Chapter Eighteen
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Zane
I ask Douglas, the family driver and Dad’s jack-of-all-trades bodyguard, to drive me to the Sacred Heart Cemetery where my parents are buried. Their caskets, anyway. Without their bodies, I don’t feel like they’re there, but I walk across the grass toward their headstones to pay my respects. I need air. Alone. The office is stifling, and Lucille will be at the penthouse. I don’t want to go to the club, and Ash wouldn’t give me the consolation I need. All he’d say is, “I told you so.”
Denton told me he caught Stella going through his personal email. He equipped his account with a security alert, and she tripped it when she logged in using an unauthorized computer.
I don’t know what she was looking for. I thought I could trust her, but now I’m not sure. I want to. I need someone on my side, but she took it upon herself to dig through my father’s partner’s email.
While I don’t like the idea that Denton and Clayton Black are meeting behind my back—I would like to know what they’re talking about just as much as it appears Stella does—there’s nothing in Denton’s contract that says he and Clayton can’t form other business interests outside Maddox Industries and Black Enterprises. It could be as simple as that, but I would be stupid and shortsighted not to have doubts.
My father and Clayton were good friends. That shouldn’t have changed because Dad’s gone. I would like to think Clayton is still loyal to Zarah and me, if anything because Ash is in love with my sister. We’re tied together by love and honor, but how strong are those ties now that my father is dead?
I believe Denton is still dedicated to the company, perhaps not to me, specifically, but to the company at least, if only to keep lining his own pockets, and I will until I know differently.
Our talk with Chase last night started something, and Stella could have been looking for dirt on Clayton, maybe Ash, too, hoping to find something in Denton’s correspondence. After what we heard, I doubt she trusts Denton, either, but snooping through his private email is not the way to find evidence to prove her suspicions correct.
I won’t tell Stella I know. If she has an agenda, I want it to play out. If she’s betraying me, I need proof, but hacking into Denton’s email isn’t like her, isn’t like the woman who got her back up when someone called foster kids a cause. The whole situation hurts my heart.
I kneel at the matching headstones, my parents’ names etched into the granite. Their bodies aren’t under the grass, and until their remains are found, I’ll always harbor a secret wish they’re alive, that Mom and Dad are hiding until they can figure out what caused the crash.
It’s a pipe dream. Kagan Maddox wouldn’t let me flounder like this. If he were alive, no matter how dangerous, he would have found a way to get word to me.
Somehow.
I want to cry, but there’s a flash of a camera’s lens in the dense brush alongside the cemetery grounds. I’m not alone. The paparazzi won’t let me grieve, and now on the gossip sites there will be pictures of me on my knees and blogposts speculating if I’m fit to take over my father’s legacy after all.
Strong men don’t cry.
I pull out my phone and give the camera my back. Make a call. I shouldn’t wait until the party. Waiting is stupid. I ask to speak to the person my dad trusted as much as he trusted Clayton Black. Maybe more.
“Wagner.”
“Nigel. I need some help.”
“Kid, I thought you’d never ask.”
Talking to Nigel Wagner smooths out some of my rough edges, and it makes me feel more in control. Zarah invited him and his wife, Helena, to the party, but he says he’ll arrange to fly over sooner. Just knowing I’ve gotten in touch with him loosens a huge ball of nerves that made their home inside my chest, and I tell him he can wait.
Nigel agrees and says he would wrap up some things and plan to spend a few months here.
His generosity makes my throat burn, and I try to say thank you.
“Don’t,” he says. “It’s not necessary. Chin up, kid. Things will be okay.”
I say goodbye, sink onto the grass, and breathe in the crisp fall air.
Going over what I know, I check them off:
Zarah and Ash are spending a lot of time together. That doesn’t bother me. In fact, I’m relieved she’s in good hands. I don’t care Stella doesn’t like him. She’s known him for a week—I’ve known him all my life. Ash would never rape a woman or beat her. On the night in question, he was at his strip club blowing off steam or checking things were running smoothly. I wouldn’t doubt if it was a little of both as Ash never had a problem mixing business and pleasure.
Richard Denton and Clayton Black are meeting behind my back. It could be nothing, but because of the way Denton and Cramer have been pressuring me, it’s smart to be wary. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. My father could have started to have problems with Denton, but he never mentioned anything to me and now I’ll never know.
Stella was snooping through Denton’s email. First, I’m impressed she managed to get in. Denton isn’t stupid. Second, I want to know what she was looking for, and what made her look in the first place. Only our conversation with Chase? Or something more? Asking would tip her off I know, and I want to keep that to myself for now.
There’s still no word about the plane crash. Now that I’ve surfaced, somewhat, from my grieving, I’ll start gaining headway there. Something has to break.
Nigel will come over from London to help me. That relieves me most of all. He’s sharp, and he’ll be able to tell me what in the hell’s been going on since the crash. Figure out why Denton and Cramer want to steer Maddox Industries in a different direction, and more importantly, how to stop them from doing it. So far, I’ve been able to remind them I’m in control and they’ve listened, but it will only last for so long. Two against one is never good odds, but two against two, now, that’s much more to my liking.
I text Ash and ask if he wants to get a drink. I don’t care when—Stella cleared the rest of my day.
He says tonight, and I reply, giving him a thumbs up. I should go back to the office. Even if Stella rearranged my schedule, there are things to do. Too many things.
I do go back to the building, but I go up to the penthouse instead.
For lunch, Lucille made bacon macaroni and cheese, my favorite, and I tuck into an enormous bowl. I haven’t eaten anything since dinner last night. I want to invite Stella to come up and eat and I pull my phone out of my pocket and type out a text, but at the last second, I decide not to. I’m putty in her hands, and I won’t be able to stop myself from asking her about Denton’s email and what she thought she was hoping to achieve. I hate I’ve been seeing her for only a few days and something is already threatening our relationship. I want it to go away.
Lucille says Zarah was here earlier, packing clothes, and I wonder if she’s moving in with Ash. I wish she would have talked to me about it first. I want her to be happy, but I don’t want to live in the penthouse by myself. I already feel too alone as it is.
I’ll ask Ash about it tonight.
I lie down to take a nap and feel guilty doing it. My father would never have wasted a Monday afternoon to sleep, but I’m overwhelmed and my brain has shut down. I miss my sister, and I miss Stella. I have a hard time falling asleep because I’m already used to her being in bed with me. She’s spoiled me in the short time we’ve been together.
I wish I didn’t know about her going through Denton’s email. I wish he hadn’t told me, and I don’t understand why he did. He didn’t demand I terminate her, and something like that is a fireable offense. Maybe he knows we’re in a relationship and wanted to spare me the task. Maybe, like me, he wants to know why. Maybe she found something and he wants to keep her in his sights, make sure she doesn’t do anything with the information.
A little sleep clears my head, and I meet Ash for a drink, not feeling too terrible.
Already sitting at a small secluded table in the corner, he’s on the phone arguing with the poor unfortunate soul on the other end. I approach, and his eyes widen. He spits, “Just get it done. You don’t want me to have to handle it myself.” Jabbing at the screen, he disconnects, and he picks up his drink, his hand shaking.
He’s looking stressed out, and I wonder what he’s gotten himself into that would ruffle his feathers. The rape allegations wouldn’t bother him. Anyone who has his position and wealth is a target, but it’s not anything a good attorney can’t make go away. Hell, when I was at Columbia, a girl claimed her pregnancy belonged to me, hoping I would buy her silence. It was all a ploy to get at my family’s money, and I let her drag it out on social media. The paternity test revealed I wasn’t her baby’s father and she slunk away, embarrassed and humiliated. She never contacted me again.
“You okay?” I ask, settling into my seat.
Blackmail and lies are nothing we’ve never encountered, so maybe it’s not a woman who’s gotten him riled up. If it’s not women, it’s business.
“Yeah. I just wish people could do their fucking jobs without me having to breathe down their fucking necks every five seconds. Can’t hire good help these days.”
“Problems at your strip club?” I gesture to the waiter, and he serves me a glass of my regular. The whiskey is smooth, and it glides down my throat. I relax and ask for another before I’m done with the first.
Ash narrows his eyes. “Why would you ask that?”
I shrug. “Out of all the things that could give you trouble, seems like that’s the most logical. Booze, drugs, sex. You have it all under one roof.”
I’ve never been too interested in owning a bar or strip club. The few times a lucrative opportunity presented itself, I shrugged it off. My father kept our business clean, buying up companies and helping them thrive instead of ripping them apart and selling them off piece by piece to the highest bidder. Investing in the people behind the business instead of stomping their missions into the ground.
Kindness made my father rich, now Denton and Cramer are taking shots at the reputation my father built.
An honest businessman.
Someone who had a heart.
I stand by that, and I will until I die.
“There’s potential for trouble,” Ash agrees, watching me down my drink, “but the club isn’t what’s bothering me right now. You?” He raises his eyebrows at my empty glasses. The waiter sets a third on the table, and I’ll nurse this one for the rest of the evening.
“Lucille told me that Zarah moved some of her clothes out of the penthouse. She’s going to live with you?”
Ash’s face evens out, and light shines in his eyes when I mention my sister’s name. The son of a bitch really loves her.
“Yeah. You don’t mind? I hate saying goodbye at the end of the day.”
“I wish you would have talked to me about it, but that’s my selfish side. I’m glad she’s happy. I’m going to miss having her around.”
“It was kind of a sudden thing. Like you and Stella. She started working at the office and...I like being near her.” He leans forward, his face earnest. “I’m glad you wanted to get together. I’ve been wanting to ask you something for a while now.” Ash blows out a breath, and he bounces a leg in agitation. Nothing makes him nervous, and my blood pounds. Whatever makes Ashton Black anxious should scare me shitless. “You might think I’m crazy, and maybe I am, but...I love her, Zane. You’re like a brother to me, and Zarah, well. Can’t live without her, and I don’t want to try. With your permission, I’d like to ask her to marry me.”
I open my mouth to say...what, I have no fucking clue, but Ash bulldozes over me.
“We’ll have a long engagement. A couple of years at least. She’ll be twenty-one soon, and if we wait until she’s twenty-three, maybe twenty-four, it’ll be good for us. My dad warned me about that—marrying before we’re ready—but I love her, and if she’s wearing an engagement ring, maybe I can stop feeling like she’s going to disappear.”
He nervously runs his fingers through his hair and beckons the waiter for another drink. It appears promptly by his elbow before I can even process what he said.
Ash wants to marry Zarah. I suspected it, but not now. He’s right, though. Zarah will be twenty-one soon, and if they have a two-year engagement, and that’s how long they’ll need to plan an affair like that (Christ, it will take that long to iron out a prenup), she won’t seem so young.
I don’t say anything.
“I want to take care of her, Zane,” he says quietly.
I force a smile. I have no doubt Zarah will be safe in Ash’s care. He may have a dangerous edge, but he’ll use it to protect my sister from anything...and anyone. Holding out my hand, I say, “Congratulations. Well done.”
Ash erupts in a laugh of relief. “I thought you were going to say no.” He shakes my hand, his grip stronger than it needs to be.
There’s no point in saying no. Ash gets what Ash wants. Had I objected, it wouldn’t have meant jack shit to the man sitting across from me. That can be admirable, but it can also be a pain in the ass.
“I’ve always thought of you as my brother,” I say. “Now we will be.”
“My mother and father are pleased,” he says, and I fight a scowl. Last to know. “We’ll be merging the two biggest companies in King’s Crossing. We’ll be a force to be reckoned with,” Ash crows, a glow of victory on his face, and I bat away the suspicion he’s marrying Zarah to get his hands on Maddox Industries.
It wouldn’t be that simple. Their prenuptial agreement will be two inches thick and cost a fortune in our attorneys’ billable hours by the time I’m done, but his words set off a warning. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open. Nigel can help me. God, what a mess I’m asking him to take on.
“Yes, we will,” I murmur. The thing I can’t forget is Zarah’s happiness. She loves Ash—and I’m sure she wants to be his wife. That’s more important than anything else. “Thank you for the bodyguard.” They aren’t cheap, and Ash protecting Zarah comes at a cost.
“I worry about her. My father made a few phone calls, and there’s no news about the crash.”
“No. I’m going to talk to him about that at the party. It’s time to do some of my own digging.”
Ash nods in satisfaction. “I agree. Speaking of digging, I looked into Stella.”
I frown. “Why?”
“When you and Zarah introduced me to her at Temptations, her name sounded familiar. Did you know she grew up in foster care?”
“Yeah, we’ve talked about that.”
He sips his drink. “Did she tell you before that she was adopted?”
“No. How do you know?”
“That’s why her last name sounded familiar. Mayfair. It’s not common. We had a Gwendolyn Mayfair apply for a grant through our foundation, over twenty years ago. Apparently, we helped her adopt a baby girl.”
“Her adoptive mother passed away? That’s how she ended up in foster care?”
“It seems that way. Gwendolyn Mayfair was diagnosed with breast cancer a year after Stella’s adoption went through. A year after that, she was dead.”
I don’t understand. “Why didn’t this Gwendolyn woman make arrangements for Stella’s care? It sounds like she had time.”
Ash shrugs. “It could be Gwendolyn was seeking treatment and hoped she’d go into remission. That’s all I know. I’m sorry I gave her a hard time. I didn’t know her background. The next time I see her, I’ll apologize. She hasn’t had it easy, and I admire her for getting through it.”
“Yeah, she really is remarkable.” An idea shoots through my brain. “Stella has biological parents out there.”
Shaking his head, he says, “No. Her biological mother was a teenaged girl, and one night she was driving drunk and died in a car crash not long after the adoption went through. I don’t know her name, if she had any family, and if she did, where they lived. A friend who works at the courthouse told me all she could. The records are sealed, and even I can’t open them.”
I slump in my seat. “I don’t know if Stella knows about her adoptive mother, or her biological one for that matter. I don’t suppose it makes a difference now.”
“No, I don’t think so, either. Mainly I dug around because I was curious. You don’t hear the Mayfair name very often. That must be why it triggered something. Our foundation helps pay adoption fees and assists a few families a year. What are the chances you’d meet her?” he asks, thrumming his fingers against the tabletop.
“Maybe some things are just meant to be,” I murmur, but I rush on before Ash can call me a sentimental fool. He’s not one to believe in wishes and daydreams. “Stella’s going to meet Mina Forrester about declaring a charity to support. Perhaps she can work with your foundation.”
“That’s a good idea. We should talk about that soon.”
I come away from drinks feeling good but a little unsettled. The penthouse is empty without Zarah, but I don’t have the heart to tell her. If she wants to move into Ash’s apartment, I won’t stop her, but I feel like it’s too soon after the plane crash. Like I’ve lost not only Mom and Dad, but Zarah, too. And Stella getting caught going through Denton’s email shoves a wedge between us.
I wander around the penthouse. I should be working, get back the hours I wasted this afternoon, but why bother. I can’t do anything on my own. If Denton and Cramer hadn’t started their shit, I might have made some headway I could feel happy with. Instead, I’ve been wasting time fending them off. What I really should have done was ask for help sooner. They won’t listen to me. That’s fine. They’ll listen to Nigel.
The party’s in five days. The company will be okay until then.
I text Stella around nine o’clock and ask her what she’s doing. She replies she’s hanging up clothes—the ones she and Zarah bought were delivered.
I don’t want to be alone.
Can I bring some wine and dessert over? I text.
Of course. Are you okay?
Will be when I see u.
I hit every red light on the way to her apartment, and agitated and tense, I park in front of her building. I’m eager to see her, but Stella’s presence doesn’t give me the peace and joy it once did. In silence, we eat Lucille’s cake and sip on wine out of mismatched glasses she says she bought at a thrift store. They’re charming, just like she is.
We make love, and afterward, I hold her in my arms. I’m scared. I’m willing to overlook the things she’s done to keep her in my life. If I ask her about Denton’s email, I’m sure she would have a perfectly good explanation for it all, but she doesn’t offer to tell me on her own, and she falls asleep. I hug her, and she sighs, pressing herself closer. I’m so in love with her, she fills my every chasm, my every fissure.
Is this how Ash feels when he’s with my sister?
Like I could no longer live if Stella’s not with me.
I hope.
For Zarah’s sake.
As exhausted as I am, I listen to Stella breathe for a lot longer than I should.