Black had always been my favorite color.
Silent. Deadly. Impenetrable.
I felt at home in it, like shadows merging with the inky wells of night.
Yet in the span of a second, she’d upended that as she had every other thing in my life.
Heat poured through my blood as Stella walked in front of me and slowly turned, taking in the lavish decor. The museum’s long-running elephant display served as a thirteen-foot-tall centerpiece while projections of marine life danced on the walls, giving the illusion that we were underwater. Black-clad servers circulated with champagne and hors d’oeuvres, and a stage sat at the far side of the room, waiting for the host to climb on and congratulate everyone on how much money they’d raised at the end of the night.
The seats for this event were eight thousand dollars a pop.
I’d spent more than that on her dress, and it’d been worth every cent.
“This is beautiful,” Stella breathed, her attention resting on something behind me.
Green eyes. Green dress. Symbolic of life and nature.
Green.
Apparently, it was my new favorite fucking color.
“Yes, it is.” I didn’t turn to see what she was so enraptured by, nor did I pay attention to the curious stares people sent our way.
I hadn’t been spotted with a woman on my arm in over a year. By tomorrow morning, the city would be abuzz about the date I’d brought, but I couldn’t care less.
From the moment Stella had stepped into her living room wearing that damn dress, every other thought had crumbled into dust.
A soft flame of resentment burned in my chest. I hated the hold she had on me, but still, I couldn’t stop looking at her.
A turn of my head in the car ride over.
A last-minute flight to a far-flung country to keep myself away.
Scattered weeks and months when I’d thrown myself into work to forget her.
No matter what I did, something always drew me back—the gentle lilt of her voice, the scent of fresh florals and greenery. A turquoise ring that burned a hole in my pocket long after I’d vowed to toss it in the trash.
It wasn’t love. But it was maddening.
Stella’s gaze slid over to meet mine. A soft exhale parted her lips at whatever she saw on my face, and the urge to push her against the wall, fist her hair, and coax her mouth open until I claimed it completely ignited in my chest.
Tension twisted between us like an invisible rope, so tangible I felt its abrasive scrape as it snaked around my chest.
The moment stretched a second into eternity before Stella averted her gaze.
Her knuckles turned white around her clutch, but her voice was calm and even when she spoke again.
“You never told me what the event is for.” She avoided my eyes as she looked around the room again. “Ocean conservation?”
The stranglehold around my chest had loosened, but the release left me oddly dissatisfied.
“Close. Baby turtles.”
My mouth tipped up when her head whipped around.
My answer eroded some of the earlier tension, and Stella’s grip on her purse visibly loosened.
“I didn’t figure you for a turtle lover, Mr. Harper. What’s next? Feeding ducks? Adopting puppies?”
Her playful questions coaxed a wider smile from me. “Don’t hold your breath. I watched a lot of Franklin growing up.”
Her face glowed with laughter. “Ah, that explains it. I was an Arthur girl myself.”
I filed that away for future reference. There were no unimportant details when it came to Stella.
“Aardvarks are underappreciated, but sadly, they’re not a pet cause for Richard Wyatt’s wife. No pun intended,” I added.
A knowing gleam entered her eyes. “I assume Richard Wyatt is important to your business. Potential client?”
I hid another smile at how quickly she pieced it together. “Yes. Big private equity guy, big money, looking for a new security team. His wife is his weakness.”
I’d lasered in on the Wyatts the minute we entered. They held court in the northeast corner of the room, surrounded by fawning admirers, including the human equivalent of a lump of coal.
Mike Kurtz, the CEO of Sentinel Security.
My good mood faded at the sight of him.
The bastard went after every account I did. There wasn’t a single original thought rattling beneath that overly gelled hair.
Kurtz looked up, and an oily smile spread across his face before he broke off from the group and strode toward me.
We were both in our early thirties, but I already spotted the touches of cosmetic surgery propping up his fading looks—a chin augmentation here, some Botox there.
Beside me, Stella eyed the new arrival with curiosity, which deepened my foul mood. Kurtz didn’t deserve an ounce of her attention.
“Christian! How nice to see you again.” He smoothed a hand over his tie, oozing as much sincerity as a commission-starved car salesman. “I’m so glad you’re not licking your wounds over the Deacon and Beatrix accounts. I hope you’re not too upset with me about poaching your clients.” His chuckle scraped against my skin like nails against chalkboard. “It’s nothing personal. Just business.”
Irritation flared. I’d lost two accounts to Sentinel in one week. Deacon and Beatrix were trivial compared to the VIPs topping my company’s client list, but the losses pissed me off nonetheless.
I didn’t like losing.
“Of course not,” I said easily. I’d be damned if I showed even a smidge of weakness in Kurtz’s presence. “I don’t blame them for testing other services, but quality always wins in the end. Speaking of which, how’s the system rebuild going? It’s awful what can happen when your systems are subpar.”
Kurtz’s face tightened. He was a bottom feeder, but he was smart enough to recognize I’d had a hand in causing the system failure that wiped millions off Sentinel’s market value last year.
He just couldn’t prove it.
“It’s going great,” he finally said. “But the strength of a company is measured by client retention, not by freak failures. I’m sure Richard Wyatt would agree.”
“I’m sure he would.”
He smiled.
I smiled.
A bullet hole in his forehead would be the perfect complement to his vanity. He would die young and unravaged by old age.
Forever thirty-three.
It’d be an act of mercy, delivered with the swiftness of one silenced gunshot.
40320 Eastshore Drive. Security code 708.
So easy.
One bullet in the middle of the night, one rival snuffed out forever.
Temptation licked at the edges of my consciousness before I doused it.
Sentinel and Harper Security were well-known competitors. If foul play befell Kurtz, I would be one of the first suspects, and I didn’t have time for the fucking paperwork that would bring.
“Speaking of quality…” Kurtz turned to Stella, who’d been watching our exchange with a bemused expression. “Who is your stunning date?”
She answered after several beats of hesitation. “I’m Stella.” She graced him with a tentative smile.
Something dark and volatile burned in the pit of my stomach.
“I’m Mike.” He oozed sleazy charm as he held out his hand.
She didn’t get a chance to shake it before I cut in between them to whisk two glasses of champagne off a passing server’s tray.
“I almost forgot to give my condolences,” I drawled. I handed one glass to Stella and twined my free hand with hers. “I heard about the…unfortunate incident with one of your clients. It’s a shame there aren’t more reliable bodyguards these days, but at least the client has most of his fingers left.”
Stella slid a glance in my direction.
She was the type of person who had a smile and kind words for everyone, who paid for her old nanny’s care at her own expense and would give someone the shirt off her back.
The vicious undercurrent of my conversation with Kurtz was probably as foreign to her as selfless charity was to me.
I could only imagine how she’d react if she discovered some of the things I’d done.
Not that she ever would.
There were some things she could never know.
The warmth from her palm radiated up my arm and eased some of the black, restless energy churning in my chest.
It felt wrong to touch her when I was this on edge, like my darkness would seep through my touch and devour her light.
I forced myself to dial back the hostility, if only for her sake. I didn’t want to taint our first “date”.
Still, I couldn’t resist a final dig at Kurtz.
“You might want to brush up on your employee training, though.” I took a languorous sip of my drink. “Sometimes, the greatest threat to a company isn’t external competition. It’s internal incompetence.”
Kurtz’s face flushed a satisfying shade of crimson. “A pleasure as always, Harper.” Sarcasm dripped from his reply. He nodded at Stella. “Stella, it was lovely meeting you. I hope to see you again soon, and with a more agreeable date.”
My hand flexed around my champagne glass.
Over my dead fucking body.
“Friend of yours?” Stella asked wryly asked after Mike stormed off.
“My least favorite one. Mike Kurtz, the CEO of Sentinel Security…”
“Harper Security’s biggest competitor,” she finished.
A pleasant warmth chipped away at my earlier irritation. “Been Googling me, Ms. Alonso?”
She lifted her chin, her cheeks turning an adorable brick-red. “I don’t enter pretend relationships without doing my research.”
“Hmm.” I fought a laugh at her dignified tone. “Then you’ll know I attended MIT. Mike was a classmate. We competed for everything—grades, girls, internships. I was always a step ahead, and he hated it. He’s made it his life’s mission to one-up everything I do.” A wry note entered my voice. “He’s yet to succeed.”
Unless he counted the Deacon and Beatrix accounts, which were nothing in the grand scheme of things.
I was competition to him. He was an annoyance to me.
Stella’s brow furrowed. “That sounds like an exhausting way to live.”
“Perhaps.”
People like Mike were too small-minded to devise their own goals, so they looked to those who were more successful than them for a roadmap instead.
No originality. No true purpose or drive. Just a mindless need to stroke their egos for an audience of one.
It would’ve been sad had I given two shits about their lives.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll get the account.” Mischief lit Stella’s eyes. “I, personally, wouldn’t entrust my wellbeing to someone who wears a light blue suit to a black-tie event.”
This time, I didn’t hide my laugh.
Stella and I circulated the room for the next hour before we finally came face to face with Richard Wyatt.
After the obligatory small talk, I steered the conversation toward his security needs, but he seemed more interested in my relationship with Stella.
“Christian Harper with a girlfriend. I never thought I’d see the day.” Richard chuckled. “How did you meet?”
“We met at Queen Bridget’s wedding,” I said smoothly. “I saw her across the room and asked her to dance. The rest is history.”
In truth, we’d exchanged only a quick greeting at Bridget’s wedding, but the story Stella and I had concocted for our meet cute served several purposes: it was simple, easy to remember, more interesting than admitting we met during an apartment tour, and close enough to the truth we wouldn’t trip ourselves up if someone dug deeper.
Plus, name-dropping Bridget always impressed clients, though Richard’s face remained unreadable.
“Speaking of history, I understand you’ve had bad experiences with protection services in the past.” I steered the conversation back to the topic at hand. “But given your public profile, a bodyguard is a necessity, not a luxury.”
Richard gave me a wry look. “It’s always business with you, Harper.”
Yeah, I didn’t attend this fundraiser for my fucking health. Baby turtles? Cute, but not cute enough for me to spend a Saturday night saving them or whatever the hell the party was supposed to do.
I didn’t need Richard as a client. Most of my money came from behind-the-scenes software and hardware development, not protection services.
But his pickiness when it came to hiring was legendary, and I thrived on a challenge.
“You should spend more time with family,” he said. “Relax a little. I took my wife and kids skiing last month, and it was the best…”
I tuned him out as he yammered on about his son’s natural talent at snow sports. I gave negative fucks about his family vacation, and his kids sounded annoying as shit.
Stella, on the other hand, appeared genuinely interested. She asked questions about his kids’ hobbies and offered to connect him with an eco-friendly fashion brand that might be a good partner for his wife’s annual charity fashion show.
It was all so cordial I wanted to shoot someone just to liven things up.
“Where was your last family vacation?” Richard drew my attention back to him.
“I don’t go on family vacations.” Even if my family were alive, I would rather cut off my arm than go on some group cruise through the Caribbean.
Richard’s bushy brows collapsed into a frown while Stella squeezed my hand in what felt like an admonishment.
“Christian can be a workaholic, but he isn’t all business all the time,” she said quickly. “Fun fact: we danced at the wedding, but I didn’t agree to date Christian until later. When I ran into him while volunteering at a senior living facility.”
My smile froze. What the fuck?
That was not the story we’d agreed on.
“Christian volunteering?” Skepticism colored Richard’s words.
I didn’t blame him. My charity went as far as writing a big check.
“Yes.” Stella’s smile didn’t budge. She ignored my warning glance to stay on script and continued, “He was a bit uncomfortable at first, but it’s grown on him. He’s a natural. The residents just adore him, especially during bingo night.”
She lowered her voice. “He doesn’t admit it, but he lets them win on purpose. I saw him hiding a winning card once.”
Bingo night? Letting them win? For fuck’s sake.
“Huh.” Richard eyed me with newfound interest. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Harper.”
“Trust me.” My tone matched the Sahara in dryness. “Neither did I.”
We chatted for a few minutes longer before Richard’s wife came up to us. She and Stella instantly struck up a rapport and drifted off on their own conversation, leaving me and Richard to discuss business.
He listened to me make the case for why he needed a professional protection team, but he interrupted me before I could make an official pitch.
“I know why you came, Harper, and it’s not for the baby turtles. Not that I would tell my wife that. She was thrilled when you RSVPed yes.” Richard cast an affectionate glance at his wife, who was talking to the ambassador from Eldorra.
My shoulders stiffened. Where the hell is Stella?
She’d been talking to Richard’s wife just ten minutes ago.
My eyes scanned the room, but I didn’t find her before Richard spoke again. “My phone has been ringing off the hook with security offers since I let go of my old team. And yes, I know Harper Security is the best.” He held up a hand when I opened my mouth to respond. “But I like to get on well with the people I work with. I need to trust them. You’ve always been a cold bastard, but…” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Perhaps I was wrong.”
The puzzle pieces for why Stella had gone off script clicked into place.
She must’ve picked up on Richard’s baffling need for personal connection.
None of my business partners and current clients gave a shit about personal connection. They only cared about getting the job done.
There was a first for everything, I suppose.
I hid a tiny smile before I closed the deal Stella had opened for me.
I’d underestimated her.
Once I had the opening, it took me less than ten minutes to extract a verbal agreement from Richard. He’d have the contract in his inbox by the end of the night.
Kurtz was out of the game before he even got in the ring.
When Richard left to greet another guest, I scanned the room again for Stella.
Richard’s wife and the ambassador were still talking by the elephant display. Kurtz was hitting on some unlucky blonde at the bar.
No Stella in sight.
Even if she’d gone to the bathroom, she should be back by now.
It’d been too long.
Something’s wrong.
My heartbeat slowed until it was a distant drum in my ears.
I pushed through the crowd, ignoring the protests and dirty looks as I searched for any glimpse of dark curls and green silk.
Nothing.
A fleeting image of her lying on a floor somewhere, hurt and bleeding, flashed through my mind. Panic swelled, so foreign my body fought its encroachment until the hot, frantic rush finally overpowered my resistance and flooded my veins.
Most people’s reactions wouldn’t have veered immediately into she’s in danger territory, but I worked in personal security. That was my fucking job.
Plus, I’d accumulated a long list of enemies over the years. Many wouldn’t hesitate to get to me through someone I cared about, and Stella and I had debuted as a couple tonight.
Dammit. I should’ve been more careful, but I’d vetted the guest list. Other than Kurtz, who was as competent as a toddler operating heavy machinery, I hadn’t seen anyone who was cause for concern.
Of course, someone could’ve easily slipped in with the servers, ushers, or dozens of other people working the party.
My jaw ticked as I entered a dimly lit hall off to the side of the main room.
If anyone touched a goddamn hair on her head…
A door swung open at the end of the hall and, like I’d conjured her through sheer force of will, Stella stepped out, looking calm and unharmed.
Surprise crossed her face when she saw me.
“Hey! Did you close the—” Her sentence cut off with a soft gasp when I closed the distance between us and backed her against the wall.
“Where were you?” My pulse beat a furious rhythm as I scanned her from head to toe, searching for injuries or signs of distress while she stared at me like I was an alien that’d crash-landed on earth.
“I was in the bathroom.” She spoke slowly the way she would to a child. It was only then I noticed the bathroom signs marking the doors.
A frown creased her brow. “Is everything okay? You’re acting weird.”
No, they’re not. Things haven’t been okay since the day I first saw you.
“I thought something happened to you.” The roughness of my voice startled me almost as much as the intensity of my relief.
I shouldn’t care this much. Nothing good ever came from allowing other people control over my emotions.
But goddammit, I did, no matter how much I hated myself for it.
“Next time, let me know before you run off.” The roughness deepened into a command.
I had no desire to experience the terror that had gripped me in the past ten minutes again.
It was ugly, foreign, and completely unacceptable.
“I didn’t run off. I went to the bathroom.” A hint of fire flickered beneath Stella’s words. “I don’t need to tell you every time I leave your side. That wasn’t in our agreement. Besides, you were busy.”
“You were in the bathroom for half an hour?”
“Someone spilled champagne on my dress. I was trying to fix it.”
My eyes dropped to the small, dark stain on her skirt.
“It didn’t work.” Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. “I’m so sorry. I know how expensive it must’ve been. I’ll find a way to pay—”
“Fuck the dress.” It’d cost nearly ten thousand dollars, but I couldn’t summon two shits about what happened to it.
If I had my way, I would tear it off her myself.
A hot, heady awareness replaced my panic. No one else was in the hallway, and Stella’s scent—fresh, subtle, but damn intoxicating—clouded my head.
The memory of her in the car, staring at me with those big green eyes and parted lips, her hard nipples all but begging me to take them in my mouth and taste how sweet they were, flashed through my mind.
Not unlike the way she was staring at me now, only this time, defiance sharpened the edges of her softness.
And fuck, that was a turn-on.
Heat rushed to my groin until my cock ached with a painful throb.
“What I want…” I pressed a thumb against the pulse at the base of her neck. Its wild flutter told me she wasn’t as indifferent to the pull between us as she pretended to be. “Is for you to be safe. There are bad people in this world, Butterfly, and some of them are in the room right outside. So next time, I don’t care if I’m in the middle of a conversation with the Queen of fucking England. Interrupt me. Understand?”
Stella’s eyes narrowed. “Butterfly?”
Beautiful. Elusive. Hard to catch.
When I didn’t answer, she released an exhale that caressed my chest and tightened my groin to the point of pain. “Is that all you want?”
“Not even close.”
A tiny shiver rippled through her. “Because you don’t want to go through the trouble of finding another regular companion for events.”
“Because I don’t want to be jailed for murder if anyone touches a hair on your head.”
A grim smile touched my lips when her eyes widened. She had no clue who I was or what I was capable of.
Meanwhile, I knew more about her than I cared to admit.
Frustration and loathing burned beneath my skin.
I pushed myself off the wall and stepped back.
Adjusted my cufflinks.
Tried to ease the relentless, pounding need in my chest.
“It’s time to return to the party.” Ice cooled my voice. “Shall we?”
We returned to the party in silence.
I didn’t take my eyes off her the rest of the night and told myself it was because I didn’t want a repeat of my earlier scare.
After all, I’d always been good at lying to myself.
