Page 18 of Porcelain Lies

My heart stutters. I grip the champagne flute tighter, the crystal cool against my suddenly warm skin. “I… what? When?”

“Now.”

“Right now?” Red flags wave in my mind. I’ve just told this stranger about Gianni’s betrayal, and now he’s asking me to dinner? It’s too fast, too soon. And yet…

His presence fills my senses — that heady cologne, the intensity of his dark eyes, the way his accent wraps around each word.

“I don’t even know your name,” I manage to say, though my voice sounds breathless even to my own ears.

“Does it matter?” His lips curve slightly, not quite a smile.

“Be careful,”Boyana whispers in my head.“Remember what just happened with Gianni.”

She’s right. I should say no. I should focus on picking up the pieces of my shattered engagement, not jumping into dinner with a mysterious Russian businessman who makes my skin tingle with awareness.

But there’s something about him that feels different. Gianni was all surface charm and practiced lines. This man… his directness should frighten me. Instead, it’s refreshingly honest.

“I don’t usually—” I start, but he cuts me off.

“Neither do I.” His eyes lock onto mine, and I see something intriguing flash beneath that controlled exterior. “Say yes.”

My chest tightens. Part of me wants to run — it’s too soon, too intense. But another part, the part that’s tired of playing it safe, of being predictable Stella who always does the right thing, wants to take this risk.

I take a shaky breath, acutely aware of how his presence seems to fill this quiet corner. My fingers trace the rim of the champagne glass, buying time while my mind races.

“Think about what you’re doing,”Boyana’s voice echoes in my head.“You just found out about Gianni…”

But that’s exactly it, isn’t it? Gianni. The perfect fiancé who’d been living a double life, fucking another woman. Heat rises in my chest — not embarrassment this time, but anger.

“Yes.” The word slips out before I can second-guess myself. My heart pounds wildly, a mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through me.

His eyes darken with something that looks like satisfaction. “Good.”

“But I need to finish here first.” I gesture vaguely toward the main hall. “Give me twenty minutes?”

He nods once, the movement precise and controlled like everything else about him. “I’ll be by the entrance.”

I watch him walk away, my heart racing. What the hell am I doing? This isn’t like me — impulsive decisions, dinner with mysterious strangers.

But maybe that’s exactly what I need. Something completely different from Gianni’s calculated charm and hollow promises.

Maybe tonight I need to do something wild. Something reckless. Somethingdangerous.

As I watch him disappear into the crowd — this magnetic stranger with storm-dark eyes and an aura of barely contained power — I can’t help thinking that he’s exactly what I need to forget everything else.

Chapter Six

Stella

God, what am I doing?

It’s sheer insanity and I know it. But I’m in too deep to back out now. And damn it, I don’t want to.

The maitre d’ sweeps forward as we enter, bowing slightly to my companion. No names exchanged, just a subtle nod of recognition. I try not to fidget with my clutch as we follow him past tables of Los Angeles elite dining under sparkling crystal chandeliers.

“Your usual table, sir,” the maitre d’ murmurs, leading us to a secluded alcove with plush velvet seating and ornate wood paneling.

I slide into the curved booth, hyperaware of how my companion’s presence fills the space. The lighting here is softer, more intimate than the main dining room. Fresh orchids grace the table, their delicate petals catching the warm glow.

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