Chapter Three
CHAPTER THREE
Stella
I shouldn’t have come back, but on the way down, I kept thinking of Zane’s deep brown eyes and all the pain and hurt in them. I stand in the elevator, and his gaze collides mine from across the living room. Debating what to say, I give the doors too much time, and they begin to slide shut. I don’t know if I should go back down or step into the foyer, but Zane decides for me and bounds barefoot across the living room, his skin glistening in the sunset. He stops the doors from closing, stops the car from delivering me back downstairs.
“Are you looking for Zarah?” he asks, and his scent, his presence, makes me dizzy.
He smells like sex, and that should be a giant turn-off, but somehow, it’s not.
He’s not wearing a shirt, something I ignored in the kitchen. I didn’t miss Zarah’s frown when he came in to see what we were doing, and I didn’t let myself drool in respect of her feelings. All her friends must fall in love with her brother—she’s probably been putting up with it since infancy.
While I sat on that barstool, something on his somber face tugged at me, something I couldn’t forget in the elevator, and I decided to express my condolences. He is my boss, after all. It’s the polite thing to do. “No. I came back up to say...I just want to say I’m sorry about your mom and dad. I lost my manners earlier. I should have said it sooner.”
Stepping back, he says, “Come in and sit down.”
I hesitate. I don’t want to upset Zarah. She could still have me fired if she decides she doesn’t like me.
“Come on. It’s not a big deal.”
He must not be able to hear my heart hammering or he would know this is a very big deal. “Zarah...” I say.
“I know. I promised her I’d behave. Just friends.”
Reluctantly, I nod. No harm in being friends. Zarah and I didn’t plan to spend any more time together. I don’t think I’ll see her again.
Stepping into the foyer, I drop my heels and purse onto the gleaming tile. I follow him into the living room and sit on the couch in front of a gas fireplace. Through the wall made of glass, the city’s skyline glitters pink and purple, the sky showing us an early fall Minnesota sunset.
He sits next to me, closer than I’d like, but all he does is rest an arm along the top of the couch and turns to look at me.
“You’re so pretty,” he says, his finger brushing at one of my earrings. He probably knows they’re fake. When you grow up with money, you’re aware of cheap things. At least, that’s how I assume it works. I grew up poor, and I know expensive when I see it.
I wonder if he can tell fake women from the ones who want to get to know him just for him and not his money. Maybe in his world there are no such women. I’m not looking to be one. I know I could never fit in here, and I don’t want to try.
“I bet you hear that all the time,” he says when I don’t say anything.
The truth is, I forgot he said it. I do hear it a lot, but it doesn’t mean much if the men who say it would rather use you than treat you like a person. Growing up pretty in foster care can be dangerous. It brings unwanted attention, and I’ve always fought between downplaying how I look or playing up my assets. After all, beauty is rewarded.
It’s separating the good rewards from the bad rewards that sucks shit. A good reward is a job, the bad reward is the sleazy boss who comes with it. I’m lucky Simon is a stand-up guy, and I’ll do whatever I need to do to keep my job at Maddox Industries.
Finally, I shrug. “Looks don’t mean much if you’re not treated with respect.”
Heat stains Zane’s cheeks. He must be thinking about the woman he had in his room earlier. He didn’t introduce us to her. That tells me only one thing—he was ashamed of what he’d done with her. Maybe to her. He doesn’t look like the type who would treat a woman like that, but I’ve learned looks can be deceiving. Even a guy as sweet-looking as Zane Maddox can have evil lurking beneath the surface.
“You’re right. I’m not going to lie. These past few months have been hard. I’ve been pushed into a position I wasn’t ready for. Still not. I’m trying to hold it together for Zarah, for the employees of the company, but sometimes...”
“Crying isn’t an option.” I want to touch him, but without a shirt, resting my hand on his shoulder is out of the question, and his thigh is way too close to another body part that has already gotten a workout today.
Bracing his elbows on his knees, he holds his head in his hands. “No. Anyway, it’s getting late. You should head home. Do you want a ride? I can drive you, or ask Douglas—he’s our driver—grab you a cab...”
It would be smart to accept his offer, and quicker, too, but I say, “No, thanks. I’ll ride the train, and it won’t take me long to get to my apartment.”
I expect him to argue, maybe order me to stay until he can put some clothes on and drive me home himself, but he stands, and his warm hand grabbing mine, helps me to my feet. “Okay. Thanks for coming back. Have a good weekend.”
He escorts me to the lift and pushes the call button. The doors open immediately—the car never went down. I grab my shoes and purse and step into the elevator.
He leans against the wall, and he disappears from my sight as the doors close. At the very last second, he thrusts his hand into the crack, steps into the elevator, and pulls me to him. He captures me in a kiss, his hot lips slanting over mine, and I feel things that are very, very off-limits.
I’m kissing my boss.
And I like it.
His mouth tastes sweet, dried sweat gritty on his skin. Maybe, just maybe, if he wouldn’t have joined Zarah and me after screwing a woman he hid from us, maybe I would have given in, but I have more respect for myself than that and I finally push him away. “This isn’t a good idea,” I say, and I press the back of my hand to my trembling lips.
The light dims in his brown eyes, and I can’t decide if he’s disappointed that I turned him away or he’s disappointed that he simply didn’t get what he wants. Either way, it doesn’t matter to me. I don’t have time to coddle poor little rich boys.
“I’m sorry. You’re right.” He steps out of the car, and the doors close.
My hands are still shaking and my stomach is still doing somersaults on the train ride home. I sit, the buildings of King’s Crossing rushing by, and I relive his lips on mine, his warm hands circling my waist. I’m jolted out of my daydream as the train stops at the station I need to walk to the bus that will drop me on my street. I live in a quiet residential neighborhood, and the rent isn’t bad. I don’t have much left at the end of the month, but I have a roof over my head, food in the fridge, and a job that can offer me room to grow.
If I didn’t just blow it.
Though, funnily enough, I think Zarah would be more disappointed in me for falling for her brother’s charms than Zane would be for turning him down. I’ll find out Monday if I still have a job or if I find my things packed in a box, Connie donning her usual told-you-so smirk. Getting mixed up with the Maddox family really is a bad idea. The only connection I want to Zane Maddox now is his signature on my paycheck.
No matter how sweet his lips are.