STELLA
I stayedat Greenfield for another hour, talking and doing puzzles with Maura. We’d migrated to the community room after I got my emotions under control, and we’d spent the rest of our time together assembling a five-hundred-piece mountain landscape.
I would’ve stayed longer, but I needed to get ready for the fundraiser. I was already cutting it close; when I got home, I had just under two hours before Christian was supposed to pick me up.
A wave of nerves crashed against my insides and drowned out the lingering melancholy from my visit with Maura.
Tonight would be my first time spending an entire evening with Christian. The Delamonte dinner didn’t count since we hadn’t spoken much during the dinner itself.
I turned on the shower and stepped beneath the spray of hot water, trying not to panic too much at what lay ahead of me.
Christian Harper was just a man.
Not a king, even if he was richer than one, and not a god, even if he looked like one.
I had nothing to be nervous about.
Since I was on a time crunch, I washed my hair, showered, shaved, and exfoliated with record speed instead of lingering in the shower like I wanted.
But despite my rush, I was still doing my makeup in my bathrobe when the doorbell rang.
Christian wasn’t supposed to show up for another half hour. Unless…
My heart rate picked up when the unsettling chill I’d experienced on the train drifted through my mind.
Stop it. It is not him.
I didn’t know why I was worrying so much when he’d been radio silent for two years, but the last thing I needed was to manifest my stalker back into my life by focusing too much energy on him.
I jumped when the doorbell rang again.
Had it always been so loud?
I capped my mascara and hastened to the living room even as my pulse beat triple time.
It’s not him. It’s not him.
I slowed to a stop at the front door and peeked through the peephole with my heart in my throat.
A second later, relief cooled my lungs, and I opened the door.
Christian stood in the hall, looking even more devastating than usual in a black tuxedo. With his perfectly wavy hair and clean-shaven face, he could’ve passed for a movie star on his way to the Oscars.
A tingle of awareness spread across my skin, mixed with curiosity at the white box in his hands. Medium-sized and flat, tied with a silky gold bow that obscured the logo.
I pulled my eyes away from the box and crossed my arms.
Do not be distracted by the shiny object.
“You’re early.” Getting ready was my favorite part of an event. Sometimes, I liked it better than the event itself.
I didn’t appreciate being rushed, even if it was my fault for not leaving Greenfield earlier. Still, I thought I had half an hour left to myself.
“You’re not dressed.” Christian’s gaze coasted from my half-done face to my bare, red-painted toes. Something inscrutable passed through his eyes for a split second before it disappeared.
“Because you’re early.”
He ignored the pointed reminder. “May I come in?”
I was tempted to say no and tell him to return at our arranged pickup time, but since he technically owned the apartment, I opened the door wider and stepped aside.
The air shifted the minute Christian entered. It grew heavier, more languid, like the first sultry bloom of summer after a season of spring rains.
The heat seeped through the thick terrycloth of my robe and curled low in my stomach as his eyes swept across the room, taking in the bowl of crystals by the front door, the bamboo plant on the windowsill, and the cozy, aesthetic corner I’d set up for lifestyle shoots.
He paused at the fuzzy purple unicorn propped against my couch pillows.
Amusement filled his eyes. “Cute.”
“Cute?” I tried not to sound too insulted. “Mr. Unicorn isn’t cute. He’s beautiful.”
At least, he had been during his heyday. Now, one of his eyes was crooked, half his hair had fallen out, and stuffing leaked from a tiny rip in his stomach, but he would always be beautiful to me.
I didn’t care if Mr. Unicorn was a shadow of his former glorious self; he’d been my companion since I was seven, and I would hold on to him until he disintegrated into dust.
“My apologies,” Christian said dryly. “I didn’t mean to insult the beautiful Mr. Unicorn. Good job on the original name, by the way.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “I was seven. What elsewas I supposed to name it? Mr. Lisa Frank in the Wild?”
A low laugh caressed my skin like velvet. “Now that would be quite a name, but we can discuss alternatives for your pet unicorn later.” He held out the white box. “This is for you.”
I ignored the subtle pet unicorn dig and eyed the box with equal parts anticipation and wariness. “What is it?”
“Your dress for tonight.”
My heart skipped a beat when I unraveled the bow and saw the name scrawled in gold across the top. It was one of the top couture houses in the world.
I didn’t want to accept more from him than I already had, but I couldn’t resist opening the box. A little peek never hurt any…
Oh my God.
My resistance crumbled the second I saw the dress nestled against a bed of delicate white tissue paper.
I was no stranger to gorgeous clothing. I’d attended dozens of fashion shows and received some truly amazing items from designers, but this…
This dress might be the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen.