Chapter 9: Twisted Lies: Chapter 9

“Stella! I know you’re in there. Open up!”

I buried my face in my silk pillowcase, hoping the voice would go away, but knowing its owner, they would camp out in my hall until I inevitably had to leave for fresh air and food.

My morning visitor was nothing if not persistent.

“Stella Alonso! You can’t hide from me.” A pause, followed by a more conciliatory, “I have matcha.”

A groan escaped into my pillow.

I shouldn’t have put Jules on my list of approved visitors, but I also hadn’t expected her to beat down my door at…I raised my head and glanced at my digital clock…seven fifty-four in the morning.

Since she was already here and the chances of her leaving without answers were slim, I forced myself out of bed and into the living room.

I wish I’d had more time to prepare for human interaction. I hadn’t even gotten the chance to wash my face yet, much less meditate or practice my morning yoga.

I stifled a yawn as I swung open the door and blinked at the fuzzy purple-clad figure in front of me.

“It’s about time.” Jules stood in the hall, one hand planted on her hip and the other carrying a drinks tray from a nearby coffee shop. “Five more minutes and I would’ve broken down your door.”

“With your arm strength? Doubtful.”

I cracked a smile at her offended gasp. “Who are you and what have you done to Stella? She would say something so hurtful.”

“The Stella you’re talking about typically doesn’t have people pounding down her door at eight in the morning.”

I rubbed a hand over my face. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls, and I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than how much I’d rather crawl back into bed.

“First of all, it’s eight oh-five. Second of all, after the bombshell you dropped on Instagram yesterday? You—” Jules exhaled sharply and smoothed a hand over her fuzzy purple coat. “No, we’re not doing this in the hallway. Let’s talk inside. Can I come in?”

“Would you leave if I said no?”

Her laser stare burned through her giant sunglasses and into my skin.

I sighed and opened the door wider. “You mentioned matcha?”

I gave up on coffee years ago because it worsened my anxiety. Matcha lattes were the closest I came to espresso these days.

“Yes. Consider this my bribe for all the juicy details.” Jules handed me the drink as she waltzed inside and pushed her sunglasses on top of her head. “Now…” She inhaled a long, deep breath.

I winced at the increasing volume of her questions while a construction crew invaded my head.

Every swing of a hammer reverberated through my skull with bone-rattling force.

How much did I drink last night? Not much, right? I usually limited my alcohol intake to three glasses per night, but I wouldn’t be this hungover after three glasses.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to piece the fuzzy pieces from last night together.

.

The memory of my encounter with Christian slammed into me with such force it knocked the breath out of my lungs.

Everything came rushing back—our agreement, the photo I posted, the delicious roughness of his hand in mine when we were talking to Mike, and the headiness of his scent when he pinned me to the wall.

Part of me was annoyed by his overprotectiveness when I’d just gone to the bathroom, for God’s sake.

Another larger, more shameful part thrilled at the idea that he cared.

Pathetic? Probably.

True? Undeniably.

No one had cared that much about me since Maura, and Christian and I weren’t even really dating.

“…who is it?”

“Hmm?” Was Christian at home, or had he already left for the day?

I tried to picture him eating and sleeping like a normal person and couldn’t.

“Who’s your boyfriend?” Jules repeated. “You didn’t tag him, but that ” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I can tell just by his hand that he’s hot.”

Another piece from last night slotted into place.

My Instagram post. I’d been so busy at the gala I hadn’t checked my notifications.

I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat. “I—”

“Good morning!” A quick knock on the half-open door interrupted my response. Ava entered, looking far too bright-eyed and fresh-faced for this early in the morning. “Am I late? Did I miss anything good?” She set a white Crumble & Bake bag on a side table. “Breakfast pastries,” she explained, following my gaze.

She opened the bag and handed out muffins.

My mouth watered at the smell.

At least my friends brought food to my interrogation. I wasn’t above accepting bribery.

I almost groaned as the taste of warm, freshly baked muffin exploded on my tongue.

“Stella was just about to tell me who her mystery man is.” Jules ripped off a piece of blueberry muffin and popped it into her mouth.

Ava’s face lit up. “I bet he’s hot,” she said. “You can tell by the watch.”

“That’s what I said!” Jules beamed. “Great minds think alike.”

The banana muffin turned sour in my mouth as they stared at me expectantly.

It was one thing to lie on social media; it was another to lie to my friends’ faces. I didn’t tell them everything about my life—they thought I had a great relationship with my family, and they didn’t know about Maura. Being the “perfect” family was so important to my parents that sharing anything that didn’t align with that felt more difficult than it should have.

Ava and Jules were my best friends, yet I still kept so much of my life to myself.

But could I stand here and tell them Christian and I were dating when we weren’t? Not really, anyway.

They’d only asked for his name, not the details of our relationship. I’d cross that bridge when I got to it.

“He’s—”

I was interrupted yet again, this time by the insistent ring of my phone.

I didn’t have to check caller ID to know who was calling, and a quick glance at the incoming FaceTime proved me right.

“Hi, Bridget.” I rubbed my face again. I would kill for some yoga right now. I never felt right when I started the day without it. “I assume you’re calling to join the inquisition?”

“Funny.” Bridget raised an elegant blonde brow. “But since you mention it, yes. This is the time I’ve been kept out of the loop regarding your love lives. I don’t appreciate it.”

Last summer, Jules shocked us all when she announced she was dating Ava’s brother Josh. Josh and Jules had hated each other since the day they met, and a romantic relationship between them had seemed as likely as snowfall in Miami.

However, they were still going strong after they made things official seven months ago, so I guess the old adage was true. There really was a thin line between love and hate.

Despite the nerves coiled in my stomach, I had to fight a laugh at Bridget’s uncharacteristic grumbling.

“I’m sure you have more things to worry about than our love lives, ,” I teased.

She’d been a princess during our college days, but she became queen after her older brother abdicated and her grandfather stepped down due to health reasons.

It still boggled my mind that I was best friends with a literal queen, but Bridget was so down to earth I forgot she was royalty half the time.

She wrinkled her nose. “More things? Yes. More things? Debatable.”

“Guys, please. Let’s get things back on track,” Jules said. “Who have you been hiding from us, Stel? Give us a name. Picture. Anything.

I need to know before I die from curiosity.”

She flopped onto the couch in a dramatic heap.

I shook my head.

If I looked up in the dictionary, I’d find Jules Ambrose’s face next to it, but I loved her anyway. At least she was into fun drama and not the nasty, backstabbing kind.

“Fine. I’ll tell you, but don’t freak out.” I drew my bottom lip between my teeth. “It’s Christian Harper.”

Three blank stares greeted my confession.

I couldn’t remember the last time my friends had been this speechless. They usually talked more than a daytime talk show host.

The taste of copper filled my mouth from how hard I was biting my lip.

“Rhys’s old boss?” Bridget’s brow creased with confusion.

Her husband Rhys used to work for Harper Security. That was actually how they met. He’d been assigned to her after her previous bodyguard returned home to Eldorra for paternity leave.

“Yes.”

“What does he have to do with this?” Jules looked equally confused.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

Still nothing. I might as well be talking to the Madame Tussaud’s wax versions of my friends for all the reaction they showed.

“Who’s your boyfriend?” Ava asked.

Oh, for goodness’ sake.

I threw my hands up. “He’s the guy in the photo I posted last night! We’re dating. Well, fake dating, but that’s another story.”

Silence stretched for a long, stunned second before chaos erupted.

“

?”

“What do you mean, “He’s dangerous—”

“How long has this been going on—”

“Is he forcing you into this, because I saw the way he looked at you—”

“

.” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

This was why I didn’t share things about my life often. Not because I didn’t want accountability, but because of other people’s reactions and expectations, whatever they may be.

I forced a calming breath through my nose before I addressed my friends’ points one by one.

“Yes, Christian is my fake boyfriend. Like I said, it’s a long story. He is dangerous—I mean, he’s a little intense, but he runs a security company. His job is literally to protect people’s lives. Plus, he’s friends with Rhys, so he can’t be that bad. Last night was our first fake date, and no, he is not forcing me into this.”

The last part was definitely true. The rest was debatable, but I kept that to myself.

“I wouldn’t say he’s friends with Rhys. They have…” Bridget paused, “an interesting relationship.”

“Forget Rhys,” Jules said. “No offense, Bridge. He’s great and all, but I want to know about the boyfriend part. Stel, you don’t even want a real relationship. Why on earth are you in a fake one? Are you in trouble?” Concern dimmed some of the sparkle in her eyes.

Guilt flared to life in my chest.

I hated burdening people with my problems, but I should’ve anticipated their worry. Any romantic relationship was out of the norm for me. I wasn’t opposed to dating, I just…wasn’t interested.

I liked the of it. When I read a romance book, watched a romantic scene, or saw cute couples at dinner, a yearning for something similar tugged at my gut. But once the book or movie was over and I re-entered the bright light of reality, the yearning disappeared.

Romanticizing love was easy. Falling in love was harder, especially when my previous relationships had all lacked…

. Some sort of emotional connection that would make the risk of falling worth it.

Plus, I’d gotten used to being single, and I doubted the reality of love could live up to my fantasies of it, so I didn’t even try.

“I’m not in trouble. I promise,” I said when I noticed Jules’s skeptical expression. “I just…”

My skin heated at how shallow that sounded.

The truth was more complicated, but I couldn’t dig into it without telling my friends about Maura, and was a conversation I wasn’t prepared to have at eight-thirty in the morning.

“I’m in the running for a huge brand deal, but I don’t have as many followers as some of the other girls. I figured I could improve my chances if I hit the million mark.”

Bridget’s frown deepened. “How does that tie in with getting a boyfriend?”

I reluctantly explained the rest of my plan. It sounded even more ridiculous when I said it out loud to people who weren’t familiar with the influencer world, but there was no point in holding back.

When I finished, the silence was a thousand times heavier than the one before.

“Wow,” Ava finally said. “That’s…wow.”

“Is sex part of the deal? If it’s not, it should be. Christian looks like he would be a in bed.” As expected, Jules was the first to get over her shock and jump straight to the dirty part. “No offense, but you could use a little lovin’ in your life. As much as we adore you, there are some things we can’t provide.”

“No, it isn’t, and it never will be,” I said firmly.

I’d made it clear to Christian that our arrangement wouldn’t encompass any physical displays of affection unless they were necessary to sell our public image as a couple.

Sex didn’t factor into the equation.

No matter how gorgeous he was or how good he be in bed.

My skin heated at a mental image of a naked—

This was what happened when I missed my morning routine. My brain freaked out and started picturing things it had no business picturing.

I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d fantasized about sex, let alone had it.

“Are you everything’s okay?” Ava’s concern was palpable. “You’ve never cared that much about your follower count before.”

I hadn’t obsessed over it the way other bloggers did, but saying I didn’t care was giving me too much credit.

Everyone trying to grow a platform on social media cared, and those that said they didn’t were lying.

Those little numbers could wreak havoc on anyone’s mental health.

“I’m not trying to be combative,” Ava added softly. “If this is what you want to do, we’ll support you. It just seems a little…”

“Out of character,” Bridget finished.

I stared at the half-empty takeout cup in my hand. “Maybe. But maybe it’s also time to try something new.”

I was twenty-six. I’d had one “real” job since I graduated and no significant developments in my personal or professional lifes. I considered blogging my second job, but a lot of people didn’t and I hated how I let their opinions affect the many hours of real work I poured into writing, styling, photography, and social media.

I was basically doing the same thing I’d been doing since college, only I was older and a little more jaded.

Meanwhile, Ava had moved to London (even if it’d only been temporary), got engaged, and landed her dream job traveling the world as a photographer; Bridget got married and became a freaking and Jules passed the bar, became a high-powered attorney, and moved in with her boyfriend.

Everyone was starting new chapters of their lives while I was stuck in the prologue, waiting for my story to be told.

I swallowed the bitterness coating my tongue. If I didn’t shake things up, I’d be an unfinished manuscript forever. A thousand potential words that never made it onto the page. Someone who been something instead of someone who something.

“Understandable. Change is the spice of life,” Jules agreed. Her face softened before she added, “Like Ava said, we’re not trying to challenge you on this. We just want to make sure it’s what you really want. If you’re happy, we’re happy.”

“I know.” I cracked a tiny smile. “At the risk of sounding completely cheesy…I love you guys.”

“Did you hear that?” Jules placed a hand over her chest and looked at Ava. “She loves us. She really loves us!”

“You know what that means,” Ava said solemnly.

“You guys—” I barely had a chance to put my drink down before they tackled me in a hug. “Stop!” I laughed, my earlier melancholy melting beneath their affection.

“Don’t mind me. I’m just over here in Eldorra, not jealous at all,” Bridget said.

I raised my phone so we could see her again. She wore a half-amused, half-envious expression.

“You need to visit us soon. We miss you.”

We hadn’t seen her in person since Ava’s birthday last year, when she’d surprised us at the party.

“I will, I promise.” Bridget grew serious. “In the meantime, be careful with Christian. He’s not the type of man who does anything out of the goodness of his heart.”

No, he wasn’t. But I didn’t need Bridget to tell me that.

After my friends left an hour later with promises not to tell anyone, including their significant others, about my deal with Christian, I showered and brewed myself a fresh pot of tea before I finally picked up my phone. I stared at the Instagram icon on my screen and held my breath as I tapped into my profile.

I stared at my numbers, sure I was hallucinating.

Over one hundred thousand likes, four thousand comments, and ten thousand new followers overnight.

I pinched myself and flinched at the sharp burst of pain.

I’d expected good engagement on the photo with Christian, but I hadn’t expected .

Giddiness ballooned in my chest while my mind raced with possibilities.

Would another photo with Christian go viral in a similar manner, or was this a one-off because it was the first one?

There was only one way to find out.

Visions of a million followers, six-figure brand deals, and paying an entire year’s worth of Maura’s care in one go with savings left over danced in my head.

Maybe I’d signed a deal with the devil when I agreed to my arrangement with Christian…

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t worth it.