Chapter One
Fame wasn’t all itwas cracked up to be.
Okay, so technically, Chloe Giordano wasn’t “famous,” although the ten-million follower milestone she’d just passed suggested otherwise.Ten.Million.The number sat heavily on her shoulders.It felt too big and unmanageable.Ten million sets of eyes.Ten million potential strangers who knew her face better than some people in her own family.The number blew her mind.
When she’d started her workout program three years ago, she’d imagined something small and manageable.A quiet little corner of the internet where she could teach and stay busy.Maybe pay her rent without crying.Instead, it had erupted, climbing skyward like Jack’s famed beanstalk on steroids.Her portfolio included over four hundred videos now: weights, cardio, circuits, HIIT, kettlebells, booty bands, all of it.She had entire training programs and millions of views.An audience that didn’t just watch her, they followed her.Expected her.Neededher.It was flattering right up until it felt suffocating.
Her free videos would stay up, but her shiny new platform had launched quietly and exploded loudly with exclusive content and a clean interface, not to mention a subscription fee that still made her sweat.Millions had signed up before she’d even opened the doors.She told herself it was success.And it was.But somewhere beneath the achievements and sponsorships and the licensing deal she’d landed for her clothing line, something else unwelcome had begun to creep in: attention.
The wrong kind.
Despite her attempts to have someone recognizable wear her designs in the national commercial, the company had insisted it be her.They said she was relatable, authentic, and approachable.She’d caved to their wishes and shot the promos, and a few days ago, it’d gone national.As soon as it hit the airwaves, her popularity skyrocketed.She even had her very own stalker.Yay, her.
Chloe had gone from unemployed to a household name in fitness.She’d even bought the gym where she used to work.She should’ve felt untouchable, yet her hands trembled as she held the printed photo someone had taken from her website.Her smiling face was scratched out in vicious strokes of black ink.Across her stomach, in jagged red letters:die bitch.
Her heartbeat flickered unevenly, as if trying to decide whether to race or stop all together.
“What the hell is that?”
Chloe had learned how to swallow reactions, so she didn’t jump, but the picture crinkled slightly in her grip as she turned.Leo stood in the doorway, broad-shouldered and furious in that quiet, controlled way he had.He was technically her cousin, but her brother in every way that mattered.The one person besides his parents who’d never abandoned her, never chosen someone else over her.
He’d been there when her father had left, when her mother had died, when the world felt as if it had emptied out all at once.Leo had been there the day she’d moved into his house, a six-year-old with too-big eyes and silence where laughter should’ve been.He’d taken one look at her and made her his responsibility.
Her father hadn’t fought for her.He’d had a new wife, a secret daughter, and a whole other life tucked behind the marriage he’d abandoned long before he physically left.He’d told Chloe he wanted her to live with him, but his wife had said no, so her aunt’s family had stepped up and loved her without conditions.
Now Leo was an agent—heragent—and her lawyer, managing the chaos of her career as if he’d been training for it all his life.And he was the only person who seemed to understand the danger she kept pretending wasn’t creeping closer.
Chloe lifted the paper, trying for casual and missing by a mile.“Oh, this?It’s nothing.”
Leo was across the room before she could blink.He ripped it out of her hand, his jaw tightening as he read it.“The hell it isn’t.This is a threat.”
“Leo, don’t be so dramatic.”
He looked up, and the worry in his eyes punched the air right out of her.“Chloe, don’t be so gullible.”His voice was low and restrained, and she could tell he was trying not to shout at her.“After the psycho they caught outside your apartment last week, you should be taking this seriously.”
“Don’t call him that,” she snapped, then immediately softened.“He has mental health issues.”
“I don’t give a damn what he has.”Leo stepped closer, the picture trembling slightly in his hand.“He tried to grab you.”He jabbed at the page.“This means someone else is paying attention.They might not be harmless.”
Fear knotted her gut.She hated that he was right.Acknowledging it made the threat real.“Leo, you worry too much.”
