Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
Zane
T he useless schmoozing bores me, and all I can think about is how much Stella would hate this. Everyone is so fake, so in it for themselves. How much bigger their diamonds are, how much more loaded they are. Of course, Black Enterprises beats us all, but only because a lot of their money comes from black market arms deals.
It’s creeping toward nine o’clock, and my stomach growls. I wish we’d eat soon, but the party’s still going strong. No one’s rushing the time away but me. The mayor’s on his way to getting shitfaced, and he started following Clayton around like a puppy. Clayton grew annoyed with it quickly, hoisting Huxley off onto whoever happened to join their conversation. Then Clayton would find someone else to speak to, and it starts all over again. It’s rather comical.
I get my own share of people trying to kiss my ass, irritating the hell out of me, but Nat glows brighter and brighter with every woman who joins her group and every flute of champagne she drinks. She loves this, and I truly believe without the abuse, Nathalie would have been happy to remain Ash’s employee.
Earlier, Nora Guthrie poked her head into the ballroom and Ash dumped the blonde he was parading around the room and glued himself to her side, much to the blonde’s chagrin. Nora doesn’t mind his arm tightly wrapped around her waist, not letting even an inch of space between them, and she occasionally rests her head on his shoulder. It’s interesting to see him hanging on her when it’s always been the other way around. It’s too bad he won’t be free long enough to pursue a relationship with her. I think they could have been a good match in different circumstances.
I give Nathalie the eye, and she excuses herself to use the phone. We went over this. If she said she was going to the bathroom, her new friends wouldn’t let her go alone, and she needs the privacy. We’re hoping Huxley follows her out of the ballroom, and the jackass doesn’t disappoint.
There’s a lounging area near the elevator bank at the end of the corridor, but Clayton didn’t wait to rake that PI over the coals and he never reached the couches and coffee tables.
Nat has barely enough time to perch on a sofa and kick off her heels before Huxley approaches her.
He sits beside her, his heavy frame sinking into the cushion, and I lower to my haunches near a trash can. I’m close enough to hear what they’re saying but far enough away they won’t notice me unless I sneeze.
The mayor was so keen on having Nathalie alone he never looked behind himself, never looked to see if anyone was watching him. The stupid fool.
I should be safe here, for a few minutes.
“Nathalie, honey, what are you doing?” Huxley asks, and his voice grates on my nerves. Whiny, nasally.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she says, and I can picture her lifting her chin like she does whenever I’m questioning her behavior.
“Marrying that prick,” he says.
“He’s a rich prick,” she says in return, and I know she means it.
“So what? Didn’t I give you everything you said you wanted?”
“When you call out your daughter’s name while you come?” Disdain drips from Nat’s voice.
“We all have our faults,” Huxley mutters, low, and I almost didn’t catch it. “I paid you what you’re worth and then some.”
“Money Ash claimed as his due,” Nathalie reminds him. I don’t know how much her jobs paid or how much of that she was allowed to keep. She never told me, and I never asked. I wonder how much Ash paid her to fuck me.
“I always gave you a little extra.”
“What do you want me to do, Hux?” She says her nickname for him and I blanch. Maybe she likes this creep. “Zane’s pulling me out of the business. You think I like spreading my legs for cash?”
“I thought you loved me, baby,” he whispers.
I peer around the trash receptacle. Nat chose a blue and silver floral brocade couch tucked in a corner made of floor-to-ceiling windows and they don’t see me. Huxley scoots closer, his reflection glinting in the glass. He rests his arm on the back of the cushion and brushes his fingers over her shoulder. He’s ballsy. Anyone could walk down the hallway and catch them.
“I do, but you have to understand, I gotta look out for myself. Ash don’t take kindly to women who get old, and when some fresh new thing hires on, you won’t want me either. Admit it.” An accent I never heard before filters into her speech. It tags her as growing up in one of the poor sections of King’s Crossing. I hope she’s not scared. She doesn’t have to be.
“I won’t say any such thing. Let me take care of you. I’ll set you up in a little apartment and you can have an allowance.”
“Until your wife finds out, you mean.” Nathalie pouts. She sounds sincere. They might have had this conversation before. “Besides, Ash would never let me do that. You know Zane can only marry me because he and Ash are friends.”
“Black respects me. He’ll give you to me if I ask.”
“Ha! You think pretty highly of yourself.”
“Why not? I’ve been doing what they’ve told me to for years. You think Maddox can do whatever he wants in King’s Crossing? Think again. They owe me a favor. More than one.”
“And you’re going to cash one in on me? I don’t believe that.”
I don’t, either. If Huxley managed to secure any favors from the Blacks, he wouldn’t waste one on a whore, no matter how pretty she is or how good a fuck.
There’s only silence, and I peer around the receptacle again. Huxley slipped his hand inside Nat’s dress, and he’s caressing her breast and nipping at her bottom lip with his teeth. Her hand rests on his thigh.
She moans, and the sound carries to me.
I press my back to the wall. I’m going to need to leave soon to beat them back to the ballroom.
“I can’t do this,” Nat says, her voice shaky. “I love Zane, in my own way. He was the only job who was nice to me.”
“You don’t mean that, baby,” Huxley says.
“Yeah, I do. He never hit me, Hux. Not once.”
“Stress made me do it. A man in my position, I’m under pressure every single day, people breathing down my neck every fucking second. It was only a couple of times, and I paid you good after, didn’t I? Kissed away the owies.”
“Zane only hurts me the good way.”
“I can too, I promise. Just one more night. I wanna fuck you so bad, feel how hard I get just thinking about it.”
“Hux . . .”
“One more. Say you want a ladies’ night out. Zane doesn’t keep you locked up, does he?”
“No, but . . .”
“I’ll pay you ten times your rate.”
Nat laughs. “You think I need your money now?”
“How about for old times’ sake, then? I’ll leave you alone after that, I swear.”
“What if I say no?”
“Maddox doesn’t really know what you did for Black does he? Maybe he thinks you were a cocktail waitress at the club, or if you were kind of honest you told him you were a stripper. Would Maddox like it if he found out you fucked your way to the top?”
“Hardly the top.” She scoffs.
“You fucked your way somewhere, baby.”
She whimpers. “You wouldn’t tell him, would you? He wouldn’t marry me if he knew.”
“Just give me one more night, and I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“One more time, that’s it, Hux.”
“God, your tits are sensational. If I wasn’t afraid we’d get caught, I’d tittie fuck you right here.”
“You’re insatiable, Mayor Huxley,” she coos.
“Only you make me that way honey. Tomorrow night, you tell Maddox you’re having a ladies’ night. Meet me at the Black Cat, our usual. I’ll treat you right, one last time.”
“I’m gonna miss you, Hux.”
“If he doesn’t play nice, you come to me, huh?”
“Yeah. I better get back in there. He might be looking for me.”
“Another kiss, then I’m gonna visit the little boys’ room and do something about this stiffy you gave me.”
Nathalie giggles.
They fall quiet, and I inch down the hallway. She did a great job, and I owe her for letting that creep grope her. I want her free of that lifestyle. I only hope she has the smarts to take what I offer.
Clayton avoids me for the rest of the night. I don’t mind, and I don’t seek him out, either.
Nora and Ash cling to each other in a way I find irritating and puzzling. I guess even a powerful woman like Nora can fall prey to a handsome, rich man in a tux.
During dinner, Nathalie sits so close to me our arms brush, but the only clue she’s nervous is her hand trembling whenever she lifts her glass of wine to her lips. The way Huxley slobbered all over her was disgusting, and I drink copious amounts of the merlot to keep the visual from twisting my stomach.
Maybe what Nathalie said is true. Maybe I’m her only job who treated her with any amount of kindness and respect. Maybe I’m her only job who didn’t hit her, but it doesn’t excuse me for using her in the first place and I’m ashamed I didn’t care enough to ask what she did or where she went when we weren’t together.
I let my parents’ deaths destroy me, Stella’s alleged betrayal ravage me, and Zarah’s mental break shred me, and I turned into a man I can’t look at in the mirror. How am I supposed to believe that when Stella looks at me, she sees a man she can admire, sees a man she wants to build a future with? Using Nathalie, unfortunately, is the lesser of my crimes.
Between the main course and dessert, I stand and clink a butter knife against my water glass, and the guests quiet their conversations to a low murmur. No one has stood up to say anything, but I didn’t expect Ash or Clayton to like they did at the Lyndhurst. They don’t support me...they don’t want anything to do with me. They’d just as soon kill me as stand here and congratulate me for being engaged to a whore Ash can no longer use to pad his bank account.
I slip my hand into my pocket and palm the small ring box there. I won’t feel guilty doing this. I won’t let myself. This kind of proposal isn’t what Stella would want anyway. She’d want quiet promises in the dark, under the stars. The wind blowing over an open prairie mingling with our whispers, soft grass under our feet. She’d want the scent of wildflowers tickling our noses, and nothing between us but our love for each other. I’m going to have to think long and hard about what I want to do with Maddox Industries. Stella has little patience for this kind of life, and as I get to know her all over again, the clearer and clearer it becomes that I can’t have both.
I turn and address the people sitting at the tables behind me.“Thank you for coming tonight to celebrate the happiness Nathalie and I have found. I’m not stupid. I know you’ve followed what’s happened to me in the past five and a half years. My parents’ deaths. My girlfriend and executive assistant, Stella Mayfair, running off with Sergio Cardello. My sister’s breakdown. I was met with blow after blow until I felt I was barely alive, and do you know who saved me? My best friend, Ash. He knew what I needed, and he gave it to me, introducing me to Nat. She was there during the most horrendous days of my life. I took my anger and fear out on her, but through my emotional storms, she stood by me and gave me something to live for. So, of course, I knew I needed to make her a permanent part of my life. Nathalie, will you stand up, sweetheart?”
She places her napkin on the table, stands, and rests her head against my shoulder. We’re the perfect couple. Happy. Forever.
“In all the craziness, I never asked Nathalie to officially be my wife.”
I drop down to one knee.
Nat plays her part well. She holds her hands to her cheeks and starts to cry.
“Nathalie Barton, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” I open the box and a three carat diamond set on a platinum band twinkles against the midnight blue velvet. It’s not as large as the one Ash gave my sister, but our engagement is a farce and I’m not giving Nat a diamond the size of a golf ball. It holds no sentimental value, and all she’s going to do is pawn it.
“Yes,” she cries, and she sinks to her knees and kisses me. I twist my fingers in her hair and hug her, pretending there is nowhere else on this earth I’d rather be than here in this moment. I slide the ring onto her finger, swallowing a ball of fire. Wrong woman. Wrong time. Wrong place. Wrong life.
Amidst polite, subdued applause—and not surprisingly, several glares from Huxley and a few others who were probably also Nat’s clients—I help her stand and grin, hoping she left a smear lipstick behind. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I say, “You know that I met Nathalie through Ash. The gossip rags claim she held a position at Ladies and Gentlemen, and that’s true. I’ve been told that I can do better.” Nathalie stiffens and I kiss her cheek. “I’ve been told not to marry down, but how can I think in those terms when I know she rescued me? How can I put a label on our relationship when what we have is so much more than what she used to do to earn a living? We are not the sum of our parts—what we are is limitless. Thank you for coming tonight, and a sincere and heartfelt thanks to Ash and Clayton Black for hosting this wonderful evening.”
Clayton and Ash stand and slap me on the back, shaking my hand, and Willow, Clayton’s wife, smiles. She tilts her head, assessing me, and a shiver runs down my spine. Willow let Stella escape. I wonder what Willow knows or if she believes everything reported in the news. By the shrewd look on her face, I’m willing to bet not. I hope she can see what’s coming, because I can’t warn her. I don’t know how loyal she is to her husband and son, and I won’t risk anyone on our team, or our mission, to find out.
The waitstaff serves dessert, and I step onto the balcony needing space and a moment to myself. The sultry air is just as oppressive as the air indoors, and leaning against the balustrade, I rub my face.
The Crowne is dark, as it should be. The first time I saw how empty it looked after Mel and the others moved in, I almost had a heart attack. I thought everyone left me, decided what we were doing wasn’t worth it. Then I forced myself to breathe and calm down. We don’t want the light to attract attention, and we keep the blackout curtains closed at night. The only lights I can see are the lights shimmering in the swimming pool.
What’s Stella doing now? Is she playing cards with Mel and Denton, or meandering the hallways with Zarah, or are she and Max planning their trip? I can’t let jealousy get the better of me, but I hate the thought of her traveling, having experiences and adventures with another man.
“You miss her, don’t you?” Nat asks, coming up and standing beside me. She lays her forearms on the concrete railing that keeps us from plunging to our deaths. The wind teases her hair and tugs at the skirt of her dress.
“Yeah. Thank you for what you let Huxley do to you. I know letting him put his hands on you wasn’t pleasant.”
“It wasn’t anything he hasn’t done before. He’s a creep and a slimeball, but he doesn’t lie. He did pay me well—it’s not his fault Ash keeps most of it to force us to work and to squish us under his heel. I know some of the women on Fischer Boulevard. They’d trade the street any day to have what Ash gives his girls.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t do more before now.”
She sighs. “I want to hate you for that. I want to hate Ash. I’m scared of what we’re going to do to him and Clayton. When my friend introduced me to him, it sounded like a good way to help my mom. He gave me what I needed, and her last months were comfortable and she passed away in peace. That was important to me. I had no one else.”
“He should have let you go when you wanted out.”
“That’s not the way it works.”
I rest my hand on the nape of her neck and her skin is warm and soft under my palm. “Maybe, but you shouldn’t have needed to do it at all.”
She knocks my hand off her and steps to the side. “You never cared, Zane. You didn’t ask about my family, or where I worked, if I enjoyed any hobbies. We never left King’s Crossing, and you didn’t ask if I wanted to, either. You didn’t ask why I was always available when you needed a pity fuck. I was nothing but a hole, someplace you could shove your dick. You could have gotten me out of this a long time ago.”
“You’re right, but you’re also wrong. I grew fond of you, and I care about you. Once Ash and Clayton are behind bars, I’ll see to it you will never need anything for the rest of your life.”
Nat sniffs and a bitter laugh bubbles from her throat. “You rich people are all alike, you know that? Think you can throw money at a problem and everything is going to be okay. I spread my legs for seven years. Seven years they used me, hit me, shove things into my body in the name of love, passion, desire, and power. Seven years I haven’t lived my own life. You think that after this is over you’re just gonna hand me a couple million, tell me to shut up and have a nice life, and that’s going to be it? Is that what you think you’re going to do with Stella? She lost five years to that asshole. Ash is a piece of shit, and I’ll be glad to pay him back, but just because in the end you win, don’t you dare think you don’t have responsibility, that you don’t have blame. All you had to do was ask a couple of the right questions to the right people, but you didn’t want to see what was going on around you. People paid for that. You didn’t love her enough to fucking find her and ask her why she would leave you, and Stella paid for that.”
She presses her lips to mine and wraps her arms around my neck. We’re supposed to be a couple in love, and I hold her and slip my tongue in her mouth. She breaks the kiss and whispers into my ear, “I fucking hate you, and I wish she did too.” Pushing me away, she opens the door and steps into the ballroom, the sound of faint conversation drifting out to the terrace in her wake.
I try to catch my breath. I feel like when I was a kid and Ash and I would play tag. He’d trip me to slow me down and I would crash onto my stomach, the wind knocking out of me so hard I couldn’t breathe.
I grapple with what she told me, what she accused me of. Did I think throwing money at this would make it go away? Maybe I did. She certainly knew my plan toward her—pay her off and hope I never had to hear from her again while I went on my happily ever after with Stella.
Stella could have warned me that the man I am now isn’t enough for her. She could have told me she doesn’t believe I love her, but how can she think that when there are mornings I wake up buried so deeply inside her I don’t know who I am without her? Could she give herself so willingly at the same time thinking that after this is finished we’d never see each other again?
I refuse to believe that. If she were any other woman, I would, but Stella doesn’t have it in her to deal in such duplicity. She’s too honest to play games. She’s told me she’s having trouble seeing past my mistakes, and that’s something she’s never hidden from me. We’ve also talked about babies and being a family, and I believe those conversations were real. Those feelings are real.
I inhale a deep breath of humid air and step inside the ballroom. I want to go home.
Nat’s graciously accepting congratulations and saying goodnight to people who are leaving. Ash and Clayton are standing near her, shaking hands and planning last-minute tee times. Clayton meets my gaze across the room and nods. There’s no love lost between us. We’re going to have to be a little more careful now that I revealed some of the cards in my hand. Clayton can only guess at the ones I have left. He’ll be nervous, but I have a perfect poker face and know exactly the next card I need to play.
Nat and I go down to the lobby alone, and the valet retrieves my car. I open the door for her myself, and she brushes her lips over mine in case anyone is watching. Always playing until the very last second.
“I’m sorry about what I said,” she says, twisting the ring on her left hand.
“It’s okay. You haven’t said anything Stella hasn’t said a million times. I was blind and trusted Ash. I’m a different person now, and the important thing is we all work together and stop what he’s doing so we can move on in peace. In whatever way that means. I’m not going to cut you off or throw you out like you’re a bag of trash. I care about you, and I care about what happens to you.”
She lifts my hand off the gearstick and kisses my knuckles. “You’re a good guy. I get swept up in the past.”
“The past that would still be your present if things hadn’t changed.”
“You mean if Stella hadn’t come back.” She drops my hand in disgust.
“She found the courage to escape Ash and it made me realize a lot of things.”
Nat glares. “She should never have been in that position to begin with.”
We’re silent the rest of the way to the penthouse.