Chapter ONE

The camera shutters sounded like rapid-fire bullets, and every single one of them was giving Cali a headache.

"Chin up, Cali! Give us enigma! Give us ice queen!" the photographer barked, his voice grating against her nerves like sandpaper.

Cali didn't move. She kept her gaze fixed on a peeling piece of tape on the studio wall, her face set in a look of pure, unadulterated boredom.

"I'm giving you unpaid,'" she snapped, her voice dry and biting. "My contract said the shoot ended at five. It's 5:02. My face is closed for business."

She stepped off the pedestal before they could catch another frame, ignoring the frantic gasps of the stylists.

She began ripping the diamond pins out of her hair with zero regard for the expensive extensions.

"Cali, darling, don't be difficult," her mother, Elena, hissed as she swept into the dressing room.

Elena wasn't just her mother, she was a woman who treated her daughter's beauty like a high-yield savings account.

"The designer is right there. Smile. Flatter him. We need this campaign to pay off the house taxes." Cali shifted her glare to her mother in the vanity mirror.

"The house taxes or your gambling debt in Atlantic City, Mom? Let's be honest for once. It's exhausting."

"How dare you speak to me like that?" Elena's face contorted into a mask of faux-offense.

"I made you. Without me, you'd be a nobody in a thrift store hoodie."

"At least nobody gets to sleep past 6:00 AM," Cali muttered, grabbing a makeup wipe and aggressively scrubbing the designer war paint off her cheekbones.

"Get out. You're suffocating the air here." She watched her mother storm out, the door slamming behind her.

Cali leaned her head against the cool glass of the mirror, closing her eyes.

The room felt cold. Too cold.

She felt that same prickling sensation on the back of her neck, the one she'd been feeling for weeks. It was as if someone was standing right behind her, breathing her air, tasting her space.

She whipped around, her heart thudding once, hard, against her ribs.

The dressing room was empty. Just racks of clothes and shadows.

"Get a grip, Cali," she whispered to herself, her hands shaking slightly as she reached for her bag.

"You're just tired of being everyone's golden goose."

She headed for the back exit, avoiding the main lobby. She didn't see the black SUV idling at the curb, its tinted windows reflecting nothing but the grey city street.

She just walked, her heels clicking a sharp, angry rhythm on the pavement, completely unaware that her "mean attitude" was the only thing keeping her from shattering.

The back alley of the studio was damp and smelled of old rain and expensive trash. Cali pulled her leather jacket tighter around her shoulders, the biting wind catching the damp spots where she'd scrubbed off her makeup.

"Cali! Wait!"

She didn't even have to turn around to know it was her brother, Leo. He was jogging toward her, his tie loosened and his face flushed with the kind of desperation that usually meant he needed a five-figure 'loan' to cover a bad bet.

"Not today, Leo," she snapped, not breaking her stride.

"I already gave Mom the check for the mortgage. If you want more, go sell your watch."

"It's not that," Leo panted, catching up to her and grabbing her arm. Cali wrenched it away, her eyes flashing with a cold, grumpy fire.

"The guys I... I ran into some people, Cali. Dangerous people. They said the debt has been cleared."

Cali stopped dead. She turned to him, her brow furrowed in a deep, suspicious line.

"Cleared? By who? You haven't had a job in three years."

"I don't know!" Leo whispered, looking over his shoulder as if the shadows were listening.

"Some suit in a black car met me at the docks. He didn't even want the money. He just told me to stay away from you. Told me if I stressed you out one more time, I'd be decommissioned.'"

Cali let out a harsh, jagged laugh.

"Decommissioned? What is this, a bad movie? You probably just hallucinated it while you were coming down from whatever you're on."

"I'm serious, Cal! The guy knew your schedule. He knew what time you finished the shoot today. He knew you liked those stupid blackberry crepes!"

Cali felt a chill that had nothing to do with the wind. It was that prickling sensation again that heavy, invisible weight pressing against her spine. She scanned the street.

A block away, a black SUV sat idling, its headlights dim, looking like a predator crouched in the tall grass.

"Stay away from me, Leo," she said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous hiss.

"I don't care who's paying your debts. Just stay out of my life before you drag me down with you." She turned her back on him, her heels clicking aggressively against the pavement.

She felt the gaze of the black car following her, tracking her every movement with a terrifying, silent devotion.

She didn't look back. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

She reached her apartment building and slammed the heavy iron door behind her, the sound echoing through the empty lobby like a gunshot. She leaned against the cool metal, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

"I'm losing my mind," she whispered to the empty hallway.

She walked up the stairs, her feet heavy. When she reached her door, she froze. Tucked into the handle was a single, dark red rose, the exact kind she had told a reporter she hated three years ago because they were cliché and suffocating.

Pinned to the stem was a small, cream-colored note.

You looked tired today, Cali baby. Rest. I'm watching.

Cali ripped the note to shreds, her hands shaking with a mix of fury and a fear she refused to acknowledge. She threw the rose into the hallway trash can and stepped inside, locking all three bolts on her door.

She didn't turn on the lights. She just sat on the floor in the dark, her grumpy mask finally cracking as she stared at the sliver of streetlights peeking through her blinds.

Outside, the black SUV didn't move. It stayed there, a silent sentinel in the night, waiting for the moment the soulmate would finally claim what was his.