Chapter 241
Chapter 241
Stella's POV
That afternoon, Patricia leaned over the partition between our desks, her voice low.
"So," she said, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "What did you do to get on Mr. Wade's good side?"
I glanced up from my laptop. "What do you mean?"
"Come on, Stella. He's never singled anyone out like that before. And that email yesterday? He basically threatened to fire anyone who so much as looks at you wrong."
I shrugged, trying to play it off. "I guess he just values professionalism."
Patricia snorted. "Professionalism. Right." She leaned in closer. "You know what I think? I think he likes you."
My heart skipped a beat. "Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm serious. The way he looks at you..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "Just be careful, okay? Mr. Wade isn't someone you want to mess with."
I wanted to tell her that I wasn't messing with anyone, that I was just trying to keep my head down and do my job. But the truth was more complicated than that.
The truth was that Julian had gotten under my skin in a way I hadn't expected. And I didn't know what to do about it.
---
At five o'clock, I gathered my things and headed for the elevator. My phone buzzed with a text from Christian.
Christian: Dinner tonight? I miss you.
I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. I should say yes. I should go to him, let him wrap me in his arms, let him make me forget about the chaos of the past few days.
But I didn't want to.
I wanted to go home, crawl into bed, and not think about anything for a while.
Me: Rain check? I'm exhausted.
His reply came almost immediately.
Christian: You've been saying that a lot lately.
I frowned.
Me: It's been a rough week.
Christian: I know. That's why I want to see you. Let me take care of you.
I sighed, my shoulders sagging.
Me: Tomorrow. I promise.
There was a long pause before his next message came through.
Christian: Fine. But I'm holding you to that.
I shoved my phone into my bag and stepped into the elevator, my mind already a million miles away.
---
When I got home, I didn't bother turning on the lights. I just kicked off my shoes, dropped my bag by the door, and collapsed onto the couch.
My phone buzzed again. I pulled it out, expecting another message from Christian.
But it wasn't Christian.
It was Logan.
Logan: Hey. You okay? Haven't heard from you in a while.
I stared at the message, my chest tightening. Logan. God, I'd barely thought about him in days.
Me: I'm fine. Just busy with work.
Logan: Too busy to text?
I didn't know how to answer that. The truth was, I'd been avoiding him. Avoiding everyone, really. Because the more people I let in, the more complicated everything became.
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed again. But this time, it wasn't a text.
It was an Instagram notification.
Nathan Kensington tagged you in a post.
I frowned and opened the app. My breath caught in my throat.
Nathan had posted a series of photos from the yacht trip. Most of them were harmless—shots of the ocean, the sunset, the group gathered around the deck.
But one of them made my blood run cold.
It was a photo of me and Nathan, standing side by side on the deck, smiling at the camera. The caption read: "Look what I caught this weekend."
But the next photo in the slide made my blood run cold. It was taken later that night. In the background, barely visible but unmistakable, were me and Christian. We were standing under the fireworks, his arms wrapped around me, our faces turned toward each other in a kiss.
I scrolled down to the comments, my hands shaking.
Tony: Bro, you're playing with fire.
Dylan: RIP Nathan. Christian's gonna kill you.
I dropped my phone onto the couch, my heart pounding.
This was bad. This was really, really bad.
My phone buzzed again. This time, it was Logan.
Logan: What the hell is this?
He'd sent a screenshot of Nathan's post.
Logan: When were you going to tell me you were hanging out with Nathan Kensington?
Logan: And who the fuck is that in the background?
Logan: Stella. Answer me.
I stared at the messages, my mind racing. I needed to fix this. I needed to—
My phone rang. Logan's name flashed across the screen.
I didn't answer.
It rang again. And again.
Finally, I turned it off and buried my face in my hands.
This was spiraling out of control. And I had no idea how to stop it.