“That’s not an answer.”
We arrived at his building, which was only a few blocks from Dante’s place.
“You know everything about me, and I know nothing about you,” I added. “How is that fair?”
“You know plenty about me.” Christian nodded at the doorman, who tipped his hat in greeting. “Where I live, where I work, how I take my coffee in the morning.”
“Everyone can find those things out with a simple Google search. I just want—”
“Drop it, Stella.” There was no guise of gentleness anymore, only the sharp slice of a blade shredding me into ribbons. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
My jaw tensed.
“Fine.” Despite my cool reply, frustration bubbled hot and unchecked inside my veins.
I met Christian last year. We’d lived together and pretended we were a couple for weeks, yet I didn’t know a single thing about him beyond the superficial.
Meanwhile, he knew things about me I’d never shared with anyone else. My history with my stalker. My anxiety. My dreams of starting a fashion line. The small but important bits of my life that I’d kept secret from even my closest friends.
I trusted him, but he clearly didn’t feel the same way about me.
Something more bitter welled beneath the frustration.
Hurt.
Christian was nothing if not a master at making people believe in things that didn’t exist.
It’s just for show. It’s not real.
We didn’t speak again until we arrived at his apartment, where I bid him a stiff good night and retreated to the guest room before he could respond.
I couldn’t sleep, so I lay there staring at the ceiling while the cool, dark silence peeled away my frustration to reveal the hurt underneath.
I was more attracted to Christian than I’d been to any man in years. Not only that, I was starting to like him. The way he comforted me after I found the note in my apartment, the way his smiles spilled butterflies in my stomach, and the unshakeable faith he’d shown in me during the photoshoot…they’d all eroded my resistance so slowly I didn’t realize how much of myself I’d bared until I felt the sting of his rejection.
It burned like acid on raw skin, and it was my fault. I never should’ve let my guard down.
For all my aversion to relationships, I was a romantic in my most secret of hearts, and I was terrified that, like everything else I’d kept hidden, Christian would unravel that part of me until it was impossible to put back together.
He was dangerous, not just to his enemies but to those close to him.
And the only way to save myself was to make sure I stayed as far away from him as possible.