Chapter Sixteen
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Zane
I hate spending so much time away from Stella. I know how scared and uncertain she must feel, and you’re probably thinking I’m a real son of a bitch for making her go through these empty days alone, but I have good reason, trust me on this.
Zarah handled Max’s death better than I thought she would. Better than I did. A sad smile. A few tears. She loved him, and she’ll miss him, like we all will.
I called Lucille and told her it was safe to come back to the city, and the woman’s stable presence in the penthouse made a world of difference. Dr. Reagan slightly adjusted Zarah’s meds, and because of that, Lucille being home, and Ingrid working with her, she floats closer to the surface every day.
On a dreary morning that feels like all the others, Mel calls and says Banks gave her permission to leave, and she stops at the penthouse to tell Zarah and me goodbye. I invite her in, and we have coffee before Douglas drives her to the airport. She returned her rental a long time ago.
She sits on the couch, but I’m too restless and pace the floor.
“What have you been doing? Everyone’s been asking about you.”
I sent Zarah into the kitchen so that Mel and I could speak privately, and I’m able to answer her honestly. “Digging through the shit Ash left behind. Nothing he and his father did was legal. Even their foundations were used to cheat people, launder money, and fund their personal agendas.”
“Can’t you do that at the Crowne? Stella needs you. She cries when she thinks no one’s around to hear her. She’s scared. I offered to bring her back to Cali—”
“No!” I shout, jerking in her direction. I lower my voice. “No.”
She sighs in frustration. “Then you need to do something. Quinn’s encouraging her to go to New York, but I can see it on her face she doesn’t want to go. Now that Richard has access to his money, he’s taking off. He wants Stella and Quinn to go with him.”
“I have been doing something,” I murmur and lean tiredly against the window that overlooks King’s Crossing.
“Then you need to let her in on your plans or she’s going to leave.”
“She’s going to leave anyway. I’m helping her do it, that’s all.”
Lifting her chin, she says, “You love each other too much. You’ll get through this. Just like you’ve gotten through everything else. You’re practically indestructible.”
I’d like to think so, but no couple is. Not even us.
“Mel.” I draw in a deep breath through my nose and slowly let it out of my mouth. “What’s the one thing in all the world Stella wants?”
“That’s easy. You.”
I shake my head. “No. Think. What do you know about her? What’s the one thing she’s grown up without?”
Understanding lights in her eyes. “Family.”
“Yes. I’ve been putting off seeing her because I’m going to lose her, Mel. I’m going to lose her because in the days I’ve been digging through Ash’s fucked up shit, I’ve found the one thing Stella will love more than me. I found her family.”
That was a couple of days ago. I asked Mel to call Stella and tell her I needed a little more time. I needed all the facts or she wouldn’t believe me. Banks helped me gather the information, and armed with a file that burns hot in my hand, I drive to the Crowne and park in the staff parking lot.
I rest my forehead against the steering wheel of the SUV and pray for strength. Every time I think I’m going to do the hardest thing of my life, Fate manages to throw me another curveball, harder, faster, than the one before. Bruised and bloody, I refuse to go down without a fight.
I have one last swing, and I’ll try to give as good as I get.
Max’s suite is empty. I should have asked Mel to box up Max’s belongings for his brother. Now that task will fall to me, but maybe that’s not so bad. His brother will hate me along with everyone else, but I’d like to express my condolences in person.
Shaking those thoughts out of my head, I find Stella in the room she and Quinn have been sharing. A suitcase lays open on the bed, and clothes are scattered everywhere. I guess when Mel told her I needed a couple more days, that’s all Stella was going to give me. My heart bangs painfully under my ribs.
Pound. Crack. Pound. Crack.
Fuck.
Stella meets my gaze, and exhaustion and despair shadow her eyes. The news destroyed me, but maybe Stella can finally find the happiness she deserves.
“Can I talk to you a minute?” I ask.
“You’re a son of a bitch,” Quinn interrupts, standing in the bathroom’s doorway holding a brush, her lips set in a thin line. “Where the fuck have you been? What the fuck has been so important that you didn’t call her yourself and explain—”
“Quinn,” Stella says sharply.
She sucks in a deep breath, quivering with rage. “Another hour, and we would have been gone.”
Stella squeezes Quinn’s hand. “It’s okay. He’s here now. It’s better to say goodbye. It’s always better to say goodbye. You know that. I’ll be right back.”
She joins me at the door, staring at the floor, and we walk to the Honeymoon Suite. I can’t talk to her in Max’s room. I’m not ready to face those memories.
I let the door lock behind us. The curtains are closed, and sunlight bleeds around the edges. Enough that I can see the outline of her face.
“Stella—” I start to apologize, but she throws herself into my arms and crushes her lips to mine. I devour her greedily, hungrily. All the time in the world won’t be enough.
Tugging her hair, I tilt her head and push my tongue into her mouth. She tastes sweet, and I lap at her as she consumes me. I’m hard in a second, and I walk her to the bed, laying her gently on her back. I nestle between her legs, her cleft cradling my cock, and she wraps her arms around my neck. Her cast is bulky between us, but I don’t care. I press into her welcoming body, her thin pajama bottoms only a thin barrier to what’s underneath.
Familiar scents surround her—coffee, sleep, and love. She tilts her hips offering herself to me, and I fall desperately into our kisses.
“Do you want—”
“Yes,” she interrupts me, “yes.”
I brush my lips down her jaw, over the delicate skin of her neck. Slow, easy. This will be the last time I have her and I need to enjoy it, savor it, store it. I need it to last for the rest of my life. I lick at her collarbone, and she laughs, relief I’m back coming out in the breathy giggles.
It humbles me I can make her happy. No matter how few seconds that may be.
Pulling the strap of her tank top down, I kiss my way to her breast, her skin soft and sweet. I tease her nipple with my tongue, suckle on the tender flesh. She gasps even as she presses my head closer, encouraging me. I pull the other side of her top down and tease her other nipple, pinching at the hardened tip with my teeth. “Didn’t want this one to feel left out.”
“Zane,” Stella laughs, “I need you.”
“I’m here, baby. Slow. We gotta go slow.” I ease off her and nudge her to a sitting position. I tug the tank top over her head. “You’re so beautiful,” I say, rubbing the pad of my thumb over her jaw. “No one is more beautiful, kind, or compassionate as you.”
“That’s not true, but I’m glad you think so,” she says, unknotting my tie. She wraps the ends around her hands to pull me closer. It always turns me on whenever she does that. Pushing her lips to mine, she unbuttons my dress shirt.
I’m not sure what I was thinking when I dressed this morning. Maybe I thought this would be an easy, simple business transaction. An exchange of information. But nothing concerning Stella will ever be easy, and nothing concerning Stella will ever be simply business.
As her hand smooths over my skin, I inhale a ragged breath. Her touch has always affected me like that. Even the first night I met her and she sat next to me on the couch, electricity and awareness buzzed around us.
I take my shirt off and drop it onto the floor. Stella reaches for my belt, but I say, “Finish getting undressed.”
She does what I say, sliding off the bed and pushing her panties and pajama bottoms over her perky ass and slim thighs.
My mouth dries looking at her. Sometimes I wonder how this perfect angel was made for me, and then I remember she wasn’t. I’m only borrowing her until she finds the man she’s truly meant to be with.
Stella draws back the bedspread and climbs into bed.
I finish undressing, leaving my clothes in a heap on the floor. I pull a condom out of my wallet and crawl into bed next to her. After all I found out, I’m so glad Stella and I didn’t have an accident. I lie in bed, and she curls into me, pressing her breasts to my chest.
I kiss her and explore the apex of her thighs. She’s wet and engorged, her clit quivering under my touch. She whimpers.
“Shh, shh. Do you like that, baby?” I ask, gently gliding my finger inside her, getting her ready for me. It’s been a little while, and I want her so hot she’s bursting from anticipation.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “Please.”
I add another finger and thrust my hips, encouraging her to touch me. She wraps both hands around my cock, though her cast limits how tightly she can hold me. My cock sure as hell doesn’t care, and I surge under her touch. I want us to enjoy the foreplay—once I’m inside her, it will be all over.
My fingertips tease her clit, and I play, swirling over the slippery, sensitive nub. I can’t remember feeling her so wet, and I nudge her in the back, delicately feeling her ass. “Do you want me to touch you here?”
“Yes.” She lets go of my cock and wraps her arms around my neck, hooking her leg over my hip to give me access. I wet my forefinger and press into her tight opening.
My cock strains, and I wiggle closer.
Fingering her ass has always turned me on. I have to possess her in all ways possible.
Stella moans into my ear, and I push my finger deeper. Her body is angled against me and the tip of my cock finds her slit. She’s soaked, and I don’t have a condom on yet. “Stella.”
“Don’t say it. I need you, Zane. It’s been too long.”
Eagerly, she increases the pressure, and I slide my finger into her, then pull it out, pumping as she tugs at my hair. The tip of my cock slides inside her, and I know it’s wrong, but I don’t stop.
I skim my fingers over her clit, and the second I do, she pushes herself onto my cock. Forcefully, I shove my finger into her ass, and she comes with a cry. I follow, releasing my load into her tight pussy. Her muscles milk every last drop out of my cock, and I keep my finger inside her ass and thrust, eking out every last second of pleasure I can.
She catches her breath and clings to me, resting her head on my shoulder.
“This might hurt a little,” I say, and slowly, as gently as I can, pull my finger out of her ass. “Are you okay?”
She lifts her head, and her lips graze my cheek. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I missed you, and—”
Without giving her warning, I reverse our position so she’s lying on her back, her head on my pillow.
We’re still connected, though my dick is wilting fast. I cuddle her close to me, sweat slicking our bodies. “I’m sorry, too, and I should have stopped. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out, okay?”
I ease out of her and settle onto my side. Pillow talk right now feels awkward, but I’d rather tell her about this in the dark. I’d rather hide than show her my face when I tell her everything Banks and I found.
“You talked to Mel,” she says, her breath fluttering over my arm.
“Yeah. She stopped by the penthouse to say goodbye to Zarah, and I caught her up on a few things. She told me she offered you a job. Were you thinking about it?”
She links our fingers. “Yeah. I’m going to need to work, and she’ll understand my prior office experience.”
“I told you I would take care of you,” I say, more than a little bitter.
“You haven’t been around. How am I supposed to know what you’re thinking?”
“You’re supposed to trust me. Don’t you trust me?”
She’s quiet, and that’s all the answer I need. I don’t know what I expected. Her undying devotion? Her unwavering faith? A person earns those things, and I haven’t. It doesn’t matter now.
I hug her closer, spooning, my hand splayed over her belly, my arm under her pillow. “What do you want, Stella? If you could have anything. The world at your feet. Money is no object. What do you want?”
“I don’t—”
“I’ll give you whatever you want. You know my intentions...you know I want to marry you. My lifetime, bonded to yours. That’s what I want, but unfortunately, what you want isn’t the same. I’m a grown man, and I can accept that. I’ll never move on, but I can accept it. Tell me what you want and don’t be afraid to hurt me.”
She turns onto her back, and she rests her cast on a pillow. Her fingers skim lightly over my knuckles, and she says, “I don’t want to leave. I love you, and I love Zarah. I want to be there for her, but I don’t want to live this life, Zane. I’m so tired of it.”
I nod. I know what she means, and frankly, I’m tired of this kind of life too and I’ll be happier without it.
“I’d like to live someplace quiet where we can be ourselves without expectations, without worrying about what others think of us. I want to help people, teach our children it’s important to give back. That you can handle anything as long as you have family.” Her voice fades, as if she knows what she’s asking for can never be granted. Not by me.
“What about Quinn?” Her best friend will always be an important part of her life.
“I think, after things settle, King’s Crossing won’t be enough for her, and she’ll let you pay for her to go to school. But until then, she’ll want to be with me. She came when I called and I owe her that.”
“That’s fair.”
Suddenly, I have an idea. The news I have to tell her won’t be any easier to bear, but the fresh air will do us both some good. “Are you tired of the hotel? Wanna get out of here for a while?”
“I would love to.” She presses my hand to her stomach. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. If there’s a spark, Stella, I’ll be the happiest man in the world.”
“I’m glad.” She rolls over and touches her lips to mine. “Where are we going?”
“Someplace special. Someplace where I can talk to you in private. But first...” I reach between her legs, feel the love that I left behind. I slip my fingers inside her, and she moans in agreement.
We make love slowly, and I memorize her every feature, her every sound.
I don’t know why I tortured myself asking about our future. What’s in that file I so nonchalantly threw onto the dresser will ensure that I won’t be sharing any kind of future with her.
What could have been. That’s what these past five years have been about.
What could have been if my parents hadn’t been killed.
What could have been if I wasn’t rich.
What could have been if I hadn’t had such faith in Ash’s friendship.
What could have been if Stella and I were normal people living normal lives.
But we’re not.
We fell in love, and even from prison, Ash is punishing us for it.
We step out of the Crowne and Stella hums in excitement. She grips my hand, closes her eyes, and breathes in a deep lungful of the cool, afternoon air. It won’t be long before it snows, but for now, the weather is perfect for what I have planned. My heart breaks a little, watching her lift her face to the sun.
We walk to the bus stop, our gates easy, almost carefree.
Her worst is over.
Mine has yet to come.
I had to research the route we needed. The bus, the train, another bus. Just like last time. Stella would know the way if I asked, but this is my surprise.
She looks cute in a skirt and loose sweater, the glitter in her cast catching the sunlight, and for once I dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt from the clothing stash I kept in the Honeymoon Suite. A messenger bag bumps at my hip, and we look like a normal couple spending the afternoon together.
Except for the paparazzo who tries to snap our pictures without us seeing. I hope Stella doesn’t notice. It’s the exact thing she’s trying to get away from.
The train is just as I remembered, the working class on the way home after a long day at their jobs. The tired Black woman and her daughter aren’t here. Five years have come and gone. I should have helped them when I had the chance. What could a hundred dollars have done? Two hundred? A thousand? I’ll never know.
Stella’s not stupid, and we’re still miles away from the pumpkin patch when she beams at me.
We get off at the nearest bus stop, and Stella reaches onto her toes to kiss me. I kiss her back, tangling my fingers in her hair.
“You really liked it. I wasn’t sure.”
“You’ll have no idea how much you touched my heart, how much you changed me. How much you helped me heal after my parents’ deaths. Ash robbed us of so much time. I can’t think of where we’d be now if he hadn’t taken you.”
“Then don’t. Only look ahead.”
That’s easy for her to say. My best memories are hidden in the past. I won’t make any new ones.
Not without Stella.
We walk through the festival and it’s déjà vu. The kids yelling and screaming in joy, the parents chasing after them. The food trucks and all they have to offer. The bounce houses, the petting zoo. Nothing has changed, but everything is different.
I wait until we’re settled by the pond and we’ve fed the ducks. Parents start to take their children home and the pumpkin patch quiets, the faint scent of popcorn lingering in the cooling breeze.
Stella leans against me and sighs in contentment. There’s a stillness about her, a peace that wasn’t there before. Ash is behind bars and she doesn’t have to hide anymore. She doesn’t have to look over her shoulder in fear that one of Ash’s hitmen is going to try to kill her because of what she knows.
She watches the ducks glide along the smooth surface of the pond.
“Stella.”
She turns, and the expression on her face shatters me. So much love after everything I’ve done to her.
“You know the FBI is going through all of Ash’s and Clayton’s businesses, their deals, their bank accounts. Everything.”
She nods. “Yeah. I wondered if anything they did was legal.”
“I thought, maybe, their foundations would be off limits, that despite all the bad they were doing, they might have been doing a little good, too.”
“They weren’t, were they? Did you find proof?”
“Yes, we found proof. Max looked into it first after hearing what Huxley said at the Black Cat, and using their resources, the FBI went further.”
“That’s why Clayton didn’t want to work with your dad. He had no idea how to run anything legitimately, nor did he want to, for that matter.”
“No, he didn’t, and with all the shit Clayton was involved in, the Blacks’ foundations were small potatoes, but he still managed to hurt a lot of people.” I hold her hand and brush my thumb over her soft skin.
“I’m sorry, Zane.”
“I’m sorrier, Stella, because what they did affected you, too.”
She frowns. “What do you mean?”
“You know Ash and Clayton ran a foundation that helped couples adopt.”
“Yeah.”
“They supposedly paid adoption fees, even helped match infants in need to prospective parents.”
“I know.”
“The FBI looked closer...Stella, they found some of those babies that were matched with adoptive parents already had biological parents.”
She sits up and twists to look at me. “What do you mean? Of course they did.”
I’m going about this the wrong way. I feel like someone poured concrete into my chest, and my heart is trying to pump while the cement hardens around it.
“What I’m trying to say is, they kidnapped babies and then sold them to people, rich people, who could afford to buy them.”
Stella covers her mouth, and a sheen of tears fills her cornflower blue eyes. She hasn’t pieced two and two together yet. If I stop now, I could keep her. We could fight the world just the two of us, but then I would be living in fear that one day she would discover the truth. That she would know what I did, and in her eyes, I would be no better than Ash.
I suck in a deep breath and force the words out.
“One of those babies was you.”
She pales and yanks away from me. It’s already starting, the withdrawal.
I push back the pain. There will be more where this comes from. I tell myself to get through it and do what I need to do to survive it.
“What are you saying?” she whispers.
I slide the file out of my messenger bag. “Your mother was shopping at the Heritage Mall twenty-six years ago. You were four weeks old, and she brought you out to do some last minute Christmas shopping. In a busy store, she turned her back, and when she checked on you, you were gone. Someone stole you out of your carrier. Clayton Black sold you to a Gwendolyn Mayfair, and she renamed you Stella.”
I copied the newspaper stories Banks found at Black Enterprises. They kept track of every baby they kidnapped to keep ahead of any investigations.
“What happened to her?” she asks calmly, holding the copy of the old clipping.
I slide another photo out of the pile and show her a picture of a woman holding an infant in a hospital room.
She rears back in surprise and pulls the grainy photo from my fingers. “That’s my mother holding me in the hospital after I was born.”
Shaking my head, I say, “That’s what they wanted you to think. This is the woman who bought you, and the infant isn’t you. She had a baby, but her daughter passed away. SIDS. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Grieving, she contacted Clayton Black. A year after she adopted you, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and passed away. Her family was against the whole thing, and after Gwendolyn died, they were afraid to keep you. They let you grow up in foster care because they were scared someone would find out.”
Ash told me just enough of the truth I didn’t think to look for lies.
Tears run down Stella’s cheeks.
I haven’t told her the hard part yet, and I hand her another picture. This one is an informal family shot of a man and woman, a toddler in the mother’s lap, and a newborn baby cradled in the father’s arms. They sit on a couch, the branches of a Christmas tree bordering an edge of the photo.
“This is your family. According to the time stamp on the back, it was taken a couple weeks after Thanksgiving.”
The man looks strong, confident, and proud of his little family. The woman, blonde like Stella, looks tired, but happy. Her eyes match Stella’s delicate blue and the toddler’s sitting on her thighs.
“What are their names?”
I can barely hear her over the wind rustling the leaves in the trees above us. “Your father’s name is Brad, and your mom’s is Monica. Your sister’s name is Adelyn.”
I know what she’s going to ask me next, and I pray against it with all my heart.
It doesn’t work.
“And mine? What is my real name?”
“Jenna. Your full name is Jenna Grace Christianson. You were born on November twenty-fifth, the same day and year as Zarah.”
“Did they look for me?”
I pull out a thin stack of papers from the file. “Yes, they did. For a very long time. This is everything Clayton kept on you. He followed every case to ensure authorities didn’t connect the kidnappings—to each other, or to him. They didn’t kidnap many infants from King’s Crossing. You were only one of a handful over the years, and that’s why Ash knew your name when I introduced you. He didn’t hate you because you were poor. He was scared of you. I suspect someone working for Clayton saw the opportunity in the busy store and took it. Who can resist a beautiful blue-eyed baby girl?”
She skims the stack of pictures and newspaper clippings. Missing posters, fliers. The news articles grow shorter and shorter until Jenna Grace’s kidnapping disappears from the news altogether.
“Are they still alive?”
“Yes. Six years after your kidnapping, they left the area. Brad and Monica said in an interview it was too painful to live in King’s Crossing. Monica, especially, was torn. She wanted to stay in the city in case you were ever found. I guess after six years they thought you never would be, and they moved to Florida. They own a condo near the beach in St. Petersburg.”
“Did Banks tell them they found me?” She can’t stop staring at the family photo.
“Not yet. I wanted to tell you first.”
“She’s beautiful.” She means her mother.
“You look exactly like her.”
“How much did Clayton sell me for?”
“Stella—”
“No. I want to know how much my family’s pain was worth.”
I swallow. “Gwendolyn Mayfair paid two million dollars.”
“Why did she buy me if she knew she was dying?”
“She didn’t know, not then. She thought she’d have a life with you, Stella.”
“That’s not my name.”
Her statement takes me aback. “What?”
She looks at me, her eyes hard. “That’s not my name.”
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else I can say.
“I’m ready to go back.”
Desperately, I grab her arm, but she’s already gone, a sheet of ice covering her eyes, and she won’t look at me. “I love you—”
She jerks away. “Don’t.”
I drop my hand.
The minute Banks told me about Stella, I knew this would happen. I tried to avoid it, hiding at the penthouse, sitting on this file. Because I knew.
Clayton Black destroyed her life, destroyed her family, and in her mind, I’m no better than the Blacks.
The only thing I can do now is let her be. Maybe one day she’ll forgive me.
Until then, all I can do is wait.
Wait for a day that will never come.