LOGIN**Stella's POV** "Good morning to you too, Barbara—" "No. I don't need your greetings." She holds up a finger. "You haven't reported to work in over one month and now this—" her voice drops to something scandalized "—What is going on?" "You'll find out soon enough—" "Find out soon enough?" She stares at me. "Stella. You have been gone for a month. A whole month. No calls, no emails, nothing. Half this office thought you'd been fired. The other half thought you quit. Senior HR was about to process your exit paperwork. What are you doing here?" Process my exit?! My heart stutters as I didn't expect to hear her say such a thing to my face. "You will know in due time," I say, as gently as I can. "All of you will know very soon. I promise." I squeeze her arm once. "Now excuse me, I'm running late." She opens her mouth to say something but I leave her standing there with more questions than she pulled me to the side with. --- I'm almost at the elevator when another voice c
**Stella's POV** Shawn's question sits in the car with us. I don't answer it immediately, which is already an answer, and we both know it. I turn back to the window. The city is fully awake now — pedestrians, morning traffic, the glass faces of buildings catching the early light — and I watch all of it without seeing any of it, because the honest answer to his question is the one thing I cannot afford to say out loud. No, I'm not sure. I haven't been sure since the first moment he touched me, and the fact that I spent the better part of last night constructing a very clean, very reasonable explanation for why it was a last time suggests I'm even less sure than I'd like to admit. But that is not information Shawn Black gets to have. "The boundary stands," I say finally, my voice level. "Whether I'm sure or not is irrelevant." I feel him look at me. Then a scoff — low, almost private. "That's not a no," he says. "It's not an invitation either." A beat. Then, quietly
**Shawn's POV** Goddess, I hate it when people who've never really been part of my life suddenly act like they care — like they have any right to. "Out." I respond flatly, and Aunt Lisa's frown turns to a scowl. "Out?" she repeats, like the word owes her more than one syllable. "Yes." I step past her and push the door open, hoping she won't follow me in. But Aunt Lisa follows me inside, her heels clicking sharply against my floors. "Shawn Emmanuel Black. I'm your Aunt and your owe me more than a one word explanation." She uses my full names hoping I will give into her, but I keep moving further into the house. The thing about Aunt Lisa is that she operates on the assumption that because she was around when my parents were alive, I owe her every answer she demands. As though she raised me herself. "You could have called," she adds. "So could you." "I did call. All my calls went to voicemail." "Then that explains it." I set my keys on the side table. "I was busy w
**Shawn's POV** "You can leave my bedroom now." I go still. Of all the things I expected her to say, that wasn't one of them. I look down at her — she's already shifting slightly away from me, creating distance where there wasn't any a minute ago, her eyes fixed somewhere past my shoulder like the wall has suddenly become very interesting. "Stella." "Mm." "What just happened between us—" "You should get some sleep," she says like she's closing a tab she opened by accident. "It's late and tomorrow is going to be a long day." I study her profile. "That's what you're going with." "I don't know what you mean." "You know exactly what I mean." She finally looks at me, and her expression is composed in the particular way that takes effort to maintain. "We've both had an intense night. Adrenaline does strange things to people. It didn't mean anything, Shawn. Let's not make it complicated." She is blaming adrenaline. I look at her for a long moment with a frown and th
**Stella's POV** I kiss Shawn like I'm trying to forget everything that happened tonight—the swerving car, the screaming tires, the certainty that I was about to die with my son in the backseat. His hands move to my waist and grip hard, and I press closer, needing to feel something other than fear. Needing to feel alive instead of like a ghost who narrowly escaped her own death. The steam wraps around us. He's naked and dripping, and I'm still clothed, and somehow that makes this feel even more urgent. His hands find the belt for my robe, untie and pull it down in one smooth motion. It hits the wet tile with a sound I barely register because his mouth is on my neck now, finding that spot that makes my thoughts scatter. I should feel self-conscious. Should second-guess this. But all I feel is the desperate need to let this night out of my body somehow—to replace terror with sensation. He lifts me onto the counter, and the cold tile against my back makes me gasp. His hands
** Shawn's POV** The bathroom is exactly as I left it the last time I used it. It smells like her as I turn the shower on hot and step in and stand there and let the night come apart under the water. I press both palms flat against the tiles. I can't believe I have spent years in the inner circles of this family — present enough to be useful, invisible enough to be forgotten in the moments that matter. I have survived all of it by knowing my exact place and never once stepping outside it. Tonight I sat in a car with Victor's daughter and told her, in the space between careful words, that the danger was her stepmom and brothers. She is going to be very difficult to be professionally neutral about it especially that they tried to get rid of her when she was with her pup That thought is still settling when the bathroom door opens. I turn without urgency — and stop. Stella is in the doorway. She has clothes folded over one arm — a grey shirt, dark joggers — and she
**Shawn's POV** "What do interns usually look like?" Stella asks, and I can hear the slight edge in her voice. She doesn't like him. Thank fuck. "I just mean—" Ezekiel moves closer, his smile widening, "—you seem too... polished for an entry-level position. Most interns come in wearing khakis a
**Stella's POV** Barbara—as she finally introduced herself—leads me through the sleek lobby of Ace Industries with brisk, efficient steps that her sensible flats make easy. My Louboutins, on the other hand, are already starting to pinch. I keep pace with her, refusing to show any sign of disc
**Stella's POV** "I understand," Cole says quietly. "Good. Don't call this number again unless it's about Maya or an actual emergency involving her. Goodbye, Cole." I hang up before he can respond. For a moment, I just sit there, my heart pounding, my hands shaking slightly... How dare he qu
**Stella's POV** "Cole?" I sit up straighter, pulling the sheets around me. "How did you get my number and why are you calling me?" Riley's eyebrows shoot up, and she mouths Cole Grant? with a look of surprise and disgust. "Good morning to you too, Stella." His voice is smooth, and too controlle







