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Dark hair. Whiskey eyes. A face so exquisitely chiseled it could’ve been sculpted by Michelangelo himself. Christian Harper.
If my thoughts were chaos, she was my anchor. They always went back to her.
Twin flames of resentment and frustration burned in my chest. I was weak for Stella Alonso, and I hated it.
“Touch Stella again, and you’ll no longer have a fiancée.” I slammed the door in his face. Dante was my first client and an old friend. I didn’t provoke him often. But like I said, I didn’t like people touching what was mine.
“Fine, I’m not interested in your sex life.” “Hmm. That’s a shame.” The hint of laughter intensified.
“Careful, Stella.” His low warning pulsed between my legs. “I’m not the gentleman you think I am.”
Green eyes. Green dress. Symbolic of life and nature. Green. Apparently it was my new favorite fucking color.
“Because I don’t want to be jailed for murder if anyone touches a hair on your head.”
Some photos were worth a thousand words. This photo said only one. Mine.
Touching her killed me, then brought me back to life again.
“If you saw yourself the way other people see you,” he said quietly, “you’d never doubt again.”
Curiosity and something infinitely sweeter and more dangerous fluttered to life in my heart. “How do other people see me?” Christian’s eyes didn’t leave mine. “Like you’re the most beautiful, most remarkable thing they’ve ever seen.”
“It’s because you haven’t looked me in the eye since New York. Because you’re all I can fucking think about no matter where I am or who I’m with, and the thought of you hurt or upset makes me want to raze this city to the ground.” Soft, almost desperate viciousness coated his voice. “I’ve never wanted someone more, and I’ve never hated myself more for it.”
Because when I claimed Stella as mine, I would do it so fucking thoroughly there wouldn’t be a shred of doubt in either of our minds as to who she belonged to…or who I belonged to in return.
“Let’s put it this way. DC Christian looks like he would murder you if you cut him off in traffic. Hawaii Christian looks like he would give you a ride if he saw your car broken down on the side of the road.”
“Stella.” He leaned forward, his face serious. “The day I wear a Hawaiian-print shirt is the day cows fucking fly.”
“I don’t like dessert.” A horrified gasp rose in my throat. “All dessert?” “All dessert,” he confirmed.
But if there was one thing both sides agreed on, it was that she was mine. And now that she was in my life, there was no letting her go.
“I could watch you count every grain of sand on the beach and it would be exciting.”
“Drop your arms for me, sweetheart. I want to see you.”
“I notice everything about you.”
“Tell me…” He curled a hand around the nape of my neck. “Does this feel fake to you?”
“I want to make a few things clear.” Christian’s lips brushed mine with each word. “Touch another man, he dies. Let another man touch you, he dies. Tell me I can’t touch you…” His grip tightened on the back of my neck as his voice dropped. “And I will fucking die.”
The world wasn’t black and white, no matter how much I wished it were. And sometimes, we found our happiness in the shades of gray.
