Chapter 17
ZACH
It’s late, past ten o’clock, and the Stella offices are usually empty by now. Shame I forgot an important folder I needed.
Security waves me through. I walk towards my dimly lit temporary office.
There’s a low glow from the city lights filtering in through the windows, but the office lights automatically come on as I walk.
I rush in and grab the folder, but just as I’m about to leave, I see movement in the open plan area overlooking where I sit.
What the hell?
A figure skulks around quietly and some of the lights switch on. I catch sight of something familiar. My insides drop, recognition hitting hard, like an unexpected jab to my chest.
Maya?
What is she doing here at this hour? I don’t dare to breathe, and watch silently, my thoughts going in a thousand different directions. I blink when I see her heading towards Katherine’s office.
Why would she be going into Katherine’s office?
Is she a spy?
I freeze. I don’t know what to do. Uneasiness pricks me harder now, a restless, concern crawling beneath the suspicion. I don’t want to do this; catch her doing something, but I also can’t turn a blind eye and walk away. That would be reckless.
I walk towards Katherine’s office. It’s another windowed space, so I can see right in. The door is closed. The lamp is on, throwing a soft light into the room. I find Maya curled up on the small sofa near the window.
What is she doing? If she’s spying, if she’s up to no good, that wouldn’t make sense. That’s not Maya. That’s not the woman I know.
My chest tightens so sharply, I let out a fast, panicked exhale as I skulk in the shadows, filled with uncertainty.
She looks so small, lying there, folded in on herself.
It hits me somewhere deep and I don’t like it.
I see her shoes neatly placed on the floor and her folded jacket lying on the armrest. Everything about this tells me she’s not taking a nap.
She’s sleeping here.
A thousand thoughts crash into me at once. I can’t walk away. I just can’t. And then I remember that she wanted to leave early yesterday. Something was up, and she didn’t tell me what it was.
She’s in trouble.
That’s the only explanation for this, and now my shame burns deep, for thinking she was up to no good.
The door is closed, and her eyes are shut.
I knock softly. She bolts upright, looking scared to death, and staring at me wide-eyed as I open the door and step inside, every instinct screaming at me to make sure she’s okay.
But I also feel like an intruder. I have a feeling that she wouldn’t have wanted me to see her like this.
“Zach?” She sounds fearful. “What are you doing here?” She sets her feet onto the floor, and reaches for her jacket, like she’s preparing to sprint out of here.
“Hey,” I say quietly, engulfed by a myriad of emotions binding together: her leaving the Knight Estate quietly, and now lying secretly here, all alone, like she has no place else to go.
The thought shakes me to my core.
She quickly slips her feet into her shoes, looking like she’s getting ready to bolt.
“I was just taking a quick nap. Katherine’s office is the only one with a sofa …
” She looks away and swallows. She doesn’t lie, but there are little telltale things I know about her, that tell me when she’s being evasive. Like now.
“A nap?”
“I was working late.” Her voice is shaky. “I just needed to get some shut eye.”
It’s ten o’clock, and if she were working late, she’d be at her desk.
“In Katherine’s office?”
“I’m just tired.”
“Looked to me like you were settling in for the night.”
No comment.
“You know we have cameras here,” I say, hoping this might make her tell me the real reason why she’s here.
She stares up at the camera directly above the door.
I’m surprised she didn’t see it. It dawns on me then that these are the actions of someone who has no other choice. Someone cornered. Displaced. Stuck.
“What’s going on? Are you … are you sleeping here tonight?”
She huffs out loudly through her mouth. “It’s just temporary.”
“So, you were going to sleep over?” It doesn’t make sense. What happened? She was evicted? Couldn’t make the rent? How is she in this situation?
How did I not have a clue?
She blinks at me, looking like a petrified big-eyed doe caught in the headlights.
“Maya, it’s me,” I say softly. “I’m not going to tell anyone, but why are you here?”
“My apartment’s being fumigated,” she says finally. “The building management gave us forty-eight hours’ notice.”
Relief washes over me, followed by a sharp stab of anger. “That’s why you left early yesterday.” Why didn’t she tell me?
“Yes.”
“Is this your first night here?”
“No. My second.”
“You slept here last night?”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Jesus,” I mutter.
“I showered at the gym. I have a small change of clothes—”
“I can’t have you sleeping here.”
“I have nowhere else to go.”
She does. I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of her. The strength of my conviction startles me, but convincing her is going to be tricky.
“My roommate is staying at her friend’s.”
“And you didn’t have anywhere to go,” I say, my voice tight with emotion. Maya is always displaced, always not where she’s meant to be. I feel helpless, and angry, because she only had to tell me, and I could have helped her.
Her eyes flash. “My mom lives out of state. I know the security codes on this floor, and it made sense. I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone.”
Anyone. Including me. Her words land like a punch, sharp and hard, knocking the air out of my lungs. My God. Maya sleeping here in Katherine’s office hurts me in more ways than I am prepared for because it tells me how little she expects from anyone. From me. “I wish you’d told me.”
She meets my gaze, hard and unflinching. “And what would you have done?”
I don’t answer, because I hear my brothers’ voices again.
You moved too fast.
You did it for her.
I shake my head. “This can’t continue.”
She shrugs, like it’s perfectly acceptable. “It’s just tonight and tomorrow.”
“No,” I say. “That’s not what I meant. You shouldn’t have to do this. Not here. Not like this. I can’t have you sleeping on a sofa.”
“You can’t control what I do, Zach. I’m fine.”
I stand there, watching her. Her expression softens just a fraction, like she realizes maybe I’m trying to help. That small change in her demeanor undoes me more than her anger did. “I’ve got a place you can stay.”
She stiffens. “I can’t stay with you.”
“I didn’t offer for you to stay with me.”
She scratches her neck, looking sheepish.
“I would offer for you to stay in my apartment, it’s big enough …”
“Of course you would.”
But sneaking her into my apartment, risking Jett and Dex seeing her and concocting their own stories is something I want to avoid.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to be so ungrateful.”
“It’s fine. Maya, please.” I hate that it sounds like I’m begging, but I won’t have her sleeping here tonight. Why won’t she just listen? “I have a place, it’s empty. I just can’t go home knowing you’re going to be sleeping here.”
“Why does it matter so much to you?”
“Do you really need to ask me that?” I scoff.
“Why do you have an empty apartment?”
Questions, questions. Always more questions.
“It’s a ... rental property and I’m looking for a tenant.”
“You rich people, buying up all prime real estate and squeezing the little people out of renting,” she says bitterly.
“That’s what we do.”
“Of course you do. It’s the reason so many people can’t buy or rent because landlords like you…” She stops herself.
“Please,” I say, exasperation creeping in, edged with worry. “I’d sleep better, and I’m sure you would too, if you’d stay there. I’m not asking you to stay with me ...”
“How much is the rent? I can pay daily, if that’s okay—”
“You can pay hourly, if it makes you feel better,” I snap, then relent immediately. “I’m sorry. It’s late. We can’t spend all night discussing this.”
A soft cough interrupts us. I turn to see a security guard glancing at us, then pointedly at Katherine’s sofa. “Everything okay here?” he asks. “I’ll need to note that someone was in Ms. Pott’s office out of hours.”
Maya’s shoulders tense, and fear flashes across her eyes.
“That won’t be necessary,” I say smoothly, stepping forward without thinking. “She was working late on my instructions. I’ll handle it.”
The guard hesitates, looking unconvinced, then nods. “I’ll make a note you were both here.” His curious gaze lingers, before he leaves.
The damage is done. Maya exhales shakily, looking at me like she’s run out of options.
“You can’t stay here now,” I say quietly. “Not tonight.”
She swallows, then nods, then after a pause asks, “Are you sure it’s okay for me to stay at your empty apartment?”
“Do you trust me?” Our gazes hold.
It’s the same question I asked her years ago, when I told her to meet me at the boathouse in the early hours of the morning, when the estate was still asleep, so that we could catch the sunrise. She was scared, didn’t want my father to catch us. Didn’t want to cause any trouble for her mom.
“Y-yes.” She hesitates, and I can tell she has more questions, but she’s trusting me, and I won’t let her down.
She gets up and gathers her belongings. Then she asks if she can go to the washroom quickly.
I nod. Minutes later, we’re outside. I hold the door to my Porsche open for her.
Thankfully she’s too tired to tell me that I don’t need to do this.
As she climbs in, I tell her I need to fix a few things, so she sits waiting for me, while I pace outside making a few important last-minute calls.