Chapter Twenty-Two
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Zane
I n the back of the limo, I move Stella up and down, her pussy clenching at my cock.
I need the release, the calm she gives me being near.
A ball of fire burns in my gut, and I listen to her moan, my orgasm building. My finger nudges her tender flesh where my cock fills her, and she’s so wet. I rub her clit, and she grinds in my lap, taking me all the way to the hilt. I want to stay in the limo and fuck her forever.
She captures my mouth with hers, and our tongues tangle. She comes, and cum gushes out of her and coats my skin. One good thrust as her muscles quiver around me, and I follow, pumping her up and down on my cock to milk every last second out of both our climaxes.
I instructed Douglas to drive around the block until I told him otherwise. Amused, his eyes twinkled, and I pretended not to notice.
She’s so beautiful, and she’ll have every man looking at her tonight. At first, I was disappointed she cut her hair, but she came out of our bedroom dressed for the party and I admitted the haircut suited her. The shorter style brings out her cheekbones, and she looks sleek and elegant, wearing a black dress and black satin high heels.
Stella licks at my lips again and rests her head on my shoulder. I cuddle her closer and revel in the comfort she gives me. I wouldn’t be able to do this without her, and it scares me how much I need her.
“I love you,” I whisper in her ear. We’re still joined and I don’t want her to move, but if Douglas circles the block again, someone will notice and we can’t be late.
She presses her lips to my neck. “I love you, too.”
“Please don’t ever stop.”
“I promise.”
It doesn’t feel like enough, but it will have to be.
I lift her off my lap and pull out. My dick’s limp, but I never need long to recover—not when Stella’s around. I pass her a tissue, and she wipes off while I clean up and throw the condom away. She’s settled and reapplying her lip gloss when I lower the divider and tell Douglas we can proceed to the hotel.
The night has been well advertised in the newspapers and on every gossip website, and the Lyndhurst laid out a literal red carpet. I don’t know if Zarah had anything to do with that or if the hotel’s manager took it upon himself, but it’s a nice touch and the guests love posing for the wave of paparazzi.
Douglas parks, and as he climbs out to open our door, Stella squeezes my hand. “You’ll do great.”
I kiss the back of hers, an old-fashioned gesture that stains her cheeks. She’s so fucking adorable, and she’s all mine. “Thanks.”
We step out of the limo to shouts and camera flashes. We smile, and I’m happy to see Stella isn’t rattled like she was the night in front of Temptations. She’s come a long way in the two weeks since I met her, fitting into my life with little difficulty.
I kiss her temple, and the press and paparazzi swoon. She beams at me, and I know that will be the shot on the front page of every newspaper and gossip site in the country. Happiness and love sparkle in her eyes—and she’s looking at me. There’s no way anyone would see that photo and not know how much she loves me, or how much I love her, too.
I don’t waste my breath answering the questions the sleazy reporters from the tabloids shout at us, and I blatantly ignore one slimeball whose byline regularly appears on the Truth or Dare website. Zarah invited a small, curated selection of respectable journalists to attend the party, and they’ll ask more pertinent questions. Real questions about the company and the direction I want to go. I’ll answer them as an adult, as a man stepping up to the helm of a multi-billion dollar legacy. After pausing for a few more moments allowing the paparazzi time to take the shots they want, I usher Stella into the hotel’s lobby. She didn’t wear a jacket, and she’s shivering.
Many of my father’s and mother’s friends and business associates greet me, and Stella stays by my side through it all. At one point, Zarah steals her away to introduce her to friends and acquaintances, and I head to the bar to breathe and grab a much-needed drink. I knew it would be like this, but I forgot how ruthless and demanding people can be when they think they deserve even a second of my time.
The scotch goes down smooth, and I ask for another. Someone comes up behind me and I stiffen, but it’s Nigel Wagner and I shake his hand in gratitude. “Nigel.”
“Hey, kid. Pretty fancy shit you got going on.”
“This is Zarah’s thing.”
“And a good idea. No one’s saying it’s not. Free food, free booze. The red carpet out front is a nice touch. Your girl is a real looker,” he says, nodding toward Stella. She’s standing across the room next to Zarah holding a champagne flute and talking to a group of women. Someone just told a joke, and they burst into laughter.
“Yeah, she is.”
“Good. Play that up.”
I want to go into all the bullshit I’ve been dealing with since I started going to the office, and Nigel knows, can see the impatience on my face. He nods at the bartender and tilts his head at me, ordering the same drink as mine. Casual. “Not here. Have fun, shake hands, and show everyone you’re steady and in control. There’s plenty of time to talk. I want to look over a few things before anyone knows I’ll be staying for a while.”
Before anyone can bury anything.
There seems to be a lot of that going around.
Nigel’s wife, Helena, joins us, and we chat about their hotel accommodations, Nigel courteously steering the conversation away from their flight. I can’t talk planes—especially the luxury private jet the Wagners flew on to the States. It requires a massive amount of willpower to keep a smile on my face and my parents’ crash off my mind.
Ash stares at us from across the room. He’s sitting at a table alone, his feet propped up on a chair. He’s sipping a drink and looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world, but his sharp eyes miss nothing.
“He’s like a shark,” Nigel says, accepting the drink the busy bartender poured him. “What does he want?”
Ash nods and lifts his glass, making no move to join us.
I lift my glass as well and then take a sip. “Seems he has everything he could want.”
Helena scoffs. “A man like that is never satisfied. His father taught him nothing is ever enough.”
“Darling, I do believe you dislike Mr. Black,” Nigel says, smiling.
“There is nothing even remotely redeeming about that man. I’m sorry,” she says, turning to me. “I know Kagan and Clayton were the very best of friends. Your father must have known a side of Clayton he doesn’t show to anyone else.”
My father didn’t suffer fools or cruelty, and all I can assume is Clayton’s public persona is darker than he truly is. He’s never been unkind to me and he always treated my mother with respect. That goes for Ash as well. He can be dark and dangerous, but in private, he cares, and he’s never shown me evidence to the contrary.
From experience, I know you can’t appear too soft or people will take advantage of you, or try to. My grieving period went on too long, and I should have done this months ago. Maybe even as soon as my parents passed away. I let my vulnerability show, and now I’m paying the price. I can only hope I didn’t bring Nigel in too late to repair the damage I did.
I look for Stella again, needing to see her face. She’s speaking to a very wealthy, and very single, Italian prince. He’s probably enjoying talking to her because I would bet the Maddox fortune she has no idea who he is. Prince Sergio Cardello doesn’t get the chance to be himself very often.
“Stella made a new friend.” Nigel smiles into his drink.
She has, but I won’t fall for Nigel’s bait. There’s nothing to be gained by being jealous. She’s mine, and everyone knows she is. I claimed her not two hours ago, and I will again after the party, over and over until she’s crying my name. My dick twitches as I think of opening her and pushing myself inside her welcoming heat.
I need her.
Helena starts in the direction of the restrooms, her dress’s hem swishing around her ankles. She strides across the ballroom, and Nigel excuses himself to speak to someone.
I grow tired of watching Cardello fawn over Stella, and I retrieve her, my hand to her back. She smiles at me, not a hint of guilt on her face.
Every day we’re together, I marvel she loves me back. She’s proud of me, and I want to keep living up to her standards.
I lead her onto the minuscule dance floor tucked into the corner of the ballroom and wrap my arms around her. She feels real and safe. Not the sexiest adjectives I could use to describe her, but my life is tumultuous at best and a fucking nightmare at worst, and her being someone I can depend on means a lot to me right now.
Though, I’ll have to tell Nigel Stella was snooping where she didn’t belong. I haven’t heard any more about it. The snooping, I mean. Denton could still be meeting Clayton behind my back, and it’s something else Nigel will have to help me sort out. I’ll owe him more than I can repay when this is done.
Denton and Cramer are here networking on behalf of Maddox Industries. Things have calmed down a bit there, but Nigel deserves the credit. I relaxed after I called him that day I visited the cemetery, and our meetings stopped being so volatile.
“Are you having fun?” I ask.
She lifts her head off my shoulder, and her eyes are shining. “Everyone is so nice. Do you know the man I was talking to? He stopped me to compliment my dress, and his accent was so thick I could barely understand him.”
I purse my lips against the laughter threatening to spill out. Only Stella would comment on an Italian prince’s accent and not the billions of dollars at his disposal or the real crown he wears.
The music fades, and the tone in the room shifts. Cocktail hour is over, and everyone gradually moves to find their seat. I help Stella navigate through the throng of guests, and at our table in front of the room, I tuck her close to me. Also sitting with us are Nigel and Helena, Ash and my sister, Clayton and Willow, and two other couples who were close friends of my mother and father’s.
Stella looks over our place settings, her eyes widening in alarm, and I laugh. “Work your way in,” I say, gesturing to the silverware.
Zarah blushes. She overlooked the need for etiquette lessons, but Stella can hold her own and I brush off any worry. Ash catches my eye, and he smirks. I thought he was more forgiving of Stella’s lack of sophistication after finding out the details of her background, but apparently it softened him by only a scant degree.
Stella relaxes, but she picks at her quinoa salad. I agree it isn’t that appetizing, and I engage Helena in conversation instead of eating mine. I’ve always liked her, and she’s giving up a lot to spend the foreseeable future in the States. I’ll ask Stella to show her around the city. Helena’s lot more down to earth than other women in our circle, and I think Stella would enjoy her friendship.
Between the salad and main course, Clayton pushes his chair back, and as the featured speaker, takes his place behind the podium.
The party guests lower their voices to a murmur, and beside me, Stella stiffens.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Clayton starts, and the crowd quiets even more.
I rub my thumb over Stella’s knuckles. I love she wears the ring I gave her. It sits on her right hand, and I wish it were on her left, but we’re not ready. I’m not ready. That she loves me and accepted my promise to love her forever will have to be enough for the next little while.
“First, I want to thank you for coming tonight to support the son of my dearest friend.”
Ash lifts Zarah’s hand and kisses the inside of her wrist. She smiles at him, and they stare at each other like they’re the only two people in the room.
Clayton Black makes an imposing figure standing before us. His hair is dark, his features sharp, his tux crisp. He holds everyone’s attention. Even the servers pause to listen.
He bows his head and pauses a moment, and from where I sit, I can see his Adam’s apple bob up and down in grief. “I have never been so shocked, so distraught, as when I heard of the plane crash that took the lives of Kagan and Lark Maddox. All my life, Kagan was my closest friend, and losing him was like losing a brother.” Clayton clears his throat and sips out of a small bottle of water someone placed inside the podium.
“Even though Maddox Industries and Black Enterprises are, in reality, rivals in a shrinking market, Kagan and I never treated each other in any way than what we were—best friends.
“I’ve had six months to process the loss, and it hasn’t been near long enough. A year won’t be enough. Ten years. Twenty. When God took Kagan and Lark, He left a void that can never be filled. That’s why I stand in front of you today, at the request of Zarah Maddox, whom I love as if she were my own daughter, to praise Kagan’s son, Zane, and the tremendous amount of courage he has to take over his father’s legacy.”
Zarah flashes a smile at me. Stella squeezes my hand. Ash lifts a glass of champagne to me in a toast, and I nod in return. It humbles me I have so much support. People who want to see me become the success my father was. To be the one to steer Maddox Industries into the future.
“Zane and Zarah,” Clayton continues, “you and my son, Ash, have grown up together, and I hope that you have the close friendship that I had with your father. Please know that you can come to me for whatever you need, and that need cannot be too little or too great. The knowledge that I can be of assistance to you both eases the sting of losing your parents. Not much, but some.”
“Thank you,” I say, and Clayton doesn’t so much as hear me as reads my lips from the dais.
“Let’s share a toast now, to Zane and Zarah. May the pain of losing your parents fade, and the memories of those two extraordinary people always live on in our hearts. Zane will continue Kagan’s legacy through Maddox Industries, and I couldn’t be prouder. To Zane and Zarah.”
“To Zane and Zarah!” the guests echo, raising their glasses to me and my sister, and her cheeks color a delicate pink.
“On that note,” Clayton says, ending his speech, “my son has a few words, and then we’ll let you continue on to the meal. I don’t know about you, but I smell something good in here.”
The crowd laughs. Clayton is rarely jovial, and the unexpected banter lightens the room.
Ash kisses Zarah’s cheek.
Stella straightens, her senses on high alert.
Ash stands and joins his father on the platform. They clap each other’s backs, their hands fisted between them, and my throat burns. I miss my mom and dad more than anything in the world. Only Stella’s warm palm on my thigh eases the tightness in my chest.
An air of confusion drifts around the room as Ash stands behind the podium. No one knows what he has to say.
Willow kisses Zarah’s cheek. She must be glad Ash is marrying someone she likes. As far as I know, Zarah and Willow have always gotten along. It would have been easy for Ash to choose a spoiled, selfish woman whom he could never please. I’ve met one a time or two. They try to hide the greed, but eventually, it always comes out.
Our parents raised Zarah and me to be grateful for everything, and they never let us take anything for granted. I don’t think Lucille would have, in her own way, adopted us after our parents’ deaths if we’d treated her as a servant and nothing more.
Ash begins to speak. “I’m sure you want to know what I have to say that my dad didn’t. Trust me, there is nothing I could add that would sound better or be any more sincere. Kagan Maddox was like a father to me, and Lark, I can’t say she was like a mother, because that would make what news I have to share sound rather disturbing.”
Our guests get it then, and excitement bounces around the room.
“I was only five when Zarah was born, but even then, Zane and I were best friends. One afternoon my father and Kagan needed to discuss something, and he brought me to their penthouse. I remember Lark carrying a bundle wrapped in pink into the living room. I’d never seen a baby before, and I was so scared when Lark asked if I wanted to hold her. I was too terrified to say yes, but I wanted to, so badly, my little five-year old heart just ached with it. Lark—she was an intuitive woman—knew, and she had me hop onto the couch. She settled Zarah in my lap, telling me in that soft way she had to keep my arm under her head, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Zarah’s delicate little face. Then she smiled at me, and well, look at her now. Could you tell her no?”
The crowd laughs.
“I lost my heart to that little infant that day, and I’ve spent the past twenty years waiting to ask her the question I asked her two days ago. I asked her to marry me, and she said yes.”
Everyone in the ballroom starts swooning, only Stella stares down at her empty place setting.
“Come up here, baby.”
Zarah navigates the stairs to the dais being careful not to step on the hem of her dress. She looks regal and elegant in dark red, her hair straight down her back the way our mother wore hers. Ash gently pulls her into his arms and kisses her, holding her like she’s made of glass. I don’t know how Stella can look at them and not see how much he loves her.
“The night you said yes, you made me the happiest man on earth.” He’s speaking to her, but the microphone attached to the podium catches his words and floats them over the ballroom.
There’s not a dry eye in the entire room.
“You better treat her right, you scoundrel,” I call, and everyone hoots.
Ash sweeps Zarah off her feet and carries her to our table. She buries her face into the curve of his neck.
A sense of elation and anticipation surrounds the tables after Ash’s announcement, the guests high on the good news and free booze. The waitstaff serves the main course, and the bartenders on both sides of the room are busier than ever. Everyone is in the mood to party.
During the meal, Helena and Stella chat, and she discreetly gives Zarah the eye across the table. My sister doesn’t react, only keeps her gaze on her plate and quietly eats her entrée. Clayton’s and Ash’s speeches have lifted my spirits and I dig in, enjoying the prime rib and twice baked potatoes. Stella’s right—there isn’t enough food.
Nigel and Clayton talk sports, and Ash occasionally throws in his two cents. I don’t care much about baseball, football, or soccer. Squash is something I play to keep in shape, and in the summer, golf will be a networking tool I can’t avoid. I used to play with my dad and his friends and business associates. Maybe I won’t have to do so much of it now that Dad’s gone, but knowing my luck, I’ll have to play even more.
Coffee and dessert are served, and I ask Nigel to trade seats with me. I want to talk to Clayton without having to raise my voice. Nigel narrows his eyes, but I shake my head. This doesn’t have anything to do with company business.
“Not here,” Clayton says, though he can’t know what I want to talk to him about. He leads me outside to the garden, and we’re alone except for someone standing in the shadows smoking, the orange tip of his cigarette glowing in the darkness. We wait until he snuffs out his smoke and returns to the hotel’s ballroom.
“What’s wrong? What can I do?” he asks immediately, leaning against the concrete balustrade.
I shove my hands into my pockets. My tux feels too tight, but I can’t take my jacket off, not yet. “The investigation isn’t going anywhere,” I say and stare over the garden. Light pollution hides the stars—there’s a pink hue hanging over the city.
Clayton nods. “I know.” His voice is cautious. Measured.
“I think it’s time to do a bit of my own digging.”
“I agree,” he says, “and I know someone who can handle it. I keep him on retainer, and he’s not on a job at the moment.”
“Thank you. I can’t wait until the trail is too cold. Every day that passes is a day evidence can be hidden or destroyed.”
“You’re right to think that.” Clayton lets out a breath and slumps. The public persona Clayton Black shows the world is gone and in his place is a man grieving his best friend’s death. “We may have already waited too long. I was hoping the FBI would be more competent, but that seems not to be the case. I’ll have my man on the first flight to Paris. The key is the airport. I’m sure of it.”
From what little I know, I agree, and relief hits me. Finally, we’ll have some answers. “Thank you.”
Clayton slaps me on the back the way I envied when he and Ash hugged on the dais. “I meant it up there. No matter what you need.” He pauses and then asks, “Nigel Wagner’s here. At your request?” He watches me.
“He’s a family friend.” That’s all I’m willing to say. Stella’s suspicious nature may not make me happy, but I won’t forget Denton and Clayton met behind my back. Tipping Clayton off Nigel will be helping me wrestle control of my own company away from my father’s business partners does not feel like it’s in my best interest.
“Of course he is.” Clayton smiles, and the tension is gone.
We go back inside, and Cardello has once again zeroed in on Stella.
“Better keep her close,” Clayton murmurs, slapping my back a little too hard and drifting into the crowd.
The servers cleared the tables and are refreshing tablecloths and flowers. The first half of the evening is over, and the second half, the ballroom opening to everyone who wasn’t invited to dinner, will begin soon. I have to give Zarah props for a job well done. Things have gone off without a hitch, and everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. We’ll get a lot of positive press out of tonight, and we’re going to need it.
At the bar, I wait for a bartender to free up and ask for a bottle of water. It’s hot in here, and resting the cold plastic against my forehead, I try to relax.
Stella and Cardello are still talking, but she disentangles herself and tries to cross the ballroom. Everyone wants to talk to her, and it takes her more than ten minutes to reach me.
“Let’s get some air,” I say. I’m feeling claustrophobic and need more than a bottle of water.
“Please,” she agrees, sighing.
I place my hand against her lower back, and we walk through the French doors. We stop on the concrete patio where Clayton and I stood only moments ago. There’s a light breeze, and it ruffles her hair around her shoulders.
“You are so beautiful,” I say, brushing my fingers over her bare shoulder.
“I hope you always think so.”
“I know I will.”
Kissing her, I cuddle her to me, and she leans against my chest. Her heels give her a couple more inches, and I don’t have to bend so far to keep her lips captive by mine.
I boost her onto the balustrade and step between her legs. Her skirt is higher in the front, and it gives me access to the treasure between her legs. I nibble her jaw, and my fingers seek out her tender pussy. She’s tight and wet, and I gently caress her, moving my finger in and out in languid strokes. It turns me on I have the power to make her so hot, and my cock hardens. I rub her clit, and she moans into my ear.
“We shouldn’t do this here,” she whispers.
“Too late,” I say, and I swirl my fingers over the sensitive nub until she tenses, bearing down on my hand. Pressing her face into my neck, she comes, shuddering.
“God, I love making you do that,” I say, straightening her panties. I move my hand from beneath her dress and lick the sweet cum off my fingers.
Her orgasm gave the apples of her cheeks a pretty pink color, and musk and perspiration scents her skin. I wish I could ram my cock into her right now, but we don’t have time. We’ve already been missing for longer than we should.
I cradle her face in my hands. Her eyes are bright, love and the promise of an amazing future brimming in the blue pools. I couldn’t agree more, and I nuzzle her mouth with mine. “I will always love you, Stella,” I whisper, a tidal wave of emotion clogging my throat. “Don’t forget my heart will always be yours to have and keep safe.”
She rests her warm palms against my cheeks. “I love you, Zane. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you, to be there for you.”
“That’s my girl. Come on. We better go mingle.”
“Let me use the restroom first. I’ll find you in a few minutes, okay?”
I’ll always miss her when she’s not with me, but I know she needs to clean up. Stella comes hard, and her panties are soaked.
I press a hard kiss to her lips. “Be quick.”
Holding the door open, I watch her scurry across the dance floor toward a corridor alongside the ballroom. Ash and Zarah are gone, probably having a quickie like Stella and me.
A gaggle of giggling girls surrounds Sergio Cardello, but his eyes roam the ballroom searching for someone else. I bet I know who, too.
Clayton and Willow are standing across the ballroom near an ice sculpture replica of our building. They’re speaking to Delilah Cook, the wife of Minnesota’s Republican senator Rourke Cook, Vance Huxley, King’s Crossing’s mayor, his wife, and a few other big shots. Zarah went all out in more ways than one.
At our table, Nigel and Helena sit with two couples who have just arrived.
I grab a fresh drink at the bar and join their group while I wait for Stella to come back.
She never does.