Page 121 of PR Stunt

His smile softens, but there’s something unhinged in the way his fingers twitch at his sides.

“I even left you something special,” he says. “Your favorite flower. On your bed.”

Realization hits me like a sucker punch. “How did you get into my house?” I blurt.

His smile spreads, like I’ve said something sweet.

“Because I know you.” His eyes light with a strange sort of satisfaction. “Angel numbers as your code? And you showed me, during that Vogue interview. On your journal.”

I’m going to be sick. He’s been inside my house—who knows how many times? I picture my bedroom. My bathroom. My closet. The spaces that are mine. My safe places.

He takes another small step forward, gaze flicking over my dress. “And the drinks… Boy, you love your martinis,” he chuckles. “I sent them to you and Juno that night. Which, by the way…” His mouth twitches. “I’m still deciding how I feel about Juno. We’ll work on that.”

I inhale sharply. The round of drinks. The “random stranger.”

“And man,” he adds, almost amused now, “one day you left your house in such a hurry, ran straight to Pilates. It was hard to keep up with you. You’re very fast.”

A chill tears through me.

Keep him talking. Keep him distracted.

But something shifts in his face. The softness disappears. His jaw clenches. His breathing grows shallow.

“Then you started dating that…playboy filth.” The words drip from his mouth like poison. His entire body is rigid now. “He never deserved you.”

Every muscle in my body locks into place, but my mind races. I take it back, Anna. Please come back up.

His eyes darken, burning with something furious. “I even tried to show you.” His hands clench at his sides, a storm brewing beneath his skin. “I tried to make you see how bad he is. With those articles.”

My throat closes. This man, this complete stranger, has been orchestrating my life from the shadows, pulling strings I didn’t even know existed. Watching. Waiting. Intervening.

“You smiled at me once,” he says suddenly, almost shy now. “Outside Chateau Marmont. You looked right at me.”

His gaze drags over me slowly, lingering in a way that makes my skin crawl. “You’re even more beautiful up close,” he says, voice lowering. “The way your hair catches the light…like it’s spun from gold. And when you laugh, it slips over your shoulders like silk.”

My stomach twists.

His gaze trails lower, over my collarbone, the neckline of my dress, every inch of exposed skin. “People think they know beauty because they see you on screen. They have no idea.”

He tilts his head, studying me with something almost tender, which somehow makes it worse. “You really are perfect.” A pause. “My perfect doll.” His mouth curves faintly. “I’ve waited a long time to have you all to myself.”

He surveys around the room like he’s already rearranging my life inside his head. “We’ll have to put out some kind of statement about why you’re leaving Hollywood,” he says almost thoughtfully. “People will ask questions. But don’t worry…” His gaze settles back on me. “We’ll figure it out together.”

The words land like something physical. I’ve smiled at thousands of strangers, waved at crowds, thanked photographers without thinking. To him, it meant something. A sharp buzz from the bed cuts through the silence. I move without considering, taking a single step toward it—

So does he. Faster. A glint of silver catches the light, and my breath stutters. He lifts a knife just enough for me to see. His voice is almost gentle when he speaks, as if this is a conversation we’ve had a thousand times.

“I know you’re smart, Charlie.” His grip on the knife tightens. “You wouldn’t do anything reckless to jeopardize us.”

My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out everything but the deafening truth that I am alone with this man, and he has a knife.

Act. Act, Charlie, my instincts yell.

I force myself to stay still, to keep my expression smooth, but my skin is crawling. My gut is screaming at me to run. I swallow hard, forcing my voice to stay level. “Of course not.”

The tension in his shoulders eases just slightly, but his grip on the knife doesn’t waver.

“Good,” he murmurs. “I knew you’d understand. I’ve always known. You just needed time to see it.”