TRUST at gunpoint

Chapter 7

Stella’s POV

The next morning, I lay on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling after breakfast, letting my mind wander.

It was calm in the house for once, and I was grateful for the chance to relax while Ava was busy. This peace, however, didn’t last long.

Ava suddenly burst into my room, out of breath, her eyes wide.

"Stella! Christian’s father will be here in an hour!" she said, panicking.

“What?!” I nearly leapt out of bed.

“He was supposed to come tomorrow!” My heart raced as I scrambled to my feet, trying to process what she had just said. This wasn’t part of the plan.

“We don’t have time to talk! Go take a shower now!” Ava urged, practically shoving me toward the bathroom.

I quickly obeyed, taking the fastest shower of my life, barely ten minutes. I threw on a robe and stepped out, where Ava was waiting with another girl who looked like a professional makeup artist.

My black gown lay on the bed, and Ava helped me slip into it. The gown hugged my figure perfectly and had a slight flare below the knees. It was elegant, with thin straps and a delicate shimmer in the fabric that caught the light. I didn’t usually wear things like this, but even I had to admit it looked stunning.

The makeup artist stepped forward, her brushes ready, and quickly worked her magic.

She gave me a smoky eye and subtle nude lipstick that complemented the gown’s sleekness. She left my hair open, styling it in soft waves that framed my face. When I finally looked in the mirror, I almost didn’t recognize myself. I looked… sophisticated, polished.

Ava stepped back and smiled. “You look beautiful, Stella. Really.”

I took a deep breath. I had to admit, seeing myself like this made me feel slightly more confident.

"Thanks, Ava," I murmured, my voice steadier than before.

With only fifteen minutes left until Christian’s father arrived, Christian himself suddenly walked into my room. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt that hugged his broad shoulders, paired with tailored black pants that fit him perfectly.
I finally noticed his tattoos—bold, dark ink winding down each forearm. On his right hand, a large snake coiled from elbow to wrist, its head near his pulse, ready to strike. On his left, intricate patterns ran up his arm, partially hidden by his sleeve. They gave him a more rugged, intimidating look.

His cologne, sharp and slightly musky, filled the room, creating an aura of authority around him. I hated to admit it, but he looked good—really good.

Ava looked at him and nodded approvingly. "She’s ready."

Christian barely looked at me, his expression neutral. "Follow me," he said, his tone cold. He turned and strode out without another glance.

I glanced at Ava, who gave me an encouraging nod. “You’ve got this,” she whispered.

Taking a deep breath, I followed him out of the room to the hallway to the lift. When we stepped out on the second floor, I gasped.

The area was enormous, far more lavish than any part of the house I had seen so far. Ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the polished floors. There was a long hallway with eight doors on either side, each framed with intricate detailing and subtle gold accents.

“This place is… beautiful,” I said, unable to hide my awe.

Christian, who was already a few steps ahead, didn’t respond, but I noticed the slightest hint of a smirk on his face.