot next week. In New York.โ Christianโs laughter died down, though traces of amusement lingered around his mouth. โDates?โ
I told him.
โNoted. Weโll take my jet.โ
I stared at him, sure Iโd heard wrong. โYouโre coming with me?โ
โThe wordย weย does imply that, yes.โ
In public, he was so polite and friendly, but in private, he could be a sarcastic ass.
โDonโt you have a business to run?โ He must have more important things on his plate than accompanying his fake
girlfriend to a photoshoot.
โIf my business canโt survive two days without me, then I havenโt done my job as CEO. Not to mention, your not so friendly secret admirer is still on the loose. Chances are slim heโll follow you to New York, but we donโt want to risk it.โ
โBrock can accompany me. I like him. Heโs nice.โ Granted, Iโd met him once and never saw him again, but
I felt his warm, reassuring presence whenever I left the house. Having a bodyguard wasnโt as bad as Iโd imagined.
Plus, I wasnโt tempted to have s*x with him, which was a big plus.
Christianโs expression didnโt shift, but the temperature suddenly plunged twenty degrees.
โBrock will not be accompanying you. I will.โ His words contained so much frost I couldโve used them to carve an ice sculpture. โHis job is to stay out of sight and keep you safe. Nothing else. Has he been doing his job, Stella?โ
I sensed it was a trick question. โYes?โ I ventured.
I didnโt know what raised Christianโs hackles, but I didnโt want to get Brock fired.
โGood.โ
I was beginning to hate that word.
I crossed my arms, both to hide how unnerved I was and to shield myself from the arctic waves of Christianโs displeasure.
โBad day at work?โ I asked. โOr is morphing into a mercurial beast part of your nighttime routine?โ
His only response was the press of his gaze on my skin.
Iโd been joking, but now that I looked more closely, I observed tiny signs of stress. Tension tautened the blade of his jaw, and a small furrow creased his brow. His body hummed with the dark, restless buzz of frustration.
โBad day at work?โ I repeated, softer this time.
I expected Christian to brush off my concern. To my surprise, he answered frankly. โDifficult client.โ
โI imagine you deal with a lot of those.โ
Harper Securityโs client list was a whoโs who of CEOs, celebrities, and royalty. That was a ton of ego for one company to handle.
โNot as much as youโd expect.โ He slid out of his jacket and draped it over the back of the couch. His shirt stretched taut over his broad shoulders, and his muscles flexed with every movement.
Stop. Now isย notย the time to ogle.
โIf someone insists on being a pain, we show them the door, and theyโre never allowed back in. I run a security company, not a daycare. I donโt have time to babysit inflated egos. That being saidโฆโ A wry note crept into his tone. โSome egos are attached to useful contacts. This client is pissed because I signed a contract to provide services to their competitor. Heโs threatening to pull his account if I donโt dump the competitor.โ
Grown men were truly pettier than high schoolers. โI assume heโs a big client?โ
โOne of my biggest.โ
โYou donโt want to lose the account, but you also donโt want to tarnish your reputation or set a bad precedent by cutting the other loose,โ I surmised. I chewed my lip, thinking it over. โI mean, itโs a pride issue. He doesnโt want his competitor to have what he has, so why donโt you offer him something extra? Upgrade him to a VVIP package and make it clear his competitor doesnโt have the same level of access.โ
VIP was the standard for his clients, but VVIP was the next level.
โI donโt have a VVIP package.โ
โNow you do. At least make himย thinkย you do,โ I amended. โThrow in some extra security features, take him out for drinks. Tell him to keep the package quiet because
itโs available only to a very select few. Kind of like a secret club. Itโll soothe his ego, and heโll be thrilled because he has something over his competitor. People like that just want to feel like theyโre better than someone.โ
It was a lesson Iโd learned after years of working in the fashion world.
Christian examined me with a faint smile. โPerhaps you have more business acumen than you give yourself credit for.โ His low murmur wrapped around my senses like a lush velvet blanket.
โMore empathy than business acumen,โ I said, embarrassed. โIโm still terrible at negotiations and accounting.โ
Learn how to accept compliments, babe. โThank youโ is
a perfectly adequate response.
Julesโs voice echoed in my head.
I was trying, but some compliments were easier to accept than others.
โAnyway, try it and see how it goes.โ I cleared my throat. โIn the meantime, you need to destress. Do you meditate?โ
He stared at me.
โItโll help you sleep better.โ Silence.
Okay, then. I guess that was aย no.
โHow about yoga?โ I tried. โWe can do it together. Iโll coach you through it.โ
Christiaan looked like he would rather drown in a vat of acid. โI appreciate the offer, but Iโll stick with a hot shower and sleep,โ he said dryly.
โShower and sleep arenโt enough.โ Not with how deep the frown lines were carved into his brow. Businessmen were all the same, forever chasing the next big deal with no regard for their health until it was too late.
I snapped my fingers. โOkay, I have an idea. Sit on the couch.โ
โIโm not meditating.โ
โYou already said that.โ Not in so many words, but his silence spoke volumes. โItโs not meditation. Just sit. Please?โ
Suspicion lurked in his eyes, but he complied.
My heart hammered hard enough against my ribcage to bruise as I came up behind him and rested my hands on his shoulders.
His muscles immediately bunched.
โWhat,โ he said, his low voice twined with so much danger I tasted it in my throat, โare you doing?โ
โGiving you a massage.โ I forced my stampeding nerves behind a veneer of calm.ย This is to help him relax. Thatโs it.ย โDonโt tell me youโre opposed to those, too.โ
His jaw tightened.
Night had descended, draping the floor-to-ceiling window across from us in inky black. Our reflections were so sharp the window doubled as a mirror.
โYouโre giving me a massage.โ The inflection of his words was impossible to read.
โThatโs what I said. Now, relax.โ I kept my voice as low and soothing as possible as I smoothed my palms over his neck and shoulders. His muscles bunched further, which defeated the entire purpose of the exercise. โTheย otherย kind of relaxing.โ
I loved getting massages, but I enjoyed giving them almost as much. There was something so satisfying about feeling the tension melt beneath my hands and knowing that Iโd helped someone feel better, if only temporarily.
It took a while for Christian to relax, but he gradually sank into the couch and tipped his head back, eyes closed.
The air hummed with awareness and the mingled sounds of our soft, even breaths.
I tried to focus on my movements and not on the powerful masculine form draped insouciantly beneath me, like a panther at rest after a long hunt.
Christianโs muscles were sleek and sculpted, all sinuous lines and coiled strength.
Like everything else about him, his body was a lethal, perfectly honed machine.
My eyes drifted up to his face and the dark sweep of his lashes against bronzed cheeks.
Firm, sensual lips, chiseled cheekbones, a straight blade of a nose, and a jaw so perfectly cut Michelangelo mustโve sculpted it himself.
It should be illegal for anyone to possess a face like that.
A lock of thick, dark hair brushed his forehead. Unable to help myself, I smoothed it back and luxuriated in the soft strands as I gently massaged his scalp. Christianโs hair was the perfect lengthโshort enough for easy maintenance, long enough for a woman to run her hands through it whileโฆ
Stop. Focus.
I swallowed past the dryness in the throat and the renewed ache in my lower belly.
Below me, the rhythm of Christianโs breathing changed to something harsher, more primal.
I slid my palms down his neck and over his shoulderโ
A small gasp sliced through the silence when his hand closed over mine, halting its movements. The iron grip branded my skin with so much heat I felt it in my bones.
โEnough.โ
Rough restraint and whiskey glares.
Heโd opened his eyes, and I was already getting consumed by them when I latched onto my tiny, remaining shred of self-survival and dragged myself out.
I pulled my hand out from underneath his and stepped back, heart in my throat, pulse racing with pure adrenaline.
โYouโre right. That should be enough. I hope it helped.โ
Cool, calm, collected.ย โAnyway, IโIโll see you tomorrow.
Good night.โ
For the second time that week, I fled to my room and locked the door behind me. I closed my eyes and leaned against the cool wood until my heartbeats slowed to a normal pace.
What wasย wrongย with me? Iโd never gotten so worked up
over a guy before. I even visited a s*x therapist once in case my low libido was cause for concern, but sheโd reassured me it was normal. Not everyone experienced s*xual attraction all the time or in the same way.
Unless, apparently, they lived with Christian Harper. I couldnโt pinpoint what had changed.
Iโd always thought he was attractive, but my reactions to him hadnโt been this intense or frequent until he found me after the first note. Sure, the night of the gala had been intense, but I thought thatโd been a fluke.
Maybe my brain was confused and thought our fake relationship was real? Or maybe I was mistaking gratitude for something deeper.
Whatever the reason, I wished the strange feelings would go away.
I brushed my teeth and climbed into bed, but sleep remained elusive thanks to the persistent, throbbing ache in my core.
Finally, I couldnโt take it anymore.
I slipped my hand between my legs, and my mouth parted in a silent gasp at the first brush of my fingers over my clit.
I didnโt need s*xual release often, but that one touch ignited months of pent-up frustration until the only thing that mattered was chasing sweet, heady relief.
My back arched off the mattress as I played with my clit with one hand and my nipple with the other. I was hypersensitive after not touching myself for so long, and sparks of pleasure raced through my body, lighting every nerve ending on fire.
Small whimpers mingled with the slippery sounds of my fingers against my clit while a familiar erotic film unfolded in my mind.
Me tied up, the rough scratch of ropes abrading my skin while a faceless stranger had his way with me.
Hands collaring my throat, bites on my skin, and a hard, relentless rhythm that wrenched inhibited screams from my throat.
Dark fantasies I only indulged in beneath the cover of night.
Iโd never disclosed them to previous lovers because Iโd been too nervous to share them and because I didnโt trust them to carry out the scenarios the way I wanted.
Ironically, in my fantasies, it was never about the man. My phantom lover had remained faceless all these years, an amorphous figure who didnโt require an identity to provide me with what I wantedโthe safe loss of control and an off switch for the ceaseless worries plaguing my brain. Nothing but the sharp stings of pleasure and adjacent pain.
But as wetness soaked my fingers and the pressure built between my thighs, the faceless figure came into focus for the first time since my fantasies started.
Golden brown eyes. Lethally soft smile. A heated brush of lips against mine and a ruthless grip that dug into my skin with just enough pressure to make my head swim.
The knot of pressure exploded with such force I didnโt have time to scream before I tumbled over the edge, swept up in wave after wave of orgasmic bliss with nothing to hold on to except visions of whiskey, rough hands, and a man I shouldnโt want but couldnโt help crave.
