“I just flew to this Godforsaken place from Los Angeles and I’d like to see my fiancé. Sooner rather than later if that’s all right with you.”

Dr. Ramirez took the electronic tablet from Celeste, the one Stella knew probably had Van’s short list of approved visitors on it. He cleared his throat, glancing at the tablet and then at the woman growing increasingly fidgety by the second. She adjusted and readjusted the multiple metal bangles on her wrist as she waited for Dr. Ramirez to respond.

“I understand. And while I’m sure it’s simply an oversight, your name isn’t on Mr. Walker’s approved list of visitors. And even if it were, this is Wednesday, and visiting day is Sunday. I realize you’ve made quite the long trip. We can provide you with a list of local hotel accommodations if needed.”

Vanessa’s eyes narrowed at the man. Stella half-expected him to begin melting under her angry glare.

“He probably assumed I wouldn’t come since it’s so far from where we live. Hence why he left me off his list. But I can assure you, if he knew I was here, he’d want to see me.” So abruptly Stella almost missed it, the woman flashed her left hand, which, sure enough, held a sizable diamond ring on her finger.

Stella Jo cursed herself under her breath. How could she have been so stupid? He was engaged and planning to entertain himself by screwing around while he was here before heading back to reality and his soon-to-be wife.

She could hardly even begin to guess what Van Ransom would even want with her when he had this punk-rock supermodel waiting at home. She felt extremely bland in her black dress pants and vanilla-colored silk shirt. How dull she must look compared to this bold, louder-than-life person. If she wasn’t mistaken, the thin girl had surgically enhanced breasts. Easily two cup sizes larger than hers. Not that she was comparing or anything.

She would look right at home on Van’s arm. The perfect wife of a rock star. Stella would look like his publicist.

Forcing herself to swallow over the constricting lump in her throat, she nodded to Dr. Ramirez and shot a ‘good luck’ half-smile at Celeste before walking out the door.

She left her fantasy of breaking the rules with Van Ransom in the lobby with his fiancée.

“Mr. Ransom,” a male voice said as the door to his room opened slowly.

“Come on in,” Van called out from his couch.

His manager sat on the other end of the small sofa, and once the tall, Hispanic doctor entered, the room was sufficiently cramped. Van was looking forward to hitting his thirty days and getting moved to a private residence more every day.

The main reason for his impatience taunted him in his head. Her laugh, her lips, the beautiful hesitant smiles.

Whenever he caught glimpses of her in passing, she wasn’t typically smiling. But he’d consistently found ways to bring that sexy shade of pink to her cheeks and curve that luscious mouth of hers.

Those smiles belonged to him, and he treasured each and every one of them.

“Van? Did you hear what Dr. Ramirez just said?” His manager’s question pulled him reluctantly from a quickly forming fantasy about the many ways he wanted to feel her mouth on him.

“Sorry.” He shook his head as if that could even begin to clear the vivid images from his head. She was so ingrained in his mind that he caught the faintest hint of her sweet wildflower scent. He was fucking losing it. Once and for all. “Long day. What can I do for you, Dr. Ramirez?”

Glancing up, he noticed that the man looked kind of strange. His brow was creased, and he closed the door gently behind him.

“Mr. Walker, please know that we do our best to protect your privacy and respect your wishes.”

Van glanced at Sid, who shrugged. Clearly Van wasn’t the only one who didn’t have a clue what the man was talking about. He sincerely hoped it wasn’t anything to do with Stella. Unless the man was giving them his blessing, which he highly doubted.

“Okay. Thanks. I appreciate that,” he said, because what else was there to say?

The doctor cleared his throat. Loudly. “That being said, some instances simply can’t be avoided. Which is why you have an approved list of visitors that we adhere to strictly.”

“Yes, sir. I understand,” he said, nodding for him to continue. Van wasn’t sure where this was going, but judging from the way the man’s shoulders sagged, it wasn’t anyplace good.

“Unfortunately, if someone, say, a fiancée, wanted to make a surprise visit, this would become problematic for a multitude of reasons because—”

“Wait, what? Whose fiancée? I don’t have a fiancée.” Van stood, suddenly feeling dangerously claustrophobic in the tiny room. The gears in his brain began whirring so loudly he could barely hear his manager telling him to calm down as he advanced on the doctor. “I have an ex-fiancée, but I made it perfectly clear that she was to be removed from my list. I informed a care coordinator myself.”

Dr. Ramirez placed his hands up, his palms facing Van as if to hold him off should he launch a physical attack.

“I understand. And when Miss Chandler paged me, she explained that Miss Reeves had in fact been removed from your list per your request.”

Motherfucking son of a crazy-ass bitch.

Vanessa had found him and had likely spouted her delusional bullshit all over everyone. Everyone including Stella Jo Chandler apparently.

The image forming in his mind—Vanessa storming into SCR, throwing a hissy fit of her usual brand, and saying who the hell knew what in front of Stella—made him feel sick. He knew how far Vanessa’s delusions went. There had been times when she’d gotten so high she’d sworn she’d had detailed in-depth conversations with Val after she’d been dead for years.

Clearly she’d announced herself as his fiancée even though they’d only been engaged for a few months and that was over a year ago.

His heart pumped harder as it sank in that Vanessa might’ve destroyed every ounce of progress he’d made with Stella Jo Chandler.

“So the situation is handled then?” Sid asked.

Van had missed everything the two men had said except that. He was pretty sure the doctor confirmed that it was.

The fuck it was. Checking his watch, he saw that it was nearly seven. If Stella Jo was down at the barn convincing herself he had a fiancée, what did she think about everything he’d told her? About their brief time together? It was too fucking brief. He wasn’t done. Hell, he hadn’t even started. But he knew how stubborn she was. How little patience and tolerance she had for games and lies.

“I have to go,” he announced abruptly.

“Van, it’s handled. Just because she knows you’re here doesn’t mean she’ll—”

“No, I mean, I need to run down to the barn,” Van said, interrupting his manager. “I’ve been helping out down there and I just remembered I was supposed to handle a few things.”

Number one thing he wanted to handle was reassuring a certain beautiful brunette that he wasn’t engaged to a fucking lunatic. At least, not anymore.

Dr. Ramirez opened the door and nodded. “Well, crisis averted. I’m glad we didn’t offend someone dear to you. That would be the last thing we would want to do.”

Except they had. Or Vanessa probably had. Van nodded and forced out a breath. “Yeah. No harm, no foul.”

He wanted to trample the damn doctor to get him out of the way. But when brown eyes met his, Van was struck with a worrisome thought. Could this man possibly know that he was just heading down to the barn for Stella? No. No one could possibly know anything. There wasn’t much of anything to know. Yet. But he wanted to change that as soon as humanly possible.

“Please let us know if there’s anything else we can do for you, Mr. Walker,” Dr. Ramirez said as he lingered in the doorway.