Chapter Nineteen
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Stella
I revel in Zane’s arms. He’s sleeping, and I kiss the corner of his mouth.
He looks younger than his twenty-five years, and I wish I could protect him. Protect him from Denton and what he plans to do with Clayton Black. Protect him from Ash. Protect him from the pain of losing his parents.
But I’m only a twenty-year old girl who has no family and a closet full of clothes that don’t belong to me.
His eyes flutter open. “Stella.”
“Good morning.”
“Is it?”
I know what he means. We aren’t enough for each other. I rest my hand against his cheek. He hasn’t shaved in a while, and I love how his whiskers feel against my skin. “Yes, but you know what makes it better?”
He wraps his arms around me. “Sex.”
“Coffee.” I laugh and scoot out of bed as he groans playfully.
In my tiny living room, the remnants of our cake and wine sit on the coffee table. We didn’t feel close last night, and that’s my fault. Even if he gets mad at me, I should tell him my suspicions about Ash mistreating Zarah, but I’m afraid of what it will do to us and I stay silent out of selfishness and fear.
I hear the shower turn on, and as he stands under the hot spray, I hand him a cup of coffee fixed the way he likes. He shaves, one of my threadbare towels wrapped around his waist, and I sit on the edge of the tub and watch him, a normal thing couples do, I guess.
It’s early, and he’ll go in to work ahead of me.
I don’t want to go to the office and see Denton. He scares me, and besides recording RSVPs, I still don’t have much to do. Following Harper’s instructions no longer appeals to me, but if I want to keep my eyes on Zane, I have no choice. That, and I kind of like having a job.
“What are you doing after work?” he asks, brushing his hair away from his face using my comb. His eyes are tired. He didn’t get enough sleep last night.
“Probably catching up in my classes and doing homework. I’m pretty behind. Mina and I are having lunch today to talk about foster care organizations and putting together fundraisers for them.” I follow Zane out of the bathroom and into my bedroom.
He takes a black suit out of a garment bag he hung on my closet door. “Do you know how you ended up in foster care?”
“My mother passed away. That’s it.”
“Do you have a copy of your birth certificate?”
I frown. “Of course I do.”
“Where were you born?”
“Here. In King’s Crossing. Were you?”
“Yeah. Your mother didn’t have any other children?” he asks, tying his tie. I want to help him because in the books I read, the heroines do it and I find it extremely sexy, but I can’t. I’ve never tied a man’s tie before.
“No. Social services tries to keep siblings together, if at all possible. I would have known if I had a brother or a sister in the system. You’re lucky you have Zarah.”
“I am.” He gives his tie a final tug. “Ash would like to see you. Maybe we can get together for dinner. He wants to apologize.”
For being an abusive prick? An apology will not persuade me to like him and I’m not eager to accept, but he’s Zane’s best friend and Zarah’s boyfriend. How much do I want to be a part of the Maddox family? Enough to tolerate Ashton Black?
I love Zane.
The choice is clear.
“That sounds good. When?”
“Maybe after the party. This week is too busy.”
“Okay.”
At least I’ll have time to prepare. I hate him, and I don’t want to see his weaselly face.
Zane kisses me goodbye, and he’s out the door by seven-thirty.
I shower and put on my robe.
After I pin up my damp hair, I sit on the edge of my bed holding a lockbox that has a few things in it that I can never lose like my social security card and a picture of my mom holding me in the hospital. I don’t know who gave it to me or where it came from. It seems like I’ve always had it. My social worker was kind—it could have been her. She retired the year I aged out of the system. She told me she wanted to live in Florida, and I wonder if she made it.
My birth certificate is printed on a large piece of paper, the size of a regular printer sheet. It’s a pretty ombré turning blue at the top to pink at the bottom and it’s textured because it’s an official document. It contains all my stats:
Place of birth: King’s Crossing, Minnesota
Date of birth: November 25 th , 2004
Time of birth: 12:06 AM
Hospital: King’s Crossing Regional Hospital
Weight: Six pounds, ten ounces
Length: Eighteen inches
Mother’s name: Gwendolyn Mayfair
The field where my father’s name would have gone is blank.
I don’t know why Zane asked. It’s strange—you can’t do anything without your birth certificate. I needed it to apply for my driver’s license. I have one, but I don’t drive. Maryanne helped me learn. She said even if I couldn’t afford a car, it was wise to know how, and having an ID is important.
I’m always sad whenever I think about my mom. I don’t remember her, and the woman in the picture is a stranger. The infant she holds means nothing to me. I can’t pick out my features from the little baby’s face, nor from my mother’s. I must look like my father, whoever, and wherever, he is.
Dressing in my new clothes should have made me feel good, but it doesn’t. Not as good as I would have felt had I been able to purchase them on my own. I choose a pretty, high-waisted skirt and a blouse that wasn’t made to go with it but still matches.
Applying my makeup, I keep my cell on the sink, mindful of the time. I’m just finishing coating my lashes with mascara when Zarah messages and asks if I have plans after work.
I don’t want Hector following me around, leering. Especially since he witnessed my panic attack and did nothing but antagonize me further. I should do what I told Zane I was going to do and catch up on my classes, but I tell her I’m free because I care about her and want to check in. All I can do is be a good friend and remind her I’m around if she needs me.
She says to meet her at the Lyndhurst at five-thirty, assuming I know where it is. I do, but I’ll need to leave work ten minutes early to have enough time to ride the bus. I gnash my teeth in irritation, but this meeting is work-related. We’ll be talking about Zane’s party, and I won’t let myself feel guilty because I need to leave before I’m supposed to.
Everyone on the executive floor is busy settling in for the day, and I sit at my desk and log into the employee portal. Harper has filled my inbox, and I get to work on those projects and checking off the RSVPs which have thankfully slowed down. I forget about lunch with Mina until a notification pops up on my computer screen reminding me of the event.
Crap.
If I’m going to be organized and keep track of Zane, I need to learn to keep better track of myself. I hope Mina isn’t as nasty as I remember, and I’m glad I wore something nice today.
I transcribe voice memos and recorded meetings all morning, and meeting Mina is a welcome break. Her eyes appraise me as the hostess leads me to her small table. The restaurant she chose is airy, full of light, and sunflowers sit on the floor in several expensive-looking planters. My heels click against the tile, and I feel sophisticated when everyone stops eating to stare at me as I walk to Mina’s table.
“Stella, you’re even prettier than I remember,” she says, smiling.
She’s more casual today, her red hair swirling around her shoulders, and her makeup isn’t as thick.
I remember what Zarah said the night we planned Zane’s party. I’m no longer Stella Mayfair meeting a friend for a casual lunch. I’m representing Maddox Industries, and I force a pleasant smile onto my face and warmth into my tone. “Mina. Thank you so much for inviting me,” I say, reaching out to shake her hand. She rises halfway off her chair, and we trade air kisses as she squeezes my fingers. I want to laugh at the absurdity. I’ll always have a difficult time pretending to be something I’m not.
She orders a bottle of white wine, and I can’t get over all these places that don’t check my ID. Not that I’ll have any. I’m working and I can’t drink.
“You’re interested in helping foster children?” she asks, pulling out a tablet. She doesn’t waste time trying to chitchat. I appreciate that—I don’t have anything to say to her.
I think it’s fitting, since I used to be one, and I briefly explain my childhood. “Kids go through a lot when they’re fostered. Many don’t have their own things, and even if they find a stable family, there’s not a lot of money to go around.”
She smiles her thanks at the waiter who serves her wine. I may have judged her too harshly, and I feel bad. Maybe because I was determined I didn’t fit in, I made myself not fit in. My cheeks pink with shame. Like Zane said, Mina didn’t judge me, and I shouldn’t do it to others.
“There isn’t an organization that’s specifically geared toward foster children, not here in King’s Crossing. There’s the United Way and Big Brothers Big Sisters of America,” she says, and I nod. I’ve heard of them. “We can certainly create a nonprofit, but it will be a few weeks before we can plan anything. With the holidays coming up, that’s not a bad thing. You know, February and March are so bleak. It will be nice to have something new to attend, and that will give us plenty of time to do some marketing, too. Chase can file all of our paperwork, and while we wait for a tax ID, we can do other little things like create a name and design a logo.” She sounds like she knows what she’s talking about, and on her tablet, she even begins the process by looking at the paperwork that needs to be filed with the IRS.
My head is spinning by the time the waiter serves our salads. I’m going to still be hungry after lunch, but I went along with what Mina ordered. She’s very knowledgeable, and she tells me about a few other charity events and holiday parties she’ll invite Zane and me to in the coming weeks so she can introduce me.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask, poking at a kale leaf.
“What do you mean?” She blinks her huge brown eyes.
“I mean, do you include all the assistants? Does Harper go to these things because she’s Mr. Denton’s assistant? Did Mr. Maddox’s executive assistant sit on committees, too?” I try not to sound defensive. I straddle the fence between my real life and this one, and I don’t know which side I’ll land on when I finally fall off.
“Lark, I mean, Mrs. Maddox, was a chairperson for almost every charity in the city. If you and Zane are going to be in a relationship—work-related or otherwise—you should be a part of a committee or two, as well. It’s the fastest way to get to know everyone, and you’re doing something good with your time. It’s a win-win situation for you, Stella.”
“Then I would have been invited either way.”
“Well, we don’t pull just anyone off the street,” Mina says. “You’re associated with Maddox Industries. You have connections, or at least, you will. Why not use them? But you’re right. You don’t have to be wealthy or connected to champion a cause. You don’t have to start a nonprofit for foster children with me. You can go ahead and do what you want on your own.” She tilts her head.
“What if Zane and I break up, or I lose my job?” I’m making this difficult, but I can’t stop myself.
“Ah. I see. Well, I can’t lie. You wouldn’t want to still be part of a committee then, would you? Lark and Kagan met young. They were still madly in love when they died. Whenever they were together, everyone could see it. You and Zane could have many years of happiness ahead of you. There are no guarantees.”
“That’s true.” I wanted Mina to tell me I’ll always have this life, but she can’t. I move the conversation off myself. “Is Zarah involved in charity work?”
“She and her mother worked on quite a few committees together. Isn’t she teaching you how to plan a party like Zane’s gala? She’s very efficient and good at what she does.”
I nod. “What did she work on?”
“Lark loved animals, and children who have disabilities had a place close to her heart. She and Zarah were a large part of the huge no-kill shelter that was built on the south side of the city and the learning center for autistic children that opened last year was her idea. That was a real boon for King’s Crossing. There isn’t anything else like it in the entire country. Now that Zarah’s working at Black Enterprises, she might decide to give her time to one of the foundations they’ve created. They support education, adoption, and small business. Clayton loves a good start-up, since Black Enterprises used to be one.” Mina smiles.
Her words float by me until she says that.
“Adoption?”
She sips her wine. “Chase says that foundation receives the most grant requests than any other. Adoption costs are expensive, but it doesn’t stop there. The foundation offers adoption services, too. Ash can be an ass, and Clayton Black can be just as cold as his son—where else did Ash learn it from?—but Black Enterprises does good work in the nonprofit sector. They help thousands of people a year.”
I find it interesting Black Enterprises provides adoption assistance. My opinion on adoption is messy and confusing. I waited all my life to be adopted, and I never was. I wouldn’t resent any child his or her parents, but I’ll always be sad I didn’t grow up belonging to a family who chose me.
We finish eating lunch, and Mina air kisses me again. I try not to grimace. “I’ll be in touch, and of course, see you at the party.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
I sit quietly at my desk for the rest of the day. I don’t see Zane, but I feel more secure about us since he spent the night. That insecure feeling won’t completely go away—I’ll always feel like I’m not good enough. It’s something I need to work on or I’ll start believing my own lies. I’m good enough for Zane Maddox. I’m good enough for anybody.
Frowning apologetically, Harper dumps a pile of folders in the inbox sitting on my desk right before I leave. “I know you’re heading out to meet Zarah, but I wanted you to have these now. I need you to work on them first thing in the morning. You’re so quick, I don’t mind telling you I need them done by five.”
I get my back up and I’m ready to accuse her of spying on me, but I deflate before I embarrass myself. She looked at my calendar. I blocked off my meeting because I wanted everyone in the office to know I had a legitimate excuse to leave early.
I’m starting to feel paranoid, and I berate myself. No one is out to get me. “Thanks. It won’t be a problem and I don’t mind. I feel like I’m not pulling my weight.”
“You’re doing great. Things will go back to normal.” Her face falls. “About as normal as things can get without Kagan and Lark around. I mean, after the party, hopefully things will...” She fades off and bites her lip. “Zane’s working hard. Richard and Larry are impressed with the work he’s put in since he’s come back. Once Zane decided to jump in, he didn’t waste time. Have fun at the Lyndhurst. It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
A sleek black town car is parked near the sidewalk outside the building, and the driver stands near the back door, his hand resting on the handle. Trotting down the stairs, I ignore him, mentally running through the bus route. It’s a long one. “Miss Mayfair,” he says loudly, interrupting my thoughts, “Miss Maddox asked me to drive you to the Lyndhurst.”
Feeling horrible, I skid to a stop. I’ve been crabby with Zarah all day for expecting me to ride across the city on the bus. I’m just as bad as the rich snobs in King’s Crossing.
No, worse.
I’ve prided myself on being friendly, kind, and humble. Maryanne taught me that no matter how bad you have it, someone else always has it worse, and I use that to remind myself to be grateful for the small blessings in my life. Now I’ve turned the snobbery to those around me because I think I’m better than they are for the way I had to grow up. It’s obviously not true, and Zarah proved it the night she shoved a hundred dollar bill into my pocket to reimburse me for the meals I didn’t have to pay for.
“Miss Mayfair? Would you like a ride to the Lyndhurst? Or do you have another means of transportation arranged?” he gently prods.
The driver is dressed in a crisp suit and jacket. He’s older, his hair flecked with grey, and his eyes are kind. He opens the door, inviting me into the car.
“Thank you. That’s very nice of her.”
“She said she wanted you to arrive at the hotel safely. I’m Douglas. If you need anything, just ask.”
I climb into the car and he firmly shuts the door. He rounds the hood and settles behind he wheel, and I lean forward and rest my shoulder against the back of the passenger seat. “How long have you worked for the Maddoxes, Douglas?”
He turns slightly to address me but still keeps his eyes on the road. “Mr. Maddox, Kagan Maddox, hired me twenty-five years ago, and I’ve been driving for him and his family ever since.”
“I wish I would have been able to meet him,” I say, though if Zane’s father were still alive, I doubt I would be where I am now. Zarah toured the company looking for her place, and she wouldn’t have done that had her mother still been alive to guide her into adulthood.
“You remind me of Mrs. Maddox. God rest her soul.” Douglas turns his eyes to the road and doesn’t speak again until we reach the hotel.
He double parks in front of the Lyndhurst and helps me slide out of the car. The hotel is an elegant stone building that sits off the street and the stories loom above me, too high to count. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, my dear.” He sits behind the wheel and drives away, the traffic swallowing the black car as he merges into the stream of vehicles.
Because of the unexpected ride, I’m fifteen minutes early, but when I step into the lobby, Zarah’s already waiting, texting on her phone.
The Lyndhurst Hotel is the most luxurious building I have ever been in, and the chandeliers, high ceilings, flowers, and gold trim take my breath away.
It’s easy to forget Zarah and Zane own this building and employ every single person who works here. It’s no wonder the pressure that comes from taking control of Maddox Industries eats at Zane. It’s not only his company he’s responsible for. It’s all the other properties around King’s Crossing. I can’t imagine how many there are.
I don’t know why Zarah isn’t going to college and learning how to step into her mother’s shoes at the company like Zane is his father’s. Why is she wasting her time with Ash when she should be doing everything she can to help her brother?
Zarah sees me and waves me over. “Hi!”
She looks better than the day we went shopping. Her skin glows, and her dark hair is parted down the middle and falls in a smooth sheet down her back. She’s wearing her fuck-me shoes again, and I’m beginning to think she just likes to wear them. My own feet are taking a beating since I started my position as Zane’s assistant. In payroll, I didn’t need to walk anywhere but to the bathroom and occasionally to Simon’s office.
I blow out a sigh of relief and hug her—an embrace she returns. “Thank you for sending Douglas to pick me up. I left early to ride the bus.”
“You’re welcome, and I’m glad it worked out. We have a lot to do. Come on.”
“Where’s Hector?” I don’t see the hulking bodyguard anywhere, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t skulking around somewhere.
Zarah waves a hand. “I don’t know. He said he would wait.”
“How are you?”
Her smile trembles, revealing a chip in her cheerful fa?ade. “Good. Busy. Ash is teaching me so much. I love it.”
I try to infuse sincere excitement into my voice. “That’s great!” I say, but I don’t like how closed off she sounds whenever she mentions Ash. Like she’s keeping a secret.
She leads me through the hotel, and the glamour of the building jerks my attention away. We stop at an enormous ballroom that’s already decorated for an event. A huge crystal chandelier hangs in the middle of the high ceiling, and colored lights make the room glow a muted purple. The tables are elegantly set, the fine china and cutlery sparkling, and there are flowers everywhere.
I gasp. I’m allowed to stand here, and I feel like a princess. “This is amazing.”
Zarah smiles indulgently at my awe. “It is. On the night of Zane’s party, the space will look similar to this, but we won’t have the lavender lights. How are the RSVPs coming along? While we’re here, we’ll give the banquet manager a tentative headcount. After I introduce you, it will be your responsibility to keep her informed. I want you involved as much as possible.”
“So far, there’s only been one decline, and that’s due to health issues.” Someone’s wife had a baby, and the delivery had been difficult. She’s still healing, and they’re staying home so she can rest. As I explain, her gaze sharpens.
“Look up their mailing address and send them a gift. Contact Mon Petit , it’s a baby boutique in King’s Crossing, and order them something on behalf of Maddox Industries.”
“I can do that?”
“Yes. You don’t need permission, but if you feel strange doing something like that on your own, you can always run it by Harper first. We have an expense account for that kind of thing, and she can show you how to order and file the purchase. Extend our sympathy and well-wishes.”
“How much can I spend?”
Zarah shrugs. “Whatever you need to send a tasteful gift. It’s not a big deal.”
I pull out my iPad and start jotting down notes, my stylus flying across the screen.
She introduces me to the banquet manager and her assistant who are in charge of the event, and we sit at a conference table in a small meeting room that looks out to a garden at the back of the hotel. We go over the schedule again: the private cocktail hour, the dinner, the public cocktail hour that will conclude the evening. For forty-five minutes, Zarah and the banquet manager politely bicker between seafood and beef that will be served as the main entrée. I scribble notes like crazy in case I’m ever put in charge of something like this alone, and make no mistake, I know at some point I will be. The guests will have a beef option (Zarah won), a vegetarian option, a vegan option, and a gluten-free option to choose from. The list of accommodations seems to go on forever, and Zarah sighs. “Everyone is special,” she says, rolling her eyes.
Everything sounds delicious, and my stomach rumbles.
“Would you like to try the main course? It’s being served tonight, and Chef can give us samples,” the banquet manager says, glancing at me and pushing back a smile.
“Sure.” Zarah slips off her jacket. “Afterward, we’d like to speak to the mixologist on staff. I think a signature drink would be fun.”
“Of course, Miss Maddox.”
The banquet manager speaks into her walkie-talkie and requests a server to bring two of the main courses to our meeting room.
When the meals are delivered, shining silver domes covering the plates, she and her assistant leave to see to other things. “If there is anything else we can do for you, please ask.” She hands me a business card. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Mayfair, and it will be a pleasure working with you.”
“Thank you.”
They leave us in silence, and I lift the lid on my plate.
The beef melts in my mouth, and the potatoes are so creamy I don’t need to chew before I swallow. The meal is delicious, but it’s not enough to fill my stomach after the meagre lunch I ate during my meeting with Mina. It’s just another thing I have to get used to associating with the upper-class of King’s Crossing. Everyone is on a diet.
“This will do,” Zarah says, pushing her plate away after only a couple of bites. She laughs at my empty plate. “Come on, let’s go drink. I need one.”
The bar is just as glamorous as the ballroom, and we sit and talk to a mixologist who tosses around ideas for a one-of-a-kind cocktail. She asks Zarah what her brother’s preferences are, and she says Zane is a chocoholic, something I didn’t know. I’m embarrassed, learning something so simple about him I should have discovered it on my own. The mixologist concocts a white chocolate martini, and because of the season, adds a dollop of whipped cream and a sprinkle of pumpkin spice.
I don’t particularly like it, but Zarah downs hers and nods in approval.
The vodka hits me after I finish mine. To be polite, of course.
“Before we tour the rest of the hotel, I’ll introduce you to the registration staff. Our guests may have questions about their accommodations, and if they ask you a question you don’t know the answer to, you can put them on hold, call the hotel, and find out what they need to know.” She pauses. “I hope you don’t feel like this is too much.”
I do, but I would never admit it. I want her to be able to trust me. She asked for help, and I can’t let her down.
She introduces me to the staff I’ll be working with from now until the end of Zane’s dinner. Several of the guests will stay at the hotel, and we go over the block of suites that has been set aside and the amenities the rooms offer. Everyone is extremely nice and patient, and no one seems bothered by the fact I’m a twenty-year old girl who’s living on the wrong side of the tracks.
They respect me because I’m with Zarah Maddox. No, scratch that. They respect me because I’ve been linked to Zane in the news, and everyone I meet already knows me as...what did the woman at Donna Karan call me? Zane’s girlfriend of the moment.
No one would complain except me. I was raised to make it on my own, and I’m only in this position because Zane took a fancy to me while his sister and I drank wine and ate cheesecake the day she toured payroll. I try not to be resentful. An opportunity is an opportunity, and what you turn it into is what counts. I sound like Maryanne, but she’s never wrong.
The head of housekeeping lets us peek into a couple of the suites so I can get a feel for where our guests will be staying. We explore one of the enormous executive suites, and I love gazing out a wall made up of floor-to-ceiling windows. I don’t remember what floor we’re on, but I can look over downtown. In the distance, the Renegade River glimmers in the sun, and the outline of the industrial park where Quinn works spews smoke into the sky. The carpet is plush under my feet, and even the air smells rich, understated, and regal. In the bedroom, a gauzy canopy hangs from the four posters of a king-sized bed, and connected to the bedroom, there’s a bathroom that’s as big as my living room. I couldn’t guess how much it costs to stay in one of these rooms for a night.
Zarah’s kind, letting me get accustomed to the suite and everything in it, but it’s also because she doesn’t want to leave. Sinking onto a cream loveseat in a conversation area in the sitting room, she presses her lips together. She’s trying not to cry.
I search the bar and pour us two lowball glasses of whiskey. I’ll let the housekeeper know she’ll need to replace the bottle and refresh the glasses, but I’m getting used to the idea that when I’m with Zarah, I can do whatever I want.
“What’s the matter?” I ask, carefully setting a glass of the amber liquid on the table in front of her.
She doesn’t answer, and instead, digs into her purse and out of a small pocket inside, pulls out a huge diamond ring. Her hands shake as she slides it onto the ring finger of her left hand.
“Oh my God.” The rock must be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. I wouldn’t trust myself to wear something like that. Even though it must be insured to the hilt, I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.
Zarah lets out a watery laugh. “It’s something, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is.” I hold her hand and study the platinum ring. The diamond sparkles, and it’s hugged by little, I think they’re called baguettes, on each side. It sits on her finger like it was made for her, and it probably had been. “Congratulations.” My voice is flat, but Zarah doesn’t notice.
“Thanks. We’ll be announcing our engagement at Zane’s party,” she says, her complexion paling.
“Don’t you think you’re a little young to get married?” I ask, her hand gripping mine, the ring cutting into my skin.
She picks up the glass I gave her and drains the whiskey. “Ash promised me a long engagement. We’ll need one, anyway, to plan something as big as our wedding is going to be.”
I brush my hand over her hair. Zane never mentioned this to me. I wonder if he avoided it because he didn’t want us to fight over Ash anymore. Not that I can say anything. It’s none of my business whom Zarah marries, but... “Do you love him?”
She meets my gaze. Her irises are almost black and they glitter, but the tears in her eyes are anything but happy. “Yeah. I really do.”
She’s lying.
My time in foster care taught me how to spot a liar. I know when “I love you” is fake, I know when “I won’t hit you” is just a story adults tell so you won’t look scared of them in front of the social worker. I know “You’ll be able to stay with us for as long as you want” is one of the biggest lies of all because never in my history of being in the system was I ever able to choose where I wanted to go or how long I was able to stay.
“You don’t have to marry him if you don’t want to.”
She yanks her hand out of mine, stands up, and starts to pace. “What do you know? What do you know about my life? About what I can and can’t do?” Her pantsuit hugs her, and the hems of her pant legs hang fashionably to the floor. She looks like a businesswoman who could take over the world, except, I think she decided to wear pants because the bruises I saw on her thigh haven’t disappeared.
Her anger takes me off guard. “I know Zane would never expect you to do something like this. He’ll protect you. He’ll...”
“He’ll what?” she asks, hiding her face in her hands.
“You need to say something.”
“No. I’m fine. Really. I love Ash. I have since I was a little girl. You just don’t get how things are for people like us.”
I don’t. She’s right about that. And I will never be like them.
“Does Zane know, at least? You and Ash told him?”
“Ash asked for Zane’s blessing. Zane knows and approves, Stella.”
Of course he did. I don’t know why I thought Zane would have objected. Hasn’t he been defending Ash since I met him?
“Is there anything I can do?”
Zarah sinks onto the loveseat again, and she grabs my hand and squeezes as if I were a lifeline. “Be my friend?”
“I’m already your friend,” I say, but I didn’t believe it until just now.
She rests her head on my shoulder, and we sit in silence as darkness falls over the city. The housekeeper peeks her head into the room and asks if there’s anything else she can do or show us. We’ve been in here for almost an hour, and the reservation desk needs the suite. An impatient couple is in the lobby waiting to check in.
Zarah and I gather our things, and I apologize to the housekeeper, explaining we drank the whiskey in the bar and it needs replacing. She shoos us away, too busy to care about the extra work.
We step out of the hotel and into the warm fall evening, and Ash is waiting for Zarah near a shining black car.
Immediately, she steps into his embrace, and Ash shoots me a hard glare over her shoulder. He rubs her back and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. He whispers something into her ear, and without another look at me, she slides into the backseat.
Ash shuts the door, and I liken it to a jailer sliding her cell door closed. He steps up to me, and it’s all I can do not to retreat, not to run down the sidewalk and never, ever look back. “You couldn’t stay away,” he says, pushing his hands into the pockets of his dress pants.
God, he’s so formidable. Scary. Nothing like Zane and his boyish charm.
Ash is the epitome of danger, and my heart races in terror. He could hurt me, this man, and have no qualms about it. And there would be nothing I could do to stop him.
“Zane—” I start.
“Is in love with you. I know. And you love his money, I know that, too.” His eyes narrow.
“No! That’s not why—”
“Tell me what you were doing in Richard Denton’s email.”
I swallow. “You know about that?”
“Yes, I do. I know your every movement, Stella Mayfair. Zane is my best friend. You didn’t think I wouldn’t keep my eyes on you?”
“I love him, Ash.”
He heaves a sigh, and I think maybe I’ve gotten through to him. Finally. I’m not out to steal from Zane or use him to further my own ambitions. I fell in love, and I couldn’t stop it.
People rush around us, staring at Ashton Black, heir of Black Enterprises. A young woman and a group of her friends hurry by. She can’t pry her eyes away from him, and one of her high heels snags in a grate in the sidewalk. Her friends laugh as she bends over to free her shoe.
He doesn’t pay attention. He’s too focused on me, on the pulse in my neck that reveals how nervous I am. “I hope you do. If I find out you’re using him, I’ll ruin you.” Calmly, he turns, and his driver lets him into the car.
I’m left standing on the sidewalk, my hands clenched into fists in the pockets of my trench coat.
Nothing I do is private. Denton could have told Ash I was snooping, but I think somehow Ash discovered what I was doing all on his own.
Suddenly, I want nothing more than to see Zane, but Douglas is nowhere to be found and there’s no way to contact him unless I text Zarah and ask. It’s late, and she’s with Ash. I don’t want to disturb her because I want something so mundane.
I lean against the hotel wishing I had the guts to walk away. Walk away from Zane and Zarah and the messed up games they play. Walk away from whoever killed Zane’s parents. Walk away from Denton and Cramer and hide.
Only, it might be too late for that.
I’m stuck in the spider’s web, and the more I struggle, the more entangled I become. When did it start? The minute I looked into Denton’s email, or the day Zane and I made love in his office? When I accepted the job as his assistant, or further back still? The day I took the job in payroll?
When Simon asked if I would let Zarah shadow me, I should have said, “No, thank you.”
How was I to know how much Zarah’s friendship would cost me. Now I have no choice. Zane and Zarah need me. I can’t be the coward Ash thinks I am.
The buses are quiet at this time of night, but it’s still a half an hour ride and I get off at a stop a block away from Maddox Industries.
I never did see Hector, though I can’t shake the feeling someone’s watching me.
Standing on the steps where the press conference is going to be held, I text Zane and ask if he’s busy. He replies that he’s not, that he’s in the penthouse, and he tells me the security code to the private lift.
He’s waiting when I step out of the elevator, and he sweeps me into a tight hug, burying his face in my hair.
I’m trapped in this life, and I’ll never feel safe unless I’m wrapped in his arms.