Cruel Dreams (King’s Crossing #3)

Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Stella

I don’t know what to do. We ride the bus and the train back to the Crowne. I don’t talk to Zane, don’t touch him, don’t look at him. It’s not right to dump my pain on him, but I have nowhere else to put it.

Alone, I ride the elevator up to our floor. Zane didn’t get on, saying he had to talk to the manager. I can’t blame him for wanting to get away from me, but I’m disappointed he gave up so quickly.

Denton isn’t around, and without Mel and Max, Quinn is the only occupant on the entire floor. She’s sitting in Max’s suite watching the news.

“Finish packing. We’re leaving.”

Quinn whips her gaze to mine, alarmed by my furious tone. I never let myself get mad. “What happened?”

“I don’t want to explain until we’re gone.”

“Did you and Zane have a fight?”

“No.”

It wasn’t a fight, not really.

I hurry into the room Quinn and I have been sharing and start throwing more clothes into the half-full suitcase I used to go to DC with Max. I don’t want to keep anything Mel charged on Zane’s credit card, but once again, I have no choice. I fling in pants, tops, lingerie, anything that will fit. I’ll leave behind the fake IDs Mel and Quinn had made for me.

I’m not Kendra Lovelace. I’m not Stella Mayfair. I’m not Jenna Christianson. I don’t know who the hell I am.

Quinn watches me fly around the room, tossing clothes into my suitcase without paying attention to what I’m packing. I want to be gone before Zane comes upstairs, but she’s moving slower than a turtle.

“Can’t you tell me what’s happening?”

“No. Not now. Hurry up.”

Quinn, who loves clothes more than anything else except me, wants to pack everything and fifteen minutes have passed by the time we’ve cleaned out the room. I probably have clothes in Zane’s room too, but I’m not going in there to look.

I burst through the door, pulling my suitcase behind me, just as Zane steps out of the elevator. Our eyes meet, and his gaze jerks to my suitcase. He hunches his shoulders in defeat.

“Will someone tell me what’s going on?” Quinn demands.

I clip past Zane and punch the Down arrow.

Quinn and Zane speak briefly. I don’t hear what they say, and I don’t care. The lift didn’t go down to the lobby after Zane came up to our floor, and the doors open immediately.

“Quinn,” I snap.

I keep the doors from gliding closed, and she hurries into the elevator, dropping two loaded bags onto the floor.

Zane doesn’t utter a single sound, and I jab the button for the lobby.

We step out of the Crowne and into the evening air, and my steam dissipates. I have no money, no credit, and a cell phone I don’t want to use because it’s the only way Zane can reach me and I don’t want to talk to him right now.

Quinn uses her phone and opens a transportation app. “Where are we going?”

I don’t answer.

“Stella?” she insists. “Where are we going?”

I want to slap her for saying that name, but what else is she supposed to call me? What am I supposed to call myself?

“To my old apartment.” I rattle off the address. Even though Zane owns the building, it’s the only place I can think of that’s mine. Where I belong.

We sit in the back of a spotless SUV in silence, and I don’t let myself look behind me as the Crowne fades away. That part of my life is done.

The driver lets us out in front of my building. The small apartment complex, the grass and the trees in the yard...this tiny haven had been my only home after I aged out of the system. The only place except for Maryanne’s where I had felt safe. I wish I hadn’t let Zane visit me here. Watching TV, eating pizza on the couch, making love in my bed, my eyes devouring him as he dressed for work.

He’s tainted my apartment with happy memories, and his ghost will be everywhere.

Quinn jimmies the front lock and we drag our bags down the hallway. I find the key to the door under the mat and let us in. The door slams shut and Quinn locks it. She jams her hands onto her hips and says, “What the fuck, Stella?”

Without a word, I open my suitcase and pull out the file Zane gave me. I slap it into her hands run into my bedroom. I find a pair of my old pajamas and jerk them on, my heart calming. Something of mine from my old life. It’s small, but it helps.

Someone recently laundered the sheets and bedding, and gratefully, I slide into the familiar bed. Pulling the covers over my head, I pray Quinn will let me be.

She does.

She doesn’t bother me all night.

Maybe Zane knew I’d run here. Maybe he knew how horribly I’d react to the whole thing and knew I’d have nowhere else to go. The kitchen and bathroom are fully stocked with the things Zane knows I like, and the next morning, Quinn’s able to make coffee. The mouth-watering aroma drifts to the bedroom. Ashamed of my temper tantrum, I slink into the kitchen, and she’s scrambling eggs and frying bacon. She didn’t crawl into bed with me—she must have slept on the couch.

She barely glances at me as I fill one of my old chipped mugs. The familiarity of my dishes, the rich coffee, and the fresh half and half are soothing, and the tension seeps out of me.

Quinn plates me eggs and bacon and butters a slice of toast. Whoever shopped thought of everything, but then, that’s the kind of life Zane lives, isn’t it?

The file’s sitting on the table, but I can’t look at it. Because of my hysterics last night, we skipped dinner, and I’m starving. If I think too much about what Zane told me, I won’t be able to eat.

Quinn serves herself and sits next to me at the small table. She has different ideas about our morning conversation, and she pokes her fork at the file. “Can you explain this to me now?”

The bacon turns to dirt in my mouth, but I swallow. “I think it’s all pretty clear,” I say, unwilling to repeat the details Zane told me at the pumpkin patch.

“Zane found your parents.”

“You mean Clayton Black stole my parents.”

“And that’s Zane’s fault?” Quinn asks, ever practical.

“The Blacks and Maddoxes were like this,” I say, holding up a hand, my fingers crossed. Thick as thieves, Maryanne would say, and isn’t that the truth.

“So . . . he’s guilty by association?”

“Something like that,” I mutter.

Who’s to blame isn’t what concerns me.

“What’s next?” she asks softly, reaching across the table and holding my hand.

I push my plate away. I’m not hungry after all. “I don’t know. I’m scared, Quinn.”

“Me, too.”

My eyes lock onto hers. “You are? Why?”

“Of course I am. You’re so selfish, Stella.”

That hurts. “How am I being selfish?”

“Zane gave you everything you’ve ever wanted. I looked through that file. You have a mom and a dad and a sister. Where does that leave me? Where does that leave Zane? Or Zarah? Richard? Your family lives in Florida , Jenna ,” she says, and my stomach heaves. I hate that name. “You’ll go down there, meet your mom and dad, see the sun and the ocean, live your happy little life and forget all about us. Do you have any idea how terrified Zane was when he told you?”

I didn’t. My own fear eclipsed his. “Is that what he said yesterday before we left?”

“No. I didn’t need him to tell me. I could see it on his face, and you could have too, if you would have looked. But you didn’t bother, did you? He loves you, and he knew the second he told you he’d lose you. All you did was prove him right. Selfish.” Quinn pushes away from the table, her chair shrieking against the worn linoleum, and picks up her mug, her hand trembling.

“Come with me,” I beg. I can’t bear the thought of losing her too.

“No. This is your journey, and you have to go on your own. They aren’t my parents, they’re yours.”

“Then I won’t go.” I hadn’t decided if I wanted to meet them. My heart says of course I do, but my head...I’ve been missing for twenty-six years. My birthday’s next month.

Quinn’s eyes widen. “Are you fucking crazy? They’re your parents . You have an older sister, maybe nieces and nephews. Grandparents. Aunts and uncles. You’ve been missing all your life, and you want them to suffer for the rest of theirs? Why?”

I lay my heart on the table, trusting Quinn understands me well enough to at least be sympathetic to my plight. “What if they don’t like me? What if we don’t get along?”

Quinn slips off her chair and kneels at my feet. “Stella—”

“That’s not my name,” I whisper.

“Yes, it is. Your name is Stella Mayfair. You’re a kind, compassionate, strong-as-hell woman, and you should be proud of yourself for who you are and all you’ve accomplished. You helped bring down two of the most dangerous criminals in the United States. Or so says the news channels.” Her lips quirk.

“I don’t know what to do. You’re my family too, and Zane and Zarah, and Denton, and Douglas, and Mel and Lucille. My life is here.”

“Don’t worry about me. Don’t worry about Zane or anybody else. What do you want?”

I think back to Zane and the exact question his asked yesterday. What do you want? I want a family. When Zane handed me that file, he gave them to me. I pick up the photo, twenty-six years old. My family. They’ve lived with the uncertainty, the fear, for as long as I have.

“I need a few days to think. What did Zane say to you before we left the hotel?”

Quinn crawls on her hands and knees into the living room, drags her purse off the floor near the couch, and hands me a small envelope. “He said he was going to give this to you at the pumpkin patch, but you didn’t take the news very well.”

The cream colored envelope holds a greeting card, two entwined gold hearts embossed on the front, and inside are a bank debit card, a credit card, and all my IDs under Stella Mayfair I lost in Denton’s car when it sank to the bottom of the Renegade.

“The days he was gone, he was learning about your parents and getting things together for you like he said he would.”

Zane wrote inside the card:

Stella,

I promised I’d do right by you. The credit card has unlimited credit—don’t worry about making payments. If you check the bank account, you’ll find the available balance adequate. I know my love isn’t worth anything, not after all this, just like I know you won’t care about the money. All I want is your happiness.

My love always,

Zane

“You were already mad. He didn’t want you to think he was trying to buy you.”

I blow out a breath. “Do you need anything?”

Zane probably gave me more money than I will ever need in this lifetime, and the black credit card that has the gold flecks embedded into the plastic makes me dizzy. I could buy a car, buy a house, move anywhere I want and start over. I wouldn’t have to work, just like he promised. I could hide, and no one would hear from me again.

I could live alone. And be lonely. Peace doesn’t come without a price.

“No. After I read about your parents, I called him. I’m going to New York, and my flight leaves tomorrow morning. Zane has everything arranged.”

My heart drops to the floor. “Quinn . . . that’s so fast.”

“I know, but it’s the right thing to do. If Zane wouldn’t have found your parents, maybe I would have stayed here, been a shackle attached to your ankle. You have so much going for you. You have to be brave, Stella, and live your life. Isn’t that what we used to say to each other? Be brave. I’ll always be part of your life, but it’s time to live that life.”

“You’re going to go to school?”

“Yeah. Zane’s giving me a once in a lifetime chance. I can’t blow it.”

She’s still sitting on the floor, and I settle on the linoleum too and rest my head on her shoulder. “You’ll be so great.”

“I know.”

I laugh, though my heart isn’t a hundred percent in it.

“Go back to sleep, Stella. You’ve got a busy life ahead of you.”

“Come with me? For old times’ sake?”

She kisses my cheek. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

It’s a comfort, sleeping next to Quinn, holding her hand like we did when we were kids, trying to get through a bad night in a bad foster home however we could, but it’s painful, too. In the morning, she’ll be gone, and I won’t have her to lean on anymore.

I go to the airport with her, and the number of people streaming around us stresses me out. I’m tense, but we have coffee and poke around the shops. I can’t go through security, and we wait until the last possible moment to say goodbye.

Tears blurring my vision, I watch her go. She clears the metal detector and gathers her bag and shoes, and she turns and waves. She looks excited, and I’m thankful she can finally do something she wants. Fashion school seemed so out of reach, and even though I’m confused about what I want to do with my own life, I’m happy she’s found her way.

I step out of the airport, fighting off a lonely and desolate feeling. The sun is shining and the air is crisp holding the cool promise of an early winter, but it doesn’t brighten my mood. Out of habit, I think to go to the Crowne, but no one is there and it adds to the heart-crushing feeling that I have no one.

Denton moved out, either into his penthouse he has access to again or the tiny apartment he brought me to, he didn’t say, and he kept Max’s cat. Zane said he would pack up Max’s belongings. I could do that, but I’ve already said my goodbyes and folding his clothes and gathering his things would hurt too much.

Banks is in DC working on the case. Our local police department wasn’t the only law enforcement agency shaken up by Clayton’s and Ash’s arrests. The director of the FBI resigned the minute Clayton’s arrest was made public. The Federal Bureau of Investigations is under investigation as well, and more agents than only the director will go down for covering up Clayton Black’s crimes.

I use the transportation app on my phone and order a car to bring me back to my apartment. My fingers shake as I punch in the address, but I force myself to wait on the curb and try to smile so I don’t look like a woman on the edge of a panic attack, which I am. I carefully match the license plate of the vehicle the app says will pick me up to the Jeep that eases to the sidewalk and stops. I hate doing this kind of thing alone, but unless I want to let myself turn into a recluse, I’m going to need to get used to it.

Saying goodbye to Quinn and finding my way to the apartment alone uses every ounce of mental energy I have, and when I’m safe in my familiar living room again, the scent of our morning coffee still lingering in the air, I push the door closed and sink to the floor, spent.

How am I going to go to Florida by myself? Meet strangers who are supposedly my family? If even the thought terrifies me, how will I go through with it?

Quinn says this is my journey, but I don’t want it to be only my journey. I want to share it with someone. I’ve been alone my whole damned life, and I’m tired of it.

I undress and crawl into bed, dragging a pillow over my head. I’m hiding, and I know it’s childish, but there’s only so much I can tolerate and I’ve reached my limit.

During the following five days, all I do is sleep, watch movies, and eat ice cream. Quinn calls to tell me she made it to New York and that Zane bought her a pretty apartment that’s furnished with everything she needs. She missed the beginning of fall semester and can’t start classes—she’s registered for spring—but she’s already landed an internship at Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen’s label The Row, and she’ll be working on women’s wear in the Garment District. Most of what she says goes right over my head because what I know of fashion or where it’s made can fit into a size five shoe, but Quinn won’t squander the opportunities Zane has given her and she’ll be the next Carolina Herrera. I just know it.

One evening, after I finished the third movie of the day, Denton calls and tells me he’s leaving King’s Crossing. He wants to know if I want to go, but I decline. I explain about my parents, and he grows quiet.

“I’m happy for you, Stella. You went through hell and back helping bring the Blacks to justice, and you deserve this. I hope your parents are everything you need them to be. If they’re not...if you need someone to talk to or a place to get away, call me. I’ll be there in a heartbeat. It doesn’t need to be said, but, no strings, okay?”

I always knew Denton felt an affection for me that bordered on...maybe not love, but closer than friends. That’s what happens when people are shoved into traumatic situations together. He saved my life, and I’ll always be grateful he didn’t let that car kill me.

“I appreciate it, but if I let myself run away, all I’d be doing is hiding from something I said I wanted. I have responsibilities now, and I can’t pretend they don’t exist, no matter how much I want them to disappear.” I pause. “Do you think you’ll come back and work for Maddox Industries again?”

Denton blows out a breath. “Zane mentioned it more than once, but things have changed, and maybe after all this time, not for the better. I’m not the same person I was when Kagan and I worked together, and the company isn’t the same place it used to be, either. The idea of working there again feels like stepping back in time to a place where I don’t think I want to be. Sometimes it’s best to look forward and leave the past behind.”

“I understand.”

“Anyway, you and Zane are a good match. He needs your grit because God knows, that boy can waffle. There’s a saying that behind every strong man is a stronger woman, and that was definitely true in Kagan’s case. Lark had grace and beauty and an inherent goodness that cost her her life. You remind me a lot of Zane’s mother, and if I can say anything about Zane, it’s that he’s fortunate to have you. Good luck, Stella, and give me a call sometime. I’ll visit, eventually. King’s Crossing will always be home.”

We end our conversation, and his parting words ring in my ears. King’s Crossing will always be home . Can it be mine, when my family lives in Florida?

I rinse my bowl and put it in the dishwasher. I’ve never had so much time to myself. After I left Maryanne’s, I was busy working, attending online classes, worrying about paying bills and keeping a roof over my head. I’ve never lived without direction, always trying to find a better place than where I’d come before.

I miss Zane, miss how I feel being held in his arms. Loved. Safe. Maybe he thinks we broke up. I never told him I didn’t want to see him again, but I didn’t call or text to thank him for the debit card and the IDs. I should have, because while I thought he was shutting me out, he’d really been working his ass off to keep his promises and give me what I needed no matter what path I took.

I brush my teeth, crawl into bed, and grab my cell. I’m bringing up his number—and swallowing a huge bite of humble pie—when someone knocks on my door. My heart slams and my skin grows clammy. There’s no one around who would visit me. Quinn’s in New York, Mel’s gone, Denton already said his goodbyes, and Max is dead. There’s no one left who would want to see me unless a reporter tracked me down.

Thankfully, the newspapers and local news channels haven’t paid me much attention. There are bigger things to talk about, though a few women’s magazines want to interview me about my experience trapped in the shipping container on Ash’s cargo ship. I told them I would find out the contact information of the other women who were with me and Quinn, as they could use the small fee paid to them for their time a lot more than me, but I’m ashamed to admit I was too busy wallowing to call Special Agent Banks and ask. I lost track of them, and I would like to know how they are.

Quinn’s right. I am selfish.

The person at my door hasn’t given up and knocks again. The door’s locked, and the chain’s engaged, so I’m not worried someone is going to break in, but I quietly pad to the door and holding my breath, look through the peephole.

Zane’s standing there, but he’s too close, and I can only see his shirt and tie through the fish-eye glass.

Crap.

I’m not ready to see him in person. I’m not ready to look into his eyes and see how much I hurt him giving him the cold shoulder.

I rest my forehead against the door.

“Stella, I know you’re there. Open the door. Please.”

His rich voice floats to me and grips my heart. God, have I missed him. I slide the chain and twist the deadbolt open. He’s leaning against the wall waiting for me to open the door. He looks exhausted, but he sees me and smiles. “Can I come in? Just to talk? I know you hate me.”

Hate him? How could I hate him?

“Yeah.” I move to the side, and he walks in, his steps heavy.

He sinks onto the couch, and I sit next to him, pulling a throw into my lap, my pink cast a stark contrast to the white material.

“I was just about to call you,” I say, worrying the thin blanket between my fingers. I have a difficult time meeting his eyes, but I do because I owe him more than what I’ve been giving him. A lot more.

“Yeah?” His irises are the gooey chocolate color I adore, warm, holding all his love and affection for me. Deep shadows rest beneath his eyes, and scruff covers his jaw. I want to crawl into his lap and ask him to never let me go. But how fair is that when he expects me to leave? When I have to?

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for ignoring you, and for the way I treated you at the pumpkin patch. I...was in shock. I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s the only thing I can say that’s true. I never thought what social services told me was a lie. I never had dreams that my mother had given me up by mistake, or that I was stolen out of my bassinet at a hospital. There were kids, you know, who would tell stories, say they were really royalty, but their parents had hidden them away, trying to keep them out of danger.” I scoff. “We all did what we had to do to cope. While we waited. Waited for what? That was different for every kid. Some kids in foster care, they did have parents who couldn’t take care of them, and they waited for a day when their parents wanted them back. Most of the time, that never happened.”

Zane reaches for my hand, and I let him hold it.

“A lot of kids were like me and Quinn. Had nowhere to go, no family left to love them. Then there were kids who had plenty of family, but they didn’t want the burden of caring for a child who had issues. And God, most of us, we had issues. I was realistic, and I knew, or at least, I thought I knew, my mother passed away. There wasn’t anyone left to love me, simple as that. So when you told me I was kidnapped, Jesus Christ, that sounded just like the nonsense I had to listen to from kids who couldn’t face the truth. That they had no one.”

It’s easier to be angry than scared, but I grit my teeth. No point in being angry, either.

Zane links our fingers, and I focus on our hands on his leg. I want him to tell me I can stay here, that we can ignore everything and build a life together. That I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. But I’m an adult, and I have adult responsibilities. I have to do things I don’t want to do.

“Has anyone told them they found me?” I ask reluctantly.

“No. Banks asked me what you wanted, and I didn’t know. That’s why I’m here. Do you want to meet them, Stella? Do you want to go to Florida and see your parents?”

Tears drip down my cheeks and I can’t stop them. “I want to, but I’m scared. What if I can’t come back here?”

Zane tugs on my hand. “Come here, baby.”

I crawl into his lap and bury my face against his shoulder.

“What do you mean, what if you can’t come back?” he asks, rubbing soothing circles between my shoulder blades.

“What if they don’t let me come back?”

He cradles my face in his hands. “Sweetheart, why would you think that?”

“Because I’m their daughter. What if they want to keep me?”

Kissing my forehead, he murmurs, “Of course they’re going to want to keep you. They’ve lived without you for twenty-six years. Right now, they don’t know if you’re dead or alive. They don’t know if you’ve lived a good life or spent the last twenty-six years in a dog cage in some fucker’s basement, some sick demented animal raping you every day. They’ve gone through hell. When they see you, when they see you’re okay and that you can be their daughter again, of course they’re going to want to keep you.”

Zane voices my fears, but he also lays a lot of them to rest. They’ll want me because I’m their child. They’ll want me because they love me and they’ll want to get to know me. He covers us with the throw, and we sit for what feels like hours. I sniffle into his neck, and he patiently holds me in his lap.

“I have to go see them,” I finally say. My living room’s dark and I’m cocooned in Zane’s love, but I’m still scared of what’s in the shadows.

“You don’t have to do anything, but think of the position your mother’s in. She loves you, and you’ve been gone for such a long time. What if Banks tells her they found you, but that you don’t want to see her? You’d break what’s left of her heart. Go see your family, baby, go see them and be happy. Okay?”

“I love you, Zane.” Those four words hold so much.

“I love you, too, and I have from the second I saw you. I thought you left and it broke me. I never healed because I knew this was coming. I knew with all the shit Clayton and Ash did to you, to us, that something like this was coming. And it’s okay, Stella. I knew, and it’s okay.”

I pull away, and apprehension prickles my skin. “What are you saying? Are you breaking up with me?”

“No. I’ll always want to marry you, but you’ve never said yes because you knew, too.”

“I never said yes because...” I can’t finish which proves his point. I couldn’t say yes because my future was shaky at best, and while finding my parents was the last thing I expected, nothing felt done, nothing felt right, anytime Zane talked about our future as a couple.

He chuckles, but the sound does little to ease my heart. “You should call Banks. Tell him you’re ready to reach out to your mom and dad. He’ll let them know, and he’ll set up a meeting. You don’t have to meet them alone, and if you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to stay.”

I blow out a breath. He’s right. “Okay. Can I see Zarah first? Can I say goodbye to her? How was she when you told her about Max?”

“She took it better than I thought she would. I think the drugs clouded her feelings and later she might have a harder time accepting it. Her doctor’s been by to check on her, and he lowered her doses again. It will be a long road, but one day she’ll be okay. Lucille came back, and that’s made her steadier too. I’m going to renovate the penthouse. I haven’t done much with it since my parents died, and it needs updating. It’s time to start moving on. We need to find some stability, a new normal. Whatever that is.”

His words chill me to the bone. He sounds like he’s moving on without me, planning his future without me. I turn in his arms and kiss him with a desperation I haven’t felt in a long time. I thread my fingers through his hair, and he moans, slipping his tongue into my mouth.

I straddle his lap and grind against his hardening cock. I love that I can turn him on, make him want me. I need that right now, and he gives it to me, hugging me closer, crushing my breasts to his chest.

“I didn’t come here for this,” Zane says against my mouth. “I only wanted to talk.”

“I want to do more,” I say and lick at his lips. “Please.”

“Here?” he asks, pushing his hands under my pajama tank. At least I’ve been showering, and my hair is clean and my legs are smooth.

“Yes.” His fingers graze my nipples, and I gasp. He squeezes, shooting zings of pleasure to my core. I’m wet, and my nipples harden under his touch. Rolling my hips, I rock on his lap against his cock. He pulls my tank over my head and sucks one of my nipples into his mouth. He bites, and I whimper, the small hint of pain driving me crazy.

I go for his tie. He’s so sexy in his suits, and undressing him is like unwrapping a present in beautiful, shiny paper, all for me and no one else. I nibble on his neck as I undo the buttons of his dress shirt. His pulse leaps under my lips, and I lick at his skin, reveling in the taste that belongs only to him. He’s wearing a white tank under his shirt, and I yank the hem from his pants in frustration.

“We can slow down a little,” Zane suggests, grabbing my hands. “We have time.”

“Will you stay here tonight?”

“Like old times, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d like that,” he says.

Knowing he won’t leave after we make love, I relax a little.

He pulls his tank over his head, and we both stand and undress the rest of the way. He needs more time than I do, undoing his belt, and toeing the dress shoes off his feet. I’m wearing the elastic-waist bottoms that match my pajama top, and I’m done first. I use the extra time to watch him. His shoulders are broad, and light hair sprinkles along his chest. His hips are narrow, and when he shoves his briefs off, his erection springs free, grazing his flat abs. The man is delicious, and he wants me, something I don’t think I’ll ever get used to.

“On the couch?” he asks.

“Do you mind?” I want to be on top, look at him while I sink onto him, letting him claim me. There isn’t much light in here, but I don’t need much to measure the hunger on his face.

“I’ll have you any way you let me.”

He sits down, and I settle on his lap, my legs framing his strong thighs. I kiss him again, and he pulls at my hair, tilting my head and slanting his lips over mine the way he wants. I wiggle in his lap, and the tip of his cock nudges my opening. I can’t wait to have him inside me.

“Stella, I didn’t bring a condom. Do you still have some in your nightstand? You should go get one, sweetheart.”

I choose poorly when I’m caught up in my feelings, and oh, have my emotions been on a whirlwind of a ride, but a few days ago we had unprotected sex at the hotel and him wearing a condom now wouldn’t do much good. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

He pauses, and he holds my face in his hands, searching my eyes as his thumbs graze my cheeks. “Tell me you’ll marry me. Tell me straight and give me the truth. After you meet your parents, you’ll come back and be my wife. I need you, Stella, and I love you, very much.”

I lick my lips. Life with Zane will be complicated. His wealth, the demands on his time. The functions, the dinners, the fundraisers. Do I love him enough to see past all that? I used to think I didn’t. I used to think the way he lived and the way I disagreed with it meant more than our love. I hated that he took so much for granted when I grew up having nothing but what strangers saw fit to give me.

I blamed him for something that wasn’t his fault.

He’s not a bad person because he has money, just like I’m not a bad person because I grew up without it.

We love each other, and that makes us equals.

I laugh. When I thought we couldn’t get through this, when I thought we would go our separate ways, we came back stronger than ever.

Vigorously, I nod my head. “Yes.”

He growls possessively and turns our positions. I’m on my back and he’s sliding inside me before I can even blink.

The tip of his cock touches my center, and I lift up my hips, encouraging him to take me. His thrusts are brutal and deep, but I love it. He holds on to the back of the couch while his other hand keeps my leg in place, his fingers digging into my skin. His whole body trembles, and I know he’s going to come soon.

I rub my clit to help myself along. He feels my fingers graze him and hisses, “Stella.”

“I love feeling you inside me, how connected we are.”

Teasing me, he slows the tempo, and I play with my clit. He watches, and I would have thought it impossible for him to get any bigger. His cock thickens until I can’t think, and he says, “I’m not going to last much longer.”

“Just another second.” My orgasm is right there, just out of reach.

Zane lowers my leg, and I prop my foot on the coffee table. He nudges my hand away and rubs at my clit. I pinch my nipples, and desire darkens his eyes. The extra stimulation has me tumbling over the edge, and I come, my muscles hugging his cock while he strokes in and out of me.

I quiet, my panting turning into light breaths, and he touches my leg. I know what he wants and I get up and kneel, my breasts pressed against the back of the couch. Zane loves to take me from behind, and he does so now, sliding into me without warning.

I cry out—my climax made me tender—and he curls his body around me, licking my neck. “Hold on a second.” He caresses my breasts and then slides one hand down my belly.

“No, I can’t,” I whimper.

“Yes, you can. Let me play.”

He grips me to him and teases the sensitive nub between my legs. Tears gather in my eyes. Just when I think there’s no way I can come again, tension builds and I grind into his hand wanting more. “Zane.”

“I know. Come for me, Stella. Explode for me. I need your fire. I missed you so much.”

I lean over and press my mouth to his arm. Zane’s buried as deeply into me as he can go, and it almost hurts.

He holds me as he thrusts hard and quick, and he comes, shooting hot bursts of cum inside me.

I orgasm too, clinging to the couch, gasping, and he uses me as a support, his chest heaving against my back. His fingers feather over my clit, but I yelp, stopping him. “No more.”

He laughs, the sound deep, and for once, without stress or pain. “Maybe later.”

Sighing with relief when his hand drops away, I agree. “Yes. Later.”

Gently, he pulls out of me and carries me to bed. We lie in the dark, our legs tangled together. He holds me close, his lips pressed to my temple. “Did you mean it?”

“Yeah, I did,” I say, rubbing his arm, “but it’s not like we can get married tomorrow.”

“I’ll wait as long as I need to. Hey, I’ll be right back.”

Zane slides out of bed, and naked, walks into the living room. I hear him ruffle through his clothes, and he flips the hallway light on when he steps into the bedroom. I blink against the glare. It’s not bright, but it’s more than I’m used to after making love in the dark.

He sits on the edge of the mattress and the old springs squeak under his weight. “Come here.”

“I’m already here,” I say, but I sit up, wrapping the top sheet around my breasts.

He’s holding something in his hand, and he says, “I’ll always regret not listening to you, and I’ll always regret how much evidence I needed to believe you. One afternoon Ash left me alone in his office. I needed a piece of scratch paper, and I searched every drawer of his desk.” Zane swallows, and the sticky sound of it echoes in the quiet. “That’s when I found it.” His voice cracks, and he can’t continue.

In his palm lays my ring, the one he gave me at the penthouse, the one he said symbolized his promise to marry me one day. The ring Ash took from me the night he locked me in my room at Black Enterprises. I never fought him. I never fought to keep it because I didn’t think I’d ever escape. I never thought I’d see Zane again.

His whole body trembles as he holds my left hand and slides the ring onto my finger. It’s still a perfect fit, even after all this time.

“It humbles me, Stella, that after all I’ve done, you’ll still wear this.”

“You kept it.” The ring feels foreign on my hand, just like it did when he first placed it there, but this time it feels permanent.

“After I found it, I knew everything you told me was true. All the rumors were true. That Ash was capable of anything, of everything, and my only thoughts were getting you back.”

He flops onto the bed and stares at the ceiling.

I lie close to him and kiss his lips. “Thank you. I never thought I’d see it again.”

“It should never have left your finger in the first place. I’m sorry.”

There are a lot of things I could say, but they seem inconsequential now, after everything. “Do you want some ice cream?” I ask instead.

He brushes the hair from my face. “Can I lick it off your body?”

“Hmmm.” I pretend to think. “Can you make do with a bowl and spoon?” I ask, laughing. I’m so grateful we can put this all behind us.

“Maybe for a little bit.”

I attack him, hugging him tightly to me. “How about later?”

Rolling me onto my back, he says, “That’s fine. I like this dessert better anyway.”

We fall asleep, the orange glow of the streetlight glimmering through the window above my bed. Without Zane, I haven’t been sleeping well, and dead to the world, I need several minutes to wake up enough to realize the jingling I hear is Zane’s cell phone ringing in the living room. It’s muffled by his pants laying in a heap on the floor.

I poke him. He’s softly snoring, and he doesn’t respond to the nudge I give him on his arm.

The ringing stops, but when I think we’ll be left alone, it starts up again.

I scramble across the bed and hurry to the couch. I search his pockets and find his cell just before the call goes to voicemail. It’s Douglas, and I don’t hesitate to answer.

“Douglas, what’s wrong?”

“Miss Mayfair?”

“Yes. Zane and I are at my old apartment. What’s wrong?”

“Miss Maddox isn’t in her room. Miss Flannigan woke to use the restroom, and she’s not in her bed. We searched the penthouse, but there’s no sign of her.”

“Crap. Okay. We’ll be right there.”

Douglas’ breath hitches. “Thank you. We’re sorry about this.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. If I know Zarah, she’s been feeling cooped up, just like we all have. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

I disconnect and race into my bedroom. Shaking Zane’s shoulder, I say, “Hey, you need to wake up.”

“Sorry, I’ll stop,” he mumbles and tries to roll over.

“Zane. Douglas called. Zarah’s not at the penthouse.”

“What?” He levers himself onto one elbow.

I scrub the scruff along his jaw. “Your sister’s not in her room.”

Groggily, he slides out of bed. “What did Douglas say?”

I find comfortable clothes. Loose knit pants, a tank top, and a shirt thrown over it. “They searched everywhere, and there’s no sign of her. Ingrid woke up to go to the bathroom, otherwise, they might not have known until morning.”

“Fuck. This is my fault. I haven’t been spending as much time with her as I should.”

Gripping his arm, I stop him in the living room, and he pauses. “I’m to blame, too. When I was avoiding you, I was avoiding her. She’s lonely, and Max is gone. Come on.”

I don’t bother putting on a jacket, though the temperature has dropped. We hurry to his SUV. Due to the late hour, the streets are empty, and we reach the penthouse in under fifteen minutes.

We stand in the elevator and he wraps his arms around me. It feels good to be facing something together, instead of on opposite sides of the problem.

The elevator doors open to the foyer revealing Douglas pacing in the living room. Dressed in a nightgown and robe, Lucille’s sitting on the couch shredding a tissue, and Ingrid is standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows crying.

Zane walks to her side and rests a hand on her shoulder. No one blames her. Zarah’s headstrong and was raised to do as she pleases.

I sit next to Lucille.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” she says, hugging me.

“I missed you, too.”

“Do you think we should call the police?” Douglas asks. He’s wearing a black suit similar to what he wears when he’s on the job. He looks stiff and uncomfortable dressed for work at three o’clock in the morning.

“Let’s not just yet. I don’t think she’s in trouble,” Zane says, shoving his hands into his pockets and tipping his head back. “Maybe she was restless, and Stella and I haven’t been around much. She probably misses Mel and Quinn. Denton. Max, obviously, and her doctor adjusted her meds not long ago. I guess that was poor timing, but Jesus, I hate her drugged up like that and I want her off that shit as quickly as possible.”

I agree with Zane about the police. They won’t help us. Not all of them. Eight precincts of the King’s Crossing Police Department were shaken up and rattled down when the Blacks were arrested. The district attorney’s office and the police department’s Internal Affairs are looking into every officer and detective in the city. Not every officer in the department is guilty, but the chances of a detective coming to the penthouse who didn’t have an axe to grind are slim.

“Where would she go?” I ask. “Do you think she grabbed a cab and she’s riding around town? Or maybe she found a café, and she’s sitting outside drinking a coffee.” That’s what I would do if I needed air and wanted to go somewhere in the middle of the night. Find a café that’s open all night, order a coffee, and sit on the sidewalk and watch the midnight crawlers walk by.

“That doesn’t sound like her, but neither does running off,” Zane admits. He turns to Ingrid. “Has she said anything to you recently? Mentioned wanting to go anywhere, or see anyone?”

She shakes her head. “No, only the usual. She misses the closeness of everyone in the hotel. I’ve tried playing games with her, encouraging her to read like Dr. Reagan suggested, get her mind moving, but she’s been out of sorts. We go for walks, but I can tell it’s not the same. She loved having everyone around.”

“That’s what I thought. She’s had to tolerate too many changes at one time.” Zane rubs his face.

“On the bright side, she is an adult, and her mind is clearer,” I remind him. “We’re not dealing with a child. She knows what she wants, even if it’s a little fuzzy at the moment.”

Lucille squeezes my hand.

“I’ll talk to security. She might be in the building somewhere, walking the hallways like she and Max would do at the hotel. If she went down to the lobby, someone saw her leave, and they can at least tell me which direction she went.”

Zane pulls me to my feet and gives me a kiss. He steps into the elevator, and after he’s gone, I go upstairs to the bedrooms. Zarah’s suite is the same as it was when I first met her, and a photo album lays open on the bed. Ingrid followed me, and she sits next to me as I flip through the pictures. “Did you make this for her?”

“Yes. With Dr. Reagan’s permission,” she says, a little defensively. “He thought it would be nice if she could look at familiar faces while everyone’s busy.”

Maybe her doctor doesn’t know Max is dead, or maybe Zane didn’t explain what exactly we were doing camped out at the Crowne that would give us a reason to be together. The album is full of pictures of us sitting around Max’s conference table, eating meals, planning. There are selfies of Zarah and Quinn, Zarah and me. Even some of her and Nathalie, and I feel terrible because I don’t know if anyone explained to Zarah what happened to her, or if she overheard us talking about Nathalie’s betrayal and Ash killing her.

There are several of her with Max’s cat laying on her lap, and I wish I would have had the forethought to ask Denton if Zarah could keep it instead of him. What is Denton going to do with a cat, anyway? I think, irritated. He shouldn’t have been allowed to keep it in the first place. Max’s brother contacted Zane through Max’s attorney and said he would go to the Crowne one of these days to pick up his things. Zane isn’t the only one who dropped the ball when it came to Zarah’s care. We all did.

I sigh and keep flipping the pages. No wonder she ran away. It breaks my heart to look at these photos. “It’s okay. No one is blaming you. Zarah enjoyed having everyone around, and since Zane moved her back to the penthouse, I can see why she’d be lonely.”

The late hour weighs on me, and I hate imagining Zarah out in it. I tried to reassure Zane, but honestly, I don’t know where Zarah’s mind is at, and she could have gone anywhere, done anything.

I go back downstairs just as Zane comes up in the lift. “Security saw her go. Let her walk right out the front doors,” he says, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

Douglas pours a glass of something at the bar. He offers Zane the drink, but he waves it off.

Ingrid sits on the staircase, and Lucille starts sniffling again.

“She’s their boss,” I say, defending the security guards stationed in the lobby. “They aren’t going to stop her from leaving her own building.”

Zane glares at me, but I lift my chin. Sometimes he forgets how powerful he is, how much authority his name and money give him. It will always be my job to keep him in balance.

His shoulders slump. “You’re right, you’re right. They saw her leave in a white SUV. That’s all they could tell me.”

Something Ingrid says sticks in my mind. Something about the photos and how much she misses everyone.

“Do you think she went back to the hotel?” As soon as I say it, I’m almost certain that’s where she went. She’s looking for the peace and joy she felt while everyone was together. She’s hoping to find it at the hotel, only I know it won’t work. She’ll feel more alone than ever being in a familiar place without anyone there.

“Good idea. She loved the rooftop pool. Let’s go.”

Douglas and Ingrid head toward the elevator, but Zane stops them. “You should stay in case she comes back. Lucille? Can you put on some decaf? If she’s at the Crowne, we’ll bring her home as soon as we can.”

She stands shakily to her feet and wipes her cheeks. “Of course.”

Zane holds my hand, and we reach the underground parking garage within seconds. He chooses the SUV he drove to my apartment, and we’re on the street in front of his building before I can click my seatbelt in place.

“What made you think of it?” he asks, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. The early-to-work executives are starting to crowd the street, and Zane can’t ease through the intersections as quickly as he did on our way to the penthouse.

“Ingrid put together a photo album of us hanging around Max’s suite. Zarah’s doctor gave her the okay, but I was sad looking at them. I had no idea how much...fun...Zarah had while we were together.” I choke on the word because holy hell, those few weeks while we worked to take down Ash and Clayton were anything but fun.

“Maybe not fun, sweetheart,” he says, “but after her time at Quiet Meadows, having people around gave her comfort and she felt loved for the first time in years. Just like you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

There’s no reason to hide anymore, and Zane parks under the canopy in front of the hotel. We hurry through the glass doors, and the night manager pokes her head out of the office but she sees who it is and ducks back inside.

“Did you see my sister walk through the lobby?” he calls out, and the brunette peers from the office behind the registration desk again.

“No, sir. It’s been quiet all night.”

I deflate. Maybe I’m wrong and Zarah’s not here.

“Thank you.” He turns to me and says, “She used the staff doors, like we’ve been doing.”

A surge of hope shoots through me again.

The elevator ride to the top floor is excruciatingly slow, and Zane practically drags me up the stairs to the rooftop.

The view will always leave me breathless, King’s Crossing stretching brilliantly for miles, the Renegade a dark ribbon that disappears into the horizon. Fall swept over us, and the cool wind whistles as it blows, creating ripples in the pool. The days are shorter, and the stars are still bright in a sky fending off the sun’s rise.

I would have missed the whimper if Zane hadn’t heard it first, but then I see Zarah curled into a ball on the chaise lounge where Zane and I sat one afternoon. It’s tucked under an awning, and she’s hiding in the shadows.

He starts forward, but I stop him. “Can I talk to her? I feel like this is my fault. I promised I would be around to help her adjust, and I haven’t.”

Brushing his hand over the back of my head, he says, “You’re not to blame. You’ve had a lot of news dumped on you in the past few days.”

“I know, and I haven’t told Zarah any of it.”

“Okay, but I’m not going downstairs until you two are ready to go home.”

I pause when he says that. Home. Is that the penthouse? My apartment? Or like the saying goes, “Home is where the heart is?” That’s with Zane, but I need a physical place I belong, too. Somewhere the people I love, and who love me, are waiting for me. That hasn’t been my apartment, and that hasn’t been Zane’s penthouse. That hasn’t been the Crowne, either, and once again, I feel like I’m looking for something that doesn’t exist.

He rests his warm palm on the nape of my neck. “Hey, I know what’s going on in that head of yours, and we’ll figure it out, okay?” His brown eyes search mine, and I step into his arms. I have to trust him.

“Okay.” He rubs my back, and I want to stay in his embrace forever, but another of Zarah’s whimpers carries to us, and I lean away.

The pool’s lights shimmer, giving me enough light I don’t trip over the patio furniture.

Zarah’s lying on her side on the chaise lounge, her knees brought up to her chest. She’s dressed in yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt. I sit next to her and lay my hand on her thigh. “Hey, sweetie, we’ve been looking for you. A lot of people are worried.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I don’t mean to cause trouble.”

“You’re not trouble, but running off in the middle of the night isn’t a good idea, you know?”

She meets my eyes, and hers are deep pits of misery. “I miss him. Max. He was so patient. Anything I didn’t understand he talked me through. He liked being with me, even though my brain still isn’t working right.”

“I know. We miss him, too. Everyone’s gone and things aren’t the same, but Zane and I, and Ingrid and Lucille, even Douglas, and Dr. Reagan, we’re all going to help you. Ash had you locked up for a long time, and I know exactly how you feel. Remember, Ash had me locked up too. Our lives were very small, and right now things can seem so much bigger than what they are. But you have people who love you...please remember you aren’t fighting alone.”

“I have nightmares about him,” Zarah says, and I let out a sigh because I do, too. I dream about Ash killing Zane or escaping prison and hunting me down, wanting revenge.

“Me, too, but he’s in prison. He’s never going to hurt anyone ever again. Zane will make sure.”

“Where have you been? I missed you.”

I lie next to her, and she curls into me like I have so many times with Quinn. “Hiding at my apartment. I needed a few days to think about things, but Zane and I talked tonight. He said hiding won’t solve anything, and it’s the same for you. You can’t run away. It only causes more problems than it solves. Lucille is really worried about you, and Ingrid feels terrible.”

“Are you mad at me?” she whispers.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Because you left and didn’t tell me goodbye.”

I brush my fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry. I’m here now and I won’t do it again.”

“Where’s Quinn?” she asks, her voice small.

“She went to New York, and she’s working at The Row. Have you heard of them?”

“Yes. They have beautiful clothes.” She pauses. “She didn’t want to stay here.”

“She likes New York. It was hard for her to choose.”

“And for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Zane found your mom and dad. I heard him talking to Special Agent Banks about it. You’re going to Florida to meet them.”

“I don’t know if that’s what I want to do.” Even her mentioning it slicks my skin with sweat.

Zarah sits up, her eyes wide. “You have to! You have a chance to meet your mom and dad! Why would you throw that away?”

I sit up too and say, “Because I’m scared.”

“Being scared is okay as long as you don’t let it run your life. That’s what my doctor says. I’m scared of Ash and what I’m going to do without Max. He said we would explore the world together, and that’s gone.” Tears dribble down her cheeks.

I tap her nose, and she gives me a weak and watery smile. “Zarah, you didn’t know what you wanted to do when I met you. Remember payroll? You aren’t so very far from where you were back then. Ash robbed you of so much time, and Max wouldn’t want you to miss out on even more because he’s gone. He’d want you to enjoy life, experience the world, do the things you and he wanted to do. Max’s attorney called Zane. Max had an older brother and he’ll be picking up his things. Maybe you can talk to him a little bit, share some memories. He lives in King’s Crossing, and maybe, if you want, you can go to Max’s funeral. Say a proper goodbye.”

“I’ll think about it. I don’t know if I can handle something like that.”

“Zane can go with you. He took Max’s death pretty hard, too. And I’ll go, if I’m here.”

“Will you come back to the penthouse with us?”

“Yeah, I will. Zarah, Zane wants to marry me.”

She taps my nose, and I laugh. “He did when he met you. You aren’t so very far from where you were, either.”

With a start, I realize she’s right. Things only have to change as much as I let them change.

She grabs my hand, and in the pale light of the early morning, she studies the ring Zane pushed onto my finger when he proposed. “He gave you this ring before, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” I say, my heart sinking. I hate what Ash did to her. “When Ash took me, he took the ring, too, and Zane found it. Come on, everyone is waiting for us.”

I stand, and grasping her hands, gently tug her to her bare feet. She left the penthouse without shoes.

“When are you going to meet your parents?”

The idea churns my stomach. “I don’t know.”

“Soon,” she urges.

“Why soon?” Why can’t I wait a little bit? Why can’t I let the idea sit with me a while? Why can’t I hide from it for a few weeks longer?

“Because the sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll come back. Then you’ll marry Zane, and we’ll be sisters.”

I like the sound of that.

Zane turns from the view and watches us walk arm in arm across the rooftop. “The two most beautiful women in King’s Crossing. Are you two ladies ready to go home?”

Zarah giggles. “Yes, we’re ready.” She sobers. “I’m sorry you were worried.”

He hugs her and kisses the top of her head. “I’ll always worry about you, Z.”

Surprisingly, I am ready. If Zarah has the courage to face whatever’s coming next, then so do I.

Zarah sits in the front seat on the way back, and Zane keeps glancing at me in the rearview mirror. Though that day feels far away, it will be nice when he won’t worry about what I’m thinking or what I’m feeling.

While Zarah and I talked, Zane called Lucille, and everyone is waiting in the living room. Lucille, Ingrid, and Douglas are careful not to show Zarah they were upset, only happy she’s home where she belongs. We have decaf coffee and homemade scones in the kitchen, but as the sun comes up, we’re practically sleeping on our feet, and we all go to bed.

I tuck Zarah in myself.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” she asks, snuggling into her pillow.

“Yes. Zane said Banks hasn’t told my parents yet, and they don’t know what happened to me. He might need a few days to set up a meeting with them. When I fly out, I’ll definitely let you know.” I mention the airplane, and she blanches. I kick myself for being so insensitive.

“I want see you as much as I can before you go,” she says, her eyes drifting shut.

“I promise.”

I kiss her forehead and turn off the light.

Zane still sleeps in his childhood bedroom, not having moved into the master suite. He’s lying in bed, wearing only his Rolex and a smile.

I undress and crawl into bed. “I think I’m ready. Zarah’s so brave, and if she can be that brave, so can I.”

He sighs, and I know he wouldn’t complain if I told him I didn’t want to meet my parents. He’s scared of what it will do to us, but I have to believe that if our love has been strong enough to get us to where we are, then it’s strong enough to withstand anything.

“In the morning, I’ll call Banks and he’ll reach out to your mom and dad,” he says.

“Thank you.”

He wraps his arms around me. “God, I love you, Stella.”

“I love you, too.”

I don’t fall asleep for a long time, but it isn’t fear that keeps me awake.

It’s the infinite, and frightening, possibilities.

Zane contacts Banks that afternoon. He’s tense, his muscles rigid as he speaks to the FBI agent. It’s difficult for him to push me in one direction when he wants to pull me in the other, but he’s selfless enough to do it anyway.

Special Agent Banks offers to fly to King’s Crossing and then to Orlando so I don’t have to meet my parents alone. He says he’ll alert them I’ve been located and book a flight from DC as soon as he can.

As a distraction, Zane helps me unpack the clothes Mel bought, and the dresses, skirts, and blouses Zarah and I shopped for that were still in my apartment, and hang them in his closet. “You don’t need to keep it, do you?” he asks, referring to my apartment.

Letting go of the only place I called home since I moved out of Maryanne’s sends goosebumps rising along my skin. Do I trust Zane will take care of me when I have nowhere else to go? Even though I know Zane owns the building, the apartment still kind of feels like mine. I push my fear away. If I can’t move forward with him, then we have nothing. “I’d like time to go through the rest of my things,” I try to say calmly, but my voice wavers.

“I’ll have everything boxed up and put into storage, then you can go through it anytime. You don’t have to get rid of anything.”

I open my mouth, an objection fast on my lips.

Flicking a glance at me, he pauses, holding a hanger in one hand and a dress in the other. “I want you to run to me if you’re scared or if you need someone, not hide from me there, but it’s not fair to ask you to give up the one place where you feel the most comfortable. I’m sorry. We don’t have to empty out your apartment if you don’t want to.”

“No, you’re right. I love you, and I don’t need it anymore. Pack up everything, and I’ll go through it when I come back.”

His face evens out with my agreement. “All right.”

He sinks onto his bed, and I hang up the silk dress wrapped around his hand. He has plenty of space in his closet and fitting my clothes on “my side” isn’t a problem.

“What’s the matter?” I ask, crawling into his lap.

“It’s time for me to move forward, too. I’ve been living like my parents are going to come back, but they’re not. I’ve kept the penthouse the same as it was the day my parents left for that wedding. I haven’t renovated or moved into their room, and their master suite is still full of their things. Now that Zarah and I know the truth about their deaths, it’s time to put it away. You aren’t the only one who’s been scared of the future.” He twists the ring on my finger. “I don’t want to start anything until you come back and tell me what you like. I can start in the kitchen because that’s Lucille’s territory, and Zarah can redecorate her room if she wants to. You’re going to be Mrs. Maddox, and I want you to have a say...”

He looks miserable.

“Zane . . .”

“I can’t ask you to promise me you’ll come back, but I’m not going to lie, Stella, it will feel like I’m holding my breath until you’re with me again.”

His pain breaks my heart. It always has, and I will always do everything in my power to keep him from hurting. I feather my lips over his jaw, clinging to his shoulders, and his arms hold me tightly against his chest.

“I don’t have to go.” Saying it is a relief. So many expectations. As much as I’ve wanted parents, it terrifies me. I told Quinn I’m afraid they won’t like me, but that was only a small thing I’m worried about. No, I’m afraid they don’t still love me, that they’ve forgotten about me. That there’s no room in their lives for me anymore.

“Yes, you do. By now Banks has told them they found you. They’ll be over the moon to hear you’re safe, that some psycho hasn’t been torturing you. They’ll want to see that for themselves. There’s no way you can do that to them.”

I swallow. Banks already told them. I can’t back out now. “I’m nervous.”

“They are, too, sweetheart.” He brushes a kiss to my forehead. “You’ve waited your entire life to have this. So have they. Enjoy it.”

I curl into him and rest my chin on his shoulder. “I’ll try.”

He nudges me and looks into my eyes. His are warm and full of love and promises. “Come on. There’s nothing left to do up here, and I told Zarah we’d whip her butt at Yahtzee.”

“That sounds perfect.”

We play games for the rest of the afternoon, Lucille feeding us between her chores. Zane gave Ingrid a couple of days off, and it’s the four of us laughing and pretending I’m not flying to Florida in what I thought was a few days’ time.

But that night, as Zane and I are changing into our pajamas, Banks calls and says he’ll fly out of DC in the morning and he’ll land in King’s Crossing at noon. He’s already purchased my ticket to Orlando, and my mom and dad will be waiting at the airport.

My lips part in silent protest. I thought I’d have more time, but I have to work with Banks and his schedule and my ticket is ready.

I try, but I can’t sleep. My stomach is twisted into hideous knots of fear, and I throw up all night. Zane holds my hair and rubs my back as he tries to reassure me that everything is going to be just fine.