Chapter 10 #2
Part of me wanted to be annoyed. My face was now plastered across social media, which compromised my ability to blend into the background the way a good bodyguard should.
If whoever was stalking Stella was paying attention to her accounts—and they probably were—they now knew exactly what I looked like.
But another part of me—a part I wasn’t proud of—felt something like satisfaction. Stella had chosen me for this. Had dressed me in clothes she’d created with her own hands. Had photographed me with care and skill and what looked like genuine admiration.
She’d made me look like someone worthy of her world.
That thought was dangerous, so I pushed it aside and focused on the security implications instead.
I was deep in analysis—cross-referencing the IP addresses of her most active commenters with known associates, looking for any accounts that had been created recently or showed suspicious patterns—when the door to my study burst open.
Stella stood in the doorway looking like a bristling kitten, all narrowed eyes and clenched fists and barely contained irritation. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she was wearing faded jeans and a tank top that drew my gaze to her full breasts.
She looked absolutely adorable. She also looked ready to commit murder. Possibly mine.
“We need to talk,” she announced.
I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms across my chest. “Do we?”
“Don’t.” She pointed a finger at me, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. “Don’t do that. Don’t be all cool and professional like you haven’t been avoiding me for two days.”
“I haven’t been avoiding you,” I lied. “I’ve been doing my job.”
“Bullshit.” She crossed her arms, mirroring my posture. “You’ve been eating your meals separately. You barely look at me when we’re in the same room. And every time I try to have an actual conversation with you, you suddenly remember some urgent security task that needs your immediate attention.”
I absolutely should not find her anger attractive. But the fire in her eyes, the flush in her cheeks, the way she stood her ground and refused to let me retreat—it did something to me that was deeply inconvenient.
“I’m giving you space,” I said, keeping my tone from carrying outside of the study. “After what happened—”
“What happened is that we kissed. It was a kiss, Tate,” she hissed, keeping her voice equally low. “People kiss all the time. It’s not a crime.”
“It is when one of those people is supposed to be protecting the other.”
“Supposed to be protecting me from external threats,” she shot back. “Not from you. Not from myself. I’m a grown woman. I can decide who I want to kiss.”
I didn’t have a good response to that, so I said nothing.
Stella took a deep breath, visibly reining in her temper. When she spoke again, her voice was calmer but no less determined. “I need to get out of this house.”
“That’s not—”
“It’s been days, Tate,” she interrupted me heatedly.
“Days. And there haven’t been any more threats.
No new photos. No messages. Nothing.” She uncrossed her arms, letting them fall to her sides.
“I have a fitting today. A real client, a real appointment, at her house. I can’t just cancel because you’ve decided that keeping me locked up and ignoring me is easier than actually dealing with whatever’s happening between us. ”
“Nothing is happening between us.”
The look she gave me could have melted steel. “Right. Sure. Keep telling yourself that.” She exhaled a deep breath. “I also have plans to grab a late lunch with Oliver.”
I should have let it go. Should have kept my mouth shut and maintained the professional distance I’d been so carefully cultivating. But seeing her standing there, all righteous fury, made me reckless.
“You mean your boyfriend who isn’t your boyfriend?”
The words landed like stones in still water. I watched the ripples spread across her face—surprise, wariness, and something that looked almost like relief.
“That night I told you about Oliver, that it was a ruse, you said ‘I figured that was the case’,” she said quietly. “How did you know?”
I hesitated a moment before deciding to be honest. “You know I had to investigate him, and I may have come across some... incriminating texts. Between him and another man.”
Stella’s face went pale. “You hacked his phone?”
“I did what was necessary to ensure your safety. Which included ruling out the possibility that your new boyfriend was somehow connected to whoever was threatening you.” I paused, letting that sink in.
“My guess is he’s gay, and your arrangement is mutually beneficial like you said. A convenient cover for both of you.”
For a long moment, Stella just stared at me. I could see her mind working, processing the implications—what I knew and what I might do with that information.
“It is mutually beneficial, and yes…he’s gay,” she finally confirmed.
“Oliver is... he’s a good friend. His boyfriend, Carl, is a politician and they decided that it’s better if their relationship stays private for now.
” She swallowed hard. “So Oliver needed a cover. And I needed my mother to stop trying to set me up with every acceptable bachelor in her social circle. We’re doing each other a favor. ”
“The fake relationship keeps everyone off your backs.”
“Exactly.” She stepped closer, her expression shifting from guarded to pleading. “You can’t tell anyone. Please, Tate. Nobody knows he’s gay—not his family, not his colleagues…If it got out, it would ruin everything he’s worked for.”
I thought about the lengths she’d gone to all to protect a friend. All to buy herself some freedom from her parents’ suffocating expectations.
“I won’t say anything,” I promised.
The relief that washed over her face was almost painful to witness. “Thank you.”
“When do you need to leave for your client appointment?” I asked her, changing the subject and giving her the reprieve from this house that we both probably needed.
“In about an hour. I need to change and gather some things together, and then I’ll be ready to go.”
I nodded in agreement, and she left the study. A few minutes later, I heard raised voices coming from the direction of the kitchen. I was on my feet and moving to assess whatever was happening.
I found Stella in the kitchen with her mother, who was facing down her daughter with disapproval written all over her face. I stopped in the entryway, waiting to see what the issue was.
“—absolutely unacceptable, Stella. Running off to some stranger’s house when there’s a genuine threat against this family and you? Have you completely lost your sense of responsibility?”
“It’s not ‘some stranger’s house,’ Mother.
” Stella’s voice was tight and strained.
“It’s Eleanor Harrington. You know her. You’ve been on three charity boards with her.
And it’s not running off. It’s doing my job.
I have a fitting scheduled. I have a client waiting for me.
I can’t just cancel because you’ve decided I should be locked away in this house indefinitely. ”
“The fitting can wait. Your safety cannot.”
“I have a bodyguard,” she argued. “A highly trained professional who will be with me the entire time. That’s literally what he’s here for.”
Celeste’s lips thinned. “Ah yes. Your bodyguard.” Her gaze swept toward the doorway, and I knew she’d registered my presence even though I hadn’t made a sound, before returning to her daughter.
“Speaking of which, I saw your latest social media posts, Stella. Was it really appropriate to use him as your model?”
The emphasis on him made her meaning clear. The hired muscle. Someone so clearly beneath her daughter’s station that even photographing him was a breach of protocol.
“Tate was kind enough to volunteer his time when I needed someone quickly,” Stella said. “The content is performing exceptionally well. It’s driving traffic to my store and generating significant interest in my menswear line, which is exactly what I’d intended.”
“I’m sure it is. Those photos are quite... flattering.” Celeste’s gaze found mine again, and I saw the undisguised reproach there. “Still. It sends a certain message, doesn’t it? Using your bodyguard as a model. People might get the wrong idea.”
“What idea would that be, Mother?”
“Don’t be naive, Stella. You know exactly what I mean.” Celeste smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from her sleeve. “You have a boyfriend. A perfectly acceptable young man from a good family. If you needed a male model, why not ask Oliver? I’m sure he would have been happy to help.”
Stella jutted out her chin. “Tate was here. It was convenient and he did nothing wrong.”
“Convenient.” Celeste repeated the word like it tasted bad. “Well. I suppose convenience is a priority for your generation.”
I could see Stella’s hands trembling at her sides and the effort it took to maintain her composure.
She wanted to scream at her mother. I could feel it radiating off her in waves.
But she wouldn’t. She’d been trained too well for that.
Trained to smile and nod and swallow the rage until it poisoned her from the inside out.
“I’m going to my fitting now.” Stella’s voice was steady, but I heard the crack beneath the surface. “I’ll be back later this afternoon. Tate will be with me the entire time so there’s nothing for you to worry about.”
She turned and walked toward me, her spine straight, her chin high.
Celeste’s voice followed her. “We’ll discuss those photos later, Stella. And your judgment in posting them.”
Stella didn’t respond. She just kept walking, brushing past me in the doorway, but not before I saw the pained look in her eyes.
The hurt she was trying so hard to hide beneath that rigid posture.
She disappeared down the hallway, and I should have followed her but something held me rooted to the spot, something hot and uncomfortable rising in my chest.
I turned back to face Celeste.