Cruel Hearts (King’s Crossing #2)

Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

Zane

I may never be able to wrap my mind around what Stella has sacrificed for my family. She went with Ash thinking he’d subject her to the nightmare he made Zarah live. Sold to the highest bidder to be treated in whichever manner the pig thought his money entitled him to.

Don’t think I’ve separated myself from them because I’ve treated Nathalie better. I know I’m just as much of a scum as the men who abused Zarah, but my penance and punishment will have to come later. While I should have done something a lot sooner, my sister’s in the penthouse, safe, and no matter what I have to do, she’s going to stay that way.

Mel bursts into the office, surprised the room doesn’t look like a warzone. My cheek hurts like fuck, but I’m a stupid son of a bitch, and it’s what I get.

“Maryanne Wexler was shot by a young punk breaking and entering. The homicide detective I spoke to said they think he wanted money or was looking for something to fence to buy drugs,” she says, standing just inside the door. “A street cam helped the cops pick him up, and the gun on his person matched the bullet found during her...autopsy.”

“I don’t believe that,” Stella says, her hands clenched into fists.

“Being she’s connected to you, I didn’t, either. Unfortunately, whoever hired him covered their tracks, and he’s not talking...ever again. A deputy at the jail found him hanging by his belt.”

Tears run down Stella’s face, and I want to comfort her, but I don’t dare approach her.

Mel didn’t exonerate me.

“That doesn’t prove I didn’t hire him.” I need evidence I’m innocent or Stella won’t work with me. I want her to. I need her to. My chances of repairing our relationship are less than zero, I know that. She looks at me, but she doesn’t see me. I’m only a man who didn’t love her enough to believe her.

I’ll fight for Zarah. I think my sister will come back faster when Stella’s safety penetrates her drug-induced fog.

“I’ll keep digging. There’s a paper trail somewhere. I’ll look into family and friends. The officers at the jail. It could be he had help securing that belt around his neck.”

“Thanks, Mel.”

“Is that what you want me to work on?”

I pause.

She wants to crack Ash’s prostitution ring, and mixing the information Stella gave me about Zarah into it, Ash may have dirtied his fingers with more than only hookers and strippers. His side business could involve buying and selling women. Maybe children. I don’t know the fucked up things Ash is doing, and if we’re going to stop him, we have to do it right.

“I need Stella’s trust before we can work together.”

Mel wants to argue, but as a PI, she sees the value in tying Maryanne’s death to Ash. Another nail in his coffin when we’re ready to go in for the kill.

“Okay. I’ll keep working on it. In the meantime?”

“In the meantime, Stella needs to see Zarah. After all, it was Stella breaking into Quiet Meadows that started this whole thing.”

Stella slants me a dirty look.

Okay, she doesn’t think that started it. I guess for her it didn’t. Pushed onto the train tracks, someone on the roof of this building shooting at her...I’m fortunate she didn’t turn tail and run. It could be that’s exactly what she’d been thinking of doing. Checking on Maryanne to be sure she’d been okay these past five years, then disappearing into the night, knowing Ash would be hunting her for the rest of her life.

If Stella hadn’t cared so much about my sister, I would still be blind.

Stupid and blind. Oh, so fucking stupid and blind.

“I shouldn’t need much time, but an office and a computer would move things along.”

“I’ll ask Peggy to show you my old office. It will have everything you need. Eventually, we’ll need to meet up with my father’s former business partner, Richard Denton, the man who was in the car with Stella.” Mel nods, and I continue, “They’ve been working together. When it comes to the Blacks, the more resources we have, the better.”

“How big is this going to get?” Mel asks. “This isn’t a small-time prostitution ring.”

I want it to be. For as much as Ash has done to me, I don’t want him to be any worse than he is, but I’m going to have to let that go. Ash isn’t my friend.

I pause. “I don’t know.”

This may only scratch the surface of what he’s done, and what he and his father are capable of doing.

Mel walks out of my office, talking on her cell phone, and approaches Peggy. I trust her to be discreet. I already tipped Ash off pulling Zarah out of Quiet Meadows without his approval, and he and I haven’t spoken since I contested his power of attorney and won. It would be in my best interest to pretend all is well between us or he’ll close ranks and we’ll lose any leeway we have.

“Ready?” I ask Stella.

She won’t trust me until Mel clears me, and maybe not even then, but I’m counting on her love for Zarah to fill in until she knows my only crime is stupidity.

When Stella first showed up in King’s Crossing, rage overtook my common sense, but I’ll always love the woman standing in front of me, quaking from fear and exhaustion. Despite the shadows under her eyes and the tension that pulls around her mouth, she’s still beautiful.

She nods.

We go up in the private elevator. Too many memories. They’re years old, but they feel like yesterday, like I could reach out and touch them, if I could only wish hard enough. She stands as far away from me as she can, pressing against the opposite wall.

I pretend I don’t notice. I’m going to have to do a lot of pretending so she doesn’t know how much she hurts me. I don’t have the right to hurt.

The doors open, and I step out of the lift. Stella hesitates, but voices carry to us. Nathalie’s. Lucille’s. Ingrid’s.

Zarah’s.

She woke up from her nap and they’re in the living room, chatting.

Nathalie’s voice is thin and wispy. Full of fear like Stella’s. She’s risking her life on the belief I’ll keep her safe. I hope Stella can see we need her and doesn’t try to chase her off. Not out of jealousy. I’m stupid but not delusional. By telling her she can’t trust me. If Nathalie disappears, she’ll take all of the inside information she has with her. I should have warned Stella, but it’s too late now.

I wait for Stella to follow me, and it’s only a second after she clears the foyer that she’s running across the living room and into Zarah’s arms.

My sister’s standing by the window looking over the city, but the minute she’s holding Stella, she tugs Stella to the floor and buries her face in her hair. Zarah’s shoulders shake, but I can’t hear her sobs.

Uncertain, Ingrid sit on the couch, watching, and Lucille twists her fingers in anticipation. She missed Stella too, and wants to touch her, hug her, pull her close, just as badly as I do.

Stella and Zarah’s reunion breaks my heart. Zarah leans away and rests her hands on Stella’s cheeks, searching her face like she can’t believe she’s real. Stella embraces her again, and this time my sister’s laugh floats across the living room.

Leaning against the wall, I shove my hands into my pockets, feeling useless and out of place. I’m on the outside of my own family looking in. It’s stupid. Zarah loves me, but as we wean her off the drugs, she might hate me, too. The way Stella does.

Because I chose Ash.

Nathalie drifts away from the little group and lightly walks over to me. She’s wearing a...I think Zarah would call it a romper. The top and the bottom are connected into one piece. The top is strapless, and her hair brushes over her slim shoulders.

She sees me appraising her, and she smiles coyly until she catches the scratches on my cheek and her expression fills with fake concern. She’s not real like Stella, but she’s never been given the chance to be. Her survival depends on men wanting her. She thinks her safety depends on me wanting her, too.

“What happened to you?” she asks, reaching out to touch my face.

I tilt my head away. “Nothing I didn’t deserve. Don’t worry about it.”

Nathalie opens her mouth to argue but thinks better of it. “That’s Stella Mayfair,” she says, shifting her attention to the small group behind us.

Impatiently, Lucille kneels on the floor, enveloping both women in a tight hug. She’s always admired Stella. It doesn’t matter why Stella left—Lucille only cares she’s back. She trusts Stella’s explanation before she even hears it.

That’s faith.

That’s love.

I study Nathalie out of the corner of my eye. “How do you know?”

“I saw her. At Black Enterprises. Ash ordered me there for a cocktail party...and activities afterward. She works for Ash.” She pales. “Is she here to bring me back?”

Wrapping my arm around her trembling shoulders, I say, “No. Calm down. Ash was keeping her prisoner like he was doing to you. She worked there for several years until she managed to escape. He’s looking for her, but I’m going to keep her safe.”

Nathalie presses her face into my chest. She’s so skittish. We need to remain calm, and I’m afraid if Nathalie can’t hold it together, she’ll be a danger to all of us.

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you, too. I promise.”

Stella looks up from Zarah’s embrace and meets my eyes. Pain flashes across her face fast and sharp. She turns her attention back to Zarah, and I swear the temperature in the room drops fifty degrees.

Lucille stands, and beaming, she urges everyone into the kitchen. Food is the remedy of all that ails us.

I’m relieved Stella goes along. I know she’s hungry and she was too stubborn to eat with me. She’s been on the run for days, but after Lucille feeds her, we’re going to have to go. I need to say a few things to my father’s old business partner.

Meeting at the penthouse isn’t a good idea. We’ll need to find someplace else to hold our meetings. A safehouse. A place Ash would never think to look for us. I’ll remain normal, visible, go to work and maintain my social life. Ash is suspicious by nature, maybe because of all the secrets he and his father have to keep.

It will need to be business as usual for everyone involved.

“Are you going to be okay?” I ask Nathalie.

“Have you talked to Ash?”

“No, not yet. Do you have other . . . engagements?”

Nathalie bites her lip, and a pink stain creeps across her cheeks. “My handler texted me this morning. Vance Huxley is wondering where I am. He’s been requesting me, and that’s why I thought Miss Mayfair was here to bring me back. I can’t belong to you, Zane.”

“No, but you don’t belong to Ash, either. After all this is over, you won’t belong to anyone. Ever again.” I nudge her away. “Go into the kitchen with the others and eat lunch. Stella and I are leaving soon.”

Her arms tighten around me. I know what I’m asking her to do, and I’ll try to keep my patience. Not every woman I know can be as fearless as Stella.

“Go, please.”

Reluctantly, she walks toward the kitchen, her steps slow and hesitant. A low murmur of voices and soft laughter drifts out when she pushes through the hinged doors. It brings me back to the night Zarah brought Stella home, and I found them drinking wine and eating cheesecake.

I’ll always be on the outside.

I trudge up the stairs to my room. It’s tempting to strip off my clothes, crawl into bed, and hide from all this crap, but I don’t need anyone to tell me I’ve already done that for the past five years and my time to hide is over. I can’t be as fearless as Stella, but I need to do better than what I’ve been doing.

I call Ash.

“Black.”

“Hey,” I say, keeping my tone light, friendly.

“Hey.” He’s guarded—he doesn’t know what my mindset is.

I struggle to play it cool. “Ash, man, I need to ask you something.”

“Did Stella show up?” His voice is flat.

It would be like Ash to have my building watched. It’d be like Ash to plant people on the inside. I’ll need Mel to sweep my employees.

Shit.

That’s too much busy work when there are more important things she needs to do, but I can’t trust anyone else.

“No. Haven’t heard from her. I think she and Richard Denton are hooking up. I saw on the news someone pushed them into the river close to the industrial park. He might be giving her a place to stay, and he probably wants to pay me back for cutting him out. Have you seen her?”

I pace my room. It’s immaculate. Lucille keeps it that way. My bed is perfectly made, nothing out of place. Sometimes I miss a little clutter. Pumpkins decorated with glitter. Rumpled dresses on the floor. Mussed up sheets. Lipstick staining coffee mugs. A bathroom damp with steam from two lovers showering together.

“No.”

It’s all he says, but I barrel forward. I don’t want to keep Ash’s attention on Stella. The less he thinks of her, the safer she is.

“I need your help.”

“What can I do for you, Zane? You know if you need something, all you have to do is ask.”

I don’t like kissing Ash’s ass, but I say, “I appreciate that, I really do. I’m calling about Nathalie. We’ve been together since dinner last night. Ash,” I swallow, the lie a huge stone in my stomach, “I’ve fallen in love with her, and I want to marry her.”

Ash laughs, long and sincere. “Men like us don’t fall in love with whores.”

“She’s not a whore, not to me. I love her, and I want her to move into the penthouse.” I pause. “I’ll pay you.”

A movement catches my eye, and I turn. Stella’s standing in the doorway to my room, white as a sheet.

Goddammit.

Ash is silent.

He thinks about my offer, and I place a finger over my lips urging Stella to be quiet.

“How much are you willing to part with?” he asks.

My answer is quick. “Two million dollars.”

“Done.”

“Thank you.”

It shames me that a man I counted as a friend could so easily put a price on a life.

Ash bursts out into an incredulous laugh. “You were serious? What the hell are you thinking? Nathalie works at the club and was doing me a favor. Though, I hardly think fucking you is a hardship.” His laughter dies. “What has she told you?”

“Nothing. It’s my mistake. I thought—”

“You thought what?”

“I just thought since you introduced me, I could help you somehow. She saved me after Stella ran off with Cardello. You knew I needed her, and she’s become an important part of my life. I’ll donate the money to one of your foundations.”

“That would be great. I accept. Congratulations. She’s yours, and your responsibility now that she’s out of a job.” He pauses. “How’s Zarah?”

“She’s doing well. Lucille’s thrilled she’s home.”

“I’d love to stop by and see her sometime.”

“She’d like that.” I tamp down a wave of nausea. There is no way in hell I’ll allow Ash near my sister ever again.

“I have a meeting. Give Nathalie my regards. She’s a lucky woman.”

The line goes dead.

I look back to my doorway, and Stella’s gone.

Downstairs, Ingrid’s taking pictures. Photos will remind my sister Stella’s okay. It’s a good idea, and I wonder who thought of it.

Standing off to the side, clearly not part of the group, Nathalie’s watching, and jealousy colors her face. It’s easy to envy Stella and Zarah’s friendship when you’ve never had a similar one of your own. I wish Stella still felt that way about me.

“Hey,” I say to Nathalie, touching her shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about Ash anymore, okay? I told him I want to keep you.”

“He agreed?” she asks skeptically. “That easily?” She’s been trapped under Ash’s heel for too long to believe he would just let her go. Especially since King’s Crossing’s mayor fancies her.

“I had to pay.” I leave out the rest. She could take pride in the fact she cost so much, or pride in the fact I paid it. Or it could disgust her that her life, her entire being, could be whittled down to dollars and cents.

“Thank you.”

Her lips find mine, her tongue probing my mouth, asking me to let her in just like I always have. Stella’s looking at us—I can feel the weight of her stare.

Charades in charades. The lies are going to break me.

I turn my head, breaking our one-sided kiss. “I don’t feel that way about you anymore,” I murmur.

“You’re using me,” she accuses, jerking away.

“I’m not proud of it, Nat, but I have been since Ash introduced us and you know it. Use me now. For your freedom from the Blacks. Ash would never have let you go without me.”

“I love you,” she whispers.

I brush my lips across her forehead. “I care about you, too, you know that.”

“Not enough.”

She runs up the stairs before I can correct her. Maybe there’s nothing to correct. I do care about her, but not enough to try to turn it into love.

Stella watches me approach the group. “We need to go,” I tell her.

She stares at me with so much hate, if she could kill me, I’d be six feet under. While she was Ash’s slave to save Zarah, I’ve been fucking another woman like I didn’t give a shit she disappeared.

Reluctantly, she kisses both Zarah’s and Lucille’s cheeks. Murmurs things I can’t hear. The affection among the women is obvious, and despite the drugs we have to keep Zarah on for now, I’ve never seen her so close to the surface.

Stella meets me at the elevator, but she won’t look at me. It’s then I realize the hard truth. She’s never coming back to me. There’s nothing I’ll be able to say or do to convince her to love me again. To move on, I might as well marry Nathalie, keep the companionship I’ve grown to depend on. Lose myself in her because I’ll never again have the love of the only woman I’ll ever want.

“Where’s the flash drive? Did you destroy it?”

My heart and mind are lost in a vision of a future I can’t have, and I stare. Her eyes are covered by a sheet of ice allowing no emotion to escape.

“What?”

“The flash drive I gave you at my apartment. The flash drive I risked my life to get to you. The flash drive that you didn’t give a shit about because all you wanted was a quick fuck. Do you still have it?”

I scramble to pinpoint what she’s talking about. Seeing her that morning eclipsed everything we said. Everything we did faded away but me tasting her, feeling her surround me as I slid into her. How her body molded to mine as I took her.

Nothing else mattered.

Again, it’s just more evidence of how stupid I’ve been. How little value I’ve placed in all Stella has done. A glimmer of a memory comes back as she glares. Throwing it into my desk. Not bothering to give it another thought because I didn’t trust her. Didn’t believe her.

“It’s in my desk.”

“You didn’t look at what’s on it?”

My cheeks flame. Jesus. “No.”

“Pull your head out of your ass,” she hisses as the doors to the lift open.

I try not to take offense at her words. I do need to start paying attention. Ash is more cunning, devious, than I will ever be. He’ll trample me if I don’t do what Stella says. I have to quit my sappy little-boy behavior. I need to find the spine I grew when I thought Stella betrayed me and Nigel helped me pull Maddox Industries out of the pit I let it fall into after my parents passed away.

Stella fidgets while I search my desk. Mel doesn’t appear, and Peggy fields calls and acts like everything is normal.

I find the little piece of black plastic. It’s difficult to imagine that what’s on it will implicate the Blacks in such a way we’ll have even the tiniest leg to stand on, but Stella searched and gathered information for five years. She knows more than me, and I have to trust her, even if she doesn’t trust me.

I pocket it, and she opens her mouth to object, but she doesn’t. She’s only wearing a dress and flats. No purse. Mel didn’t give her much time.

“Now what?” I ask.

“A reporter from the Chronicle has been investigating the crash, and he offered to help us. We can’t let Ash know he’s involved.”

“He knows you and Denton are working together. A video of a pickup truck pushing his vehicle into the river is all over the news.” I want to say more. I want to say I’m glad she’s okay, that I’m glad she didn’t drown. I want to say I’m thankful Denton was there. I want to say a lot of things, but I don’t.

“The shooting, too,” she says.

“How’s your friend?”

“That’s none of your business.”

I stifle a sigh. In silence, I lead her to the parking garage under the building. She doesn’t give me much room, crowding me in the dim light. She’s scared. For all her bravado, she’s scared.

I open the passenger door to a plain black SUV. It’s the only vehicle I own that won’t stand out as mine.

She skirts around me and lies in the backseat. It’s smart, and I should have thought of that myself. I key an address she gives me into my GPS, and she doesn’t speak as I weave my way through the busy streets. I park in an alley near a dumpster, its contents rotting in the heat.

Without a word, I follow her up two flights of stairs, and she knocks on the door of a third-floor apartment located in a boring brick building that looks like a hundred others in King’s Crossing.

The door swings open.

A man about my age, dressed in khaki pants and a blue dress shirt, jerks her into the apartment.

I have a clear view of the living room, and Denton rises to his feet from a nubby couch. The scents of bacon and coffee permeate the air.

“Where the hell have you been?” the guy in khaki demands. Behind the glint of his glasses, his eyes are strained.

“One of Zane’s goons found me. You were right—I shouldn’t have gone back to the apartment—but it might be a good thing. I think he’s ready to listen.”

“We can’t trust him,” Denton says. He’s so angry his lips turn white.

I remain quiet. This is Stella’s show.

“We have to. If we want to destroy the Blacks, we need his money and connections.”

I flinch. I already knew that my money would be invaluable, but like my payment for Nathalie’s life, having my existence whittled down to so little is humiliating.

“Plus, he and Ash are still friends. That will help us.”

The guy I assume is the reporter widens the door in invitation. His eyes bulge when he notices the scratches down my cheek, but he doesn’t question me about them, only holds out his hand. “I’m Max Cook. Reporter for the KC Chronicle. I’m sorry about your parents.”

He must not know Stella’s and my history. He looks kind, like he’s willing to give me a chance.

“Thank you,” I say, firmly gripping his hand. I trust him immediately.

Denton doesn’t approach me, and I don’t blame him.

“Zane has something you need to look at,” Stella says, stepping farther into the room.

Seeing she’s okay, Denton relaxes slightly. He cares about her, that’s clear. I saw evidence he did on the news as he watched for her to surface from the river’s depths. My heart twists to see it in person, though.

“Max, can you boot up your laptop?”

I give Denton a wide berth and follow Stella and Max into a small, but clean, kitchen.

A grey cat winds his way around my ankles, leaving streaks of fur along the hems of my pants.

Everyone is quiet. Maybe they can feel how angry Denton is. Maybe they’re surprised I’m here. Maybe they’re just so happy Stella came back there’s nothing to say. Or maybe they don’t want to say anything in front of me, which is probably closest to the truth.

I hand Max the flash drive and stand near Stella. He inserts it into the USB port, and the laptop searches for the storage device.

Denton joins us, stopping just close enough to see the screen.

There’s only one folder on the flash drive, and that folder contains a series of images saved as PNGs.

They’re screenshots of an email, and I read over Max’s shoulder. The email text describes a deal, and Max enlarges the photo so we can read it more clearly. A day and time indicating when weapons will exchange hands. Guns, and lots of them, by the sounds of it. Clayton Black is the sender, and the receiver’s name is in a foreign language I won’t try to pronounce. Middle Eastern, maybe.

Max vibrates with excitement. “Stella, this is amazing.”

“That’s not all,” she says. “Look who’s CC’d.”

Max clicks on an image and enlarges the screenshot of the recipients. The email addresses are all letters and numbers. Coded, to maintain confidentiality. All but one.

It can’t be.

She would never do something like that.

I won’t believe it’s true.

“Lark Maddox,” Max whispers.

“This is proof,” Stella says.

“No,” I rasp.

Sympathy brims in Stella’s eyes and she squeezes my arm. “Zane.”

I yank away. “There has to be a mistake. My mother, she would never—” My voice cracks, and I try again. “She would never be involved in a deal like that. It’s a mistake.”

“Zane, listen—”

“No. This is wrong.”

My heart slams painfully against my ribs.

Denton sneers. He’s so ready to believe the worst after what I did to him and Stella.

Max twists in his seat and looks at me over his shoulder. “Zane.”

I try to breathe. Focus on Stella’s blue eyes. They’re thawed now, full of compassion. I want to run. I want to bury my head in the sand and block it all out. My beautiful, generous, caring mother, helping supply weapons to a terrorist regime, maybe to attack the United States.

“It’s not true, Stella,” I cry.

Max and Denton see how weak I am.

I don’t care.

“It’s not true,” Stella echoes.

“It’s not?” Max asks, surprised.

“No. What’s the one question we’ve been asking ourselves this whole time?”

“Why did Clayton Black want Kagan Maddox dead?” Max says.

Stella nods. “That’s right. But we were wrong. It wasn’t Zane’s dad Clayton was after. Lark was added to the email by mistake, and Clayton needed to shut her up. Look at the date of the email. It was sent the evening before their flight. Clayton didn’t bribe the pilot to kill Kagan, he was after Zane’s mother.”

My mother’s and father’s deaths were damage control.

I stand in Max’s kitchen, hot and cold, like the time I had pneumonia. My skin is icy, but I’m sweating.

The man who treats me like his own son, the man who cried over my parents’ empty caskets, the man who spoke so eloquently at my dinner the night I announced I was finally ready to step into my father’s place at the helm of Maddox Industries.

He’s the cause of it all.

“The sad part is, Lark probably hadn’t seen it yet,” Stella says. “They were on vacation. Checking her email might have been the last thing on her mind.”

“That’s even better,” Max says, pushing his glasses up his nose. “She didn’t have time to pass the information to anyone. Obviously, the Blacks will go to extreme measures to keep their side business going and shutting someone up permanently doesn’t bother them. Who knows you have this?”

The knowledge slams into me. Ash isn’t after Stella because she escaped. He’s after her because he knows she has evidence against him and his family.

“I’m not sure. I tried to cover my tracks the best I could. I ran away when Ash was out of the country. Willow saw me leave, but I don’t think she knew I had the flash drive. Maybe she did. I can’t say how much she knows about what her husband and son are doing.”

“For her sake, I hope she knows damned little. If she’s an accomplice, she’s looking at spending the rest of her life in prison for threatening the safety and security of the United States of America. She’ll be a traitor, just like her husband and son,” Denton says, speaking for the first time since I stepped into the apartment.

“The question is, what are we going to do with it? We have no authorities to turn it over to.” Max scans the email again.

“You’re not going to give it to the FBI?” I ask.

Max shakes his head. “Man, think. They’ve been investigating this for years, and they’ve found no leads? Come on . The Blacks have the FBI in their pocket. The National Transportation and Safety Board found the black box from your parents’ plane weeks, maybe days, after the crash. The FBI took possession of it, and they buried it.”

I stagger to the couch, and the cat jumps into my lap. The purring comforts me. He noses my hand, and I pet him, scratching behind his soft ears.

Stella sits next to me. “There’s a money trail to the pilot. He was paid to crash that plane. He was in debt, and his little girl had cancer. He was an easy mark.”

The cat inches up my chest and rests its head on my shoulder. I must look a sight in my suit and a cat wrapped around my neck.

Max scoffs, but smiles. “I love it when he does that.”

The distraction doesn’t amuse Denton and he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, ready for action. “We have enough to nail the SOB.”

“I’m going to copy this file. We’ve all seen it—and we know how desperate the Blacks are to keep this hidden. We all have to watch our backs.” Max taps a few keys. “I have to admit, I’m a bit overwhelmed. I don’t know what to do now.”

I know how he feels. The Blacks’ empire is like a broken mirror, cracks originating from a central point. The arms deals, the plane crash, and a big-time escort/prostitution service. Maybe more, if someone could bust open their company like a melon and find the rot inside.

“We start small and work our way up,” I say. “We don’t know who we can trust, so we start gathering evidence on the ones we can’t.”

Denton lifts an eyebrow. “How do you propose we do that?”

It’s time to reveal what an asshole I am. Everyone is going to hate me by the time this is over. It won’t matter I didn’t know most of what Ash and his father have been doing. It’s enough I knew a little and didn’t do anything about it.

Zarah and Stella sacrificed. Now it’s my turn.

I feel vulnerable, and the cat hugging me makes it worse. It’s not very manly, and gently, I pull him from around my neck and settle him onto a fleece blanket folded on the back of the couch. He curls into a ball and goes back to sleep.

I stand and brush the hair off my suit jacket.

“The mayor is a good place to start. For years, Vance Huxley’s been using Ash’s high-class prostitution service. He sells girls using his strip club as a front.”

Max whistles. “How do you know that?”

“Zane’s a client,” Stella cuts in, a grimace marring her pretty face. “In fact, he’s fallen in love with one of the girls, and he’s engaged.”

“There’s only one flaw to that plan,” Max says. He doesn’t seem concerned in the slightest about what Stella just said. Maybe he doesn’t care, maybe he has bigger fish to fry, but I’m grateful the glint of disgust in Denton’s and Stella’s eyes isn’t mirrored in Max’s too.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“If we start at the bottom rung, that gives them time to cover up the big-time stuff.”

I think about that. So far, I’ve managed to keep Ash from finding out I know about his escort service. He might be suspicious after our talk this morning, but Ash is Ash.

Cocky and confident to a fault.

“Not necessarily. The Blacks have been doing this for years and because they have clients who have power like the mayor, they’ll think they’ll never get caught. They might be a little more on guard now that they know Stella’s out there and maybe they don’t know exactly what she knows, but they do know she has no one to tell. It’s not like she can waltz into the KCPD and claim Ash abducted her and kept her a slave for five years. Who the fuck would believe that? Especially since the Blacks planted those pictures online of her and Sergio Cardello and paid him off not to deny their authenticity. I don’t know how many cops are dirty in the police department, but the chances of Stella finding someone to seriously listen to her are slim.”

“What are you getting at?” Max is intrigued, his nose for news twitching.

“I’m saying we hit them everywhere. There are enough of us to come at them from all sides.”

“Who’s working with us? How can we trust them not to turn rat?”

“There’s me, you, Denton. Stella. Nathalie. Stella’s friend, Quinn, the woman who was shot outside my building. My sister. Ash was selling her, and once she’s clear of all the drugs he was giving her to keep her quiet while she was locked away, she’ll be a key witness. I hired a private investigator. She flew in from LA this morning, and I trust her.”

“Who’s Nathalie?” Max asks.

“She’s one of the girls working in Ash’s prostitution service. Mayor Huxley’s one of her johns,” I explain.

“And the woman Zane’s engaged to,” Stella says.

“We aren’t engaged,” I say impatiently.

She scoffs. “That’s not what I heard.”

I speak to Max—Stella’s too bitter to listen to the truth. Not that I blame her, but it’s going to get old, fast. I need her on my side. We all need to be able to trust each other.

“I told Ash I wanted to marry her and he cut her loose. I’ve been seeing her for a while, and I know she can help us. She’s worked for him for the past seven years, and she has connections at Ladies and Gentlemen. She knows how the club works, how the service works. Who some of the other clients are, not just hers.”

Max thrums his fingers on his laptop. “Have you been paying Ash? Are you going down when his client list is exposed? When lists like that come out, careers are destroyed. Reputations are ruined.”

“I’ve never paid.”

“Are you connected to him in any other way? Illegally, I mean.”

“Not that I’m aware of. We’ve only been friends.”

Max nods. “Okay, good.”

“Is there anyone else who can help us that we can trust?” I ask.

“I have a friend at Quantico. She’s clean, and she’s the one who told me about the black box. It’s how I knew to find Richard and Stella. But you’ve been playing with the big dogs. I can’t ask my friend to put herself in danger until we have something concrete.”

“I agree. My contact at the FBI has been lying to me. He’s known all along my parents were murdered. Proving it will be another matter.”

“What do we do next?”

“We meet someplace more secure.” I pause. “And I think we need to fake Stella’s death.”

The cat’s purring is the only sound in the entire apartment. Denton and Max stare at me. Stella looks at the floor.

I hadn’t planned on something like that, but it makes perfect sense. “Ash is trying to kill her, and she can’t be seen in public. She can’t help us and watch her back at the same time.”

“How in the hell do we do that?” Max asks.

“There has to be a way. For five years the Blacks led everyone in the world to believe Sergio Cardello and Stella were lovers. He’s Italian royalty, for Christ’s sake. If they can do that, we can kill her. She’s an orphan, no family. She’ll be a blip in the news. She’s already been a target—pushed onto the train tracks, the shooting outside my building, the river. All we have to do is follow through.”

“She’ll hardly be a blip,” Denton points out. “She’s your ex. She was in a relationship with an Italian prince, it doesn’t matter if it was fake or not. She won’t pop out of the news that fast.”

He hates the idea, and it shows in the anger on his face. He’s going to have to get used to the fact I’m in the picture. I love her, and I won’t be letting her go so easily this time.

“All the better then. The more real it is, the more believable it is.”

“I don’t like it.” Denton leans against the table and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Do you have a better idea?”

“She can stay out of the way.”

As much as I like that idea the best, I know Stella will never go for it, and she doesn’t.

“No.” She jumps up. “I want to help, and you need me. I know the Blacks’ skyscraper from top to bottom. That place is like a castle, full of secret hallways and rooms. If we need something in that building, I’ll know exactly where it will be.”

I admit, even I don’t know Ash’s building that well, though I knew Clayton had a penchant for that kind of thing. Clayton and Ash love to know they’re capable of misleading people to the point they’ll believe anything they say. Like Clayton speaking at my dinner. Like Ash telling everyone he loved Zarah and wanted to marry her, and an hour later selling her to the highest bidder.

“What do we do?” Denton asks grudgingly.

“Stella and I will go to dinner. People will be curious to see us together again, and the paparazzi will post our pictures all over the gossip sites. We get mugged, but I’ll resist, and Stella gets shot. My driver will rush us to the hospital where she’s proclaimed DOA. Mel picks her up in the back.”

“It might work,” Denton says slowly, rolling through the plan, searching for holes. “She’ll be safer dead.”

“Yeah, she will.” I look at her, and her tired eyes meet mine. She escaped Ash only a handful of days ago, and since then, she’s been through so much. I want to hold her, keep her safe, but I’m the last one who will ever have that privilege.

Maybe after all this is done, Denton and Stella will vanish to live out the rest of their lives, cursing the Blacks and Maddoxes every night like a prayer before they go to sleep.

He watches for her reaction, but all she does is blow out a breath and sink back onto the couch.

“You said we need to hang out somewhere better?” Max asks, breaking the silence.

“Somewhere Ash won’t think to look for you.”

“Only us?”

“I still need to go to work. Play nice with Ash and pretend everything’s normal. It’ll be like a magic trick. Keep his eyes over here,” I lift my left hand, “while we take him down over here.” I lift my right. “I told him I’m in love with Nathalie. If we go out with him socially, he’ll believe it.”

“How do you explain you and Stella going to dinner?” Max asks.

I shrug. “She wants to get back together. I’m telling her to fuck off. No one is going to question that.”

Denton sighs. “Do you have a place in mind?”

“I just finished renovating the Crowne Royale Suites and Spa. It’s not open to the public yet, and I can hold off on that. No one will think to look for us there.”

“I’ll write a list of the things we know, the things we kind of know, and the gaps we have and what we’ll need to fill them in. You kill off Stella,” Max says.

He’s only joking, but it’s not funny. Not to me. If Ash’s men hadn’t been so inept, if Hal hadn’t dropped the job, if Denton hadn’t rescued her, if Ash hadn’t tipped me off to the kind of man he is when we were at Quiet Meadows, if I hadn’t found Stella’s ring in his desk...it’s a miracle she’s standing here.

Max continues, “We need resources. Richard’s car was destroyed when that asshole pushed him and Stella into the river, and they lost their phones.”

I nod. “We’ll get everything we need after we relocate.”

We sit at the kitchen table and form a plan. Scatter and meet at the hotel at different times using different modes of transportation.

“Stella can come with me,” Denton says, gripping her arm.

“Stella comes with me,” I say, rising off my chair.

He opens his mouth to protest, but Stella rests a hand on his chest. “Don’t do this. You need to stop at your apartment, shower, and pack your things. You were with me—we were both on the news. Ash knows we’re together, that I’ll have told you things, and you’re not any safer than I am.”

Denton hasn’t thought of that, and he presses his lips into a thin line.

“Besides, Zane discharged Zarah. I want to be there when we move her to the hotel. I don’t want her alone.”

He scoffs and cuts me a glance full of disgust. “You finally did something right.”

“Because of you and Stella. Thank you for going to see her.” I hold out my hand, but he turns away, mumbling under his breath.

Ash and his father have destroyed most of my relationships. The sooner I realize I won’t be able to repair them, the faster I’ll be able to move on after all this is over.

Denton leaves first. I tell him I’ll call ahead to the hotel and the manager who’s overseeing the renovations will show him to a room. We’ll stay on the same floor, grouped together. It may be smarter to spread out over the twenty floors, but Stella will be more relaxed if she has easy access to her friends.

Max will head over later tonight, and I give him permission to bring his furball. I try to sound gruff, but Stella smiles.

He hugs her and whispers, “Be careful.”

“I will. You, too.”

Outside his apartment door, I crowd her against the wall, needing to feel her body pressed against mine. I brush my lips across hers. They’re soft and taste a little of the bacon on the BLT she ate for lunch at the penthouse.

For five years I lived without her.

For five years I mourned the loss of what we had.

“Zane,” she says, turning her head and pushing me away, “don’t.”

“There’s no chance for us, is there? Did you fall out of love, Stella? Were the five years we were separated too much?”

She closes her eyes. I know she can feel my cock against her belly. My body will always need hers.

“Do you really want to know when I fell out of love with you?” she asks, and I nod, even though I don’t want to hear what she has to say.

“That morning in my apartment. I was covered in blood. My best friend’s blood. You asked me where I’d been and I thought, maybe he loves me enough to listen. But you didn’t. All you cared about was using me like you use the woman Ash gave you. I was nothing but a cheap fuck, and I can’t love a man who would treat me like that.” She looks at me, tears sheening in her eyes. “You loved me once. Didn’t you?”

She runs down the stairs. I chase after her in time to watch her push out the door and step into the alley. I hurry and unlock the vehicle doors—I can’t let her stand out in the open.

Grief numbs me, and not feeling a goddamned thing, I drive around the city. Not to avoid being followed, though that is a valid concern. Stella lies in the back, her breathing easy. She’s exhausted enough to fall asleep, and I let tears fill my eyes knowing she won’t see how her words affected me.

I lost her because of my own weakness.

And the stupid part of the whole thing? I’m proud of her. I’m proud of her strength. That she would push me away because she has pride in herself, integrity, self-respect.

I lose myself in the streets of my city, trying to find peace where there is none to be found.

Once Ash and his father are exposed as the criminals they are, Stella will go her own way, and I’ll go mine.

My heart knows we won’t be going in the same direction, no matter how much I wish it.

Stella’s sleeping deeply when I park in the parking garage, and gently, I carry her up to the penthouse. The living room is empty, and no one sees me bring her to my room.

She cuddles into me, her breath fanning my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. In sleep, she forgot she hates me, and she nestles her head on my shoulder.

I lay her down on my bed and cover her with a blanket. She can have a couple of hours. There’s a lot to do, and I have a few phone calls to make. I sit on the edge of the bed and smooth some of her hair away from her face. Her eyes flutter open, the cornflower blue. They aren’t full of innocence like they once were. They’re wary now. Of me.

“You won’t believe me, baby,” I say, rubbing my thumb over her lips, “and that’s probably for the best. But I’ll keep you safe through all this. I promise. Not because of what you’ve done for me and my sister and not because we need you to stop Ash and Clayton, but because...”

She watches me, waiting for me to continue.

“I love you. You can despise me for believing the photos and I won’t try to defend myself, but I loved you even though I thought you chose him over me. In your apartment, I acted like I hated you, but it wasn’t you I hated. I hated myself because there was so much evidence was stacked against you, and I still couldn’t give you up. I did love you, and I never stopped.”

Tears fill Stella’s eyes and she turns her head. She’s done listening. That’s okay. I don’t have anything else to say. She lets me kiss her cheek. “Go back to sleep. I need to do a few things before we go.”

I leave the door cracked and go downstairs to the kitchen. I need to talk to Lucille and let her know what’s going on. I loosen my tie and pour a cup of coffee. I don’t know what time it is or if I’ve had anything to eat today. My stomach can’t handle anything right now.

“Zane, what’s happening?” She’s worried, and she twists a towel in her hands, her gaze cutting to my face and the scratches on my cheek. Christ.

I thought about keeping Lucille in the dark, but she’s my housekeeper and part of my family. Ash won’t know what she doesn’t know, and it’s best I tell her everything so she can protect herself. I explain what Zarah’s doctors did to her following Ash’s orders at Quiet Meadows. I explain where Stella’s been, and more importantly, why, and where my scratches came from. To my shame, I explain Nathalie’s history and my part in it. I save the worst for last.

“I trusted Ash and Clayton, but they’ve been lying to me and knew the truth all along. My mother found out something she shouldn’t have, and Clayton caused the crash that killed her and Dad.”

Lucille sways on her feet and grips the edge of the counter. “Your poor mother and father. What are you going to do? Will you go to the police?”

“I don’t trust anyone now except Stella and a couple of others. I want justice. I want them to go to prison for their crimes. You should go and visit your family, the farther away, the better. Pack, and Douglas will drive you to the airport when you’re ready. Stay until I tell you it’s safe to come back, but I don’t know when that will be. I’m sorry. Ash and Clayton...some very influential people will go down with them. This city is going to see a lot of trouble by the time I’m done.”

Lucille nods.

Clutching her hand, I say, “You have to promise, no matter what you see on the news, you don’t believe it unless I tell you it’s true.” She would be devastated to lose Stella again.

She hugs me, kisses the cheek Stella didn’t rip to shreds, and quickly grabs her purse out of a desk drawer. She’ll say goodbye to Zarah, but she’s smart and won’t waste any time leaving the city.

Zarah’s resting but not sleeping, and I give her a long hug she briefly returns.

Outside her room, in quiet whispers, I ask Ingrid to go through Zarah’s things and pack a suitcase. I explain that we’re relocating and why it’s safer to stay at the hotel for the time being. She widens her eyes and licks her lips, and all I can do is hope she doesn’t run in the middle of the night. We need her help. Keeping my voice calm, I tell her to be ready to go soon.

Nathalie’s lying on the bed in the guest room. She’s holding a book, but she’s skimming the pages too quickly to get anything out of it. She’s not a reader. All of Stella’s books in her tiny apartment come to mind. Her tiny life. Her tiny life she fit me so snugly into because she wanted me there.

“Hey.”

She’s tuned in to trouble, and she sits up. “What is it? Is it Ash?”

“Yes, but not in the way you think. Things are going to start happening. Soon. You need to tell me you’re on board.”

I sit on the bed, and déjà vu hits me—sitting on the edge of a bed as a woman looks at me, tears shining in her eyes.

She launches herself into my lap. “I’m scared.”

I smooth my hand over her hair. “I know. Ash is a powerful man, but so am I. I was able to get you away from him, wasn’t I?”

“Yes.” She doesn’t sound convinced, and I swallow back an expletive.

“We have to pretend there’s nothing wrong. It’s important. We’ll have to see him eventually, and you’ll need to act like everything’s okay. That you’re happy to be with me. That we love each other and we’re planning to get married.”

Her gaze shifts away.

“Nat.”

“What?”

“There’s a lot riding on this. Can I trust you?”

She bites her lip. I need to know she’s not going to bail. That would be dangerous for all of us.

“That looks so painful,” Nathalie says, lightly running her fingertips over the gouges covering my cheek. The burn toned down to a dull throb I try none too successfully to ignore.

Before Stella came back, I would have leaned into her touch and let her kiss my bad day away. Drink champagne and screw—hard. There was none of the softness that Stella brought to our bed in mine and Nathalie’s. Dreams and a future filled Stella’s and my bed...nightmares and the past filled mine and Nathalie’s.

I should push her off my lap, but she nuzzles my lips with hers and I let her stay. She needs the affection to feel safe, and it’s my job now, at least until Ash can’t hurt her anymore, to protect her.

After a moment I lean back and she breaks the kiss.

“We’re going to a hotel across town. Do you have your purse? Where’s your phone?”

She hands me her cell, and I install a transportation app and enter my credit card information. “Go shopping and pretend you’re having an afternoon out. I would ask Douglas to drive you, but he’s busy now. You’ll be okay on your own, won’t you? Buy some clothes. We won’t be here when your online things are delivered. Take your time and enjoy yourself. Stop for a coffee, and when you’re done, go to the Crowne. I’ll tell the manager to expect you, and he’ll bring you to my room.”

“Okay,” she says, gripping the phone in her hand. She’s reluctant, but there’s nothing more I can say to reassure her.

“Nat, if you decide not to go through with this, don’t just run off, please. Tell me, and I’ll do what I can to keep you safe. Ash is dangerous, and you know that. Have probably seen evidence of it. I can’t force you to help me, but I’ll be afraid for your life if you try to go your own way.”

“I know.” She cuddles into me.

Impatiently, I rub her back and force myself to give her a few minutes. She needs time, reassurance. Like Stella, Ash is tipping her life upside down, and I need to find my compassion.

But she’s not the woman I want to hold.

That woman is sleeping in my bed.

Nathalie freshens up and I carry her bag to the foyer. After five years and countless nights, she keeps a small amount clothing, jewelry, and toiletries here, but there would have been more had we been in a real relationship. She’d insisted on keeping fresh lingerie, a toothbrush, and a change of clothes in my suite. Now I know why. After she left, she’d go on to another job.

Shopping this afternoon will add to the things she’ll need at the hotel, but she can buy what she wants, not what Ash is telling her to wear for work.

Lucille’s gone, and Ingrid’s packing. Zarah’s wandering around her room like she’s never been here before. I could curse Ash for all he’s done to my family, but the thought of revenge tastes sweeter on my tongue.

I contact Mel. I’m assuming she’s still working downstairs. “We’re meeting at the Crowne.”

She’s been digging and trying to find out who hired the hit on Maryanne, but her killer seems like a small consideration now. The only person it could be is Ash, and the proof will come out when we uncover more of the revolting things he and his father are involved in.

I don’t want to talk over the phone, and I tell her I’ll explain what I’ve found out in person. She says she’s tracking down a lead and will drive to the hotel as soon as she can.

Nathalie meets me at the elevator, and I kiss her cheek goodbye. Though she’s been good to me and she’ll be a huge asset, I regret getting mixed up with her. She brought out a side in me I thought Stella had taken away, and Nathalie’s presence reminds me I’m not a person worthy of Stella’s love, that maybe I never was.

When the penthouse is empty, I trod upstairs, my footsteps heavy. Stella wanted to ride with Zarah, but it’s better if we travel in separate vehicles and I sent Ingrid and my sister ahead of us.

Stella’s hair is splayed across my pillow, and I lay on my side next to her, my head in my hand. I trace her arched brows, the elegant line of her nose. In sleep, she looks peaceful, like she hasn’t lived a life full of pain, anger, and abuse. I should have fought harder. I should have called Cardello long ago. I should have flown to Italy and confronted him.

Then I would have known the truth.

Instead, I trusted Ash rather than the woman I claimed to love.

She has every right to hate me.

Her eyes flutter open, so blue. I remember when we would make love, they would smoke, like dry ice.

“Stella,” I breathe. I’m wasting time lying here. We should be meeting the others, but her lips part and I have no choice but to kiss her. She doesn’t respond, and I think this will be another snub, one more time she tells me to fuck off, but her lips start to move under mine and she opens her mouth, inviting my tongue to taste her sweetness.

I do, and she’s everything I ever remembered.

She wraps her arms around my neck, and that opens the floodgates of need and want. I pull her close, my hand under her ass, and I mold myself to her lithe figure all the while waiting for her to tell me to stop, for her to turn this into something sordid.

But she doesn’t, only kisses me back, our tongues tangling together. I run my hand along her leg, over her thigh, a large scrape bumping under my fingers. She moans, and I think I’ve hurt her until she whispers my name against my lips.

I lean away and look into her shimmering eyes. Refusal doesn’t glare at me like I suspected, but something...else. Something deep. I don’t want to call it love. I’d never do that to my heart, but the emotion writhing in the blue isn’t hate, and I’ll gratefully accept that for now.

“Let me make love to you, Stella.”

Tears pool in her eyes, and as they run down her temples, they shatter me into jagged pieces.

“It hurts.”

I don’t know what she means. I know I hurt her in her apartment. I hadn’t believed her, and she paid the price as I rammed my aching cock inside her. She could mean how I broke her heart. Or the loneliness. Or being on the run. Or Maryanne’s death. She could mean anything—her life hasn’t been easy, and most of that is my fault.

Instead of asking and risking ruining the moment, I say, “I know, baby,” and kiss her again.

Lifting her hips and widening her knees, she invites me to touch, and I do, my fingers inching under the elastic of her panties and finding her slippery heat. My fingertips nudge her slit, and she gasps and starts to tremble. God, I don’t want to hurt her anymore, and I move to pull my hand away but she murmurs, “No. Don’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please.”

Gently, I part the delicate folds of her pussy and find her tight, so tight.

She whimpers.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” I need all my control not to rush. My cock is throbbing, and I’ve wanted absolutely nothing since I took her than to do it again.

That time I showed her how angry I was, how much I hurt, how broken my heart is, but this time I’ll show her love. How much I treasure her. How much I want a second chance after all this is done.

I push the tip of my finger inside her and ease in the rest of the way. Her muscles tighten, and I twist, tenderly, opening her.

Her hips meet the pressure wanting more.

I want to give her time and pull my finger out. She mews in disappointment.

“Patience, baby.” I sprinkle kisses all over her face. “I love you. Let me show you.”

“Zane.” Her voice quivers.

So much heartbreak in the way she says my name.

“I know.”

As tenderly as I can, I push two fingers inside her. They glide in without resistance, and her muscles tremor. I move them in and out, preparing her. This time, she’ll enjoy our intimacy.

I find her clit, and she rubs my cock through my pants.

Heat fills my belly.

“Zane, I need you.”

“Are you sure you’re ready? I don’t want to keep hurting you, Stella. I can’t bear it.”

“I’m sure.”

“Then take your dress off.”

I slide my hand out of her panties and undo my tie and unbutton my shirt.

She pulls her dress over her head. Her bra is a plain white lace, but that isn’t why the breath hisses out of my lungs in shock and dismay.

The bruise from the day that fucking asshole pushed her onto the tracks blossomed into full color. Bright purple in places, so dark, almost black in others, it covers one side underneath her breast and down her ribs, stopping just above her hip bone.

I smooth my fingers over it, and goosebumps pop along her skin. “Christ, Stella. Whoever fucking did this to you, I’m going to pay them back a hundred times over. By the time I’m done, they’ll wish they’d never heard your name.”

She rests her and on my arm. “Don’t think about it now.”

I have no choice. Her thigh is just as raw, thick scabs covering her delicate skin. “What happened?”

“A car tried to run me down. I almost let it. It was the night I found Maryanne, and all I wanted was to die too.”

I cradle her face in my hands. “I didn’t have anything to do with that. I swear to God. You have no reason to believe me, but I didn’t. I had no part in it.”

I desperately need her to believe me. No matter what I’ve done, she might one day see past it, but she will never, in this lifetime, forgive the person who killed the woman she considered her mother. The sin is too great. If she thinks I did it, there will be no redemption.

She searches my face and lightly touches the scratches on my cheek, my stubble rough under her fingertips. “I believe you.”

Out of thankfulness and gratitude, I crush my lips to hers.

She reaches for my pants, unbuckles my belt, and draws down the zipper. Greedily, she pushes past my briefs and wraps her warm hand around my cock.

I surge under her touch. “Christ, Stella.”

“Hurry up, then.”

We finish undressing, and she wriggles between the sheets. I’m right behind her, and in seconds she’s in my arms, pressing her breasts against my chest.

“I can’t wait,” she says, “but I don’t want it to be like this.”

I know what she means, and I don’t want it that way either. I want to explore, to kiss every inch of her skin. “Slow, baby. We have time,” I say, but she shakes her head and pushes me onto my back. She straddles me and her cleft cradles my cock, her arousal slicking my erection.

“Like this?” I want to be sure this is the position she wants.

“Like this. Do you remember?”

The first time we made love in her apartment. Yeah, I remember. I remember I hurt her then, too.

“We should use a condom. I didn’t last time, and I’m sorry. I don’t have anything but I could have gotten you pregnant.” I swallow, the word sticking in my throat.

She ignores the idea I could have gotten an STD from somewhere, from someone , and pressing my hand to her belly, she asks, “Do you want babies, Zane?”

Sitting on top of me, her golden hair falling over her shoulders, her breasts heavy as they anticipate my touch, her skin glowing despite the dark room, there is nothing more I want on this earth than for her to carry my children.

“Not just babies, Stella. Everything that comes with them. A commitment. A marriage. A home. We’re not ready, and we won’t be for a long time.” Maybe never . I know the reality, even if she’s here right now.

I won’t put a baby inside her unless she can tell me I can have it all.

Her face doesn’t give anything away. Not disappointment, not relief. Not even love. She only reaches into my nightstand where she knows I’ve always kept my stash of condoms and tears open a foil packet.

Her fingers shake as she sheathes me, and I have to hold my breath and count to five so I don’t explode. I have never come undone by a woman’s touch the way I do with Stella’s. “Be careful. Take all the time you need.”

She lifts onto her knees and holds my cock in her hand, positioning the tip against her opening. “Will you touch me? I like it when you do.”

I wet my fingers and nudge her clit. The nub of nerves is huge, waiting for me to give her pleasure. “Do you mean like this?”

“Yeah,” she says, sighing, and she sinks onto me using excruciating care.

I grit my teeth and swirl my fingers over her clit. I want to keep her relaxed, loose, on the edge of falling over.

It feels like forever until she rolls her hips to accept the last inch of my cock, and her muscles tighten around me. I give her a chance to adjust. It costs me to stay in control, but this is her moment. All I’ve done in our relationship is take, and now I need to give. Time. Love. Family.

She’s welcome to anything I have, as long as she never leaves me again.

Slowly at first, she starts to move, testing her limits. My tip hits her center, and I clench my teeth. I want to come.

I caress one of her breasts, squeezing her nipple. She cries out, and her pussy tightens in response. I increase the pressure on her clit, and perspiration mists her skin.

“Zane,” she whimpers, and she moves my hand from between her legs and places it on her other breast.

I pinch her nipples.

She rocks her hips and rubs her clit. I love watching her pleasure herself and feeling her explore where we’re joined.

We’re two halves of a whole, and we always will be.

Despite all I’ve done to her, I will prove that we aren’t broken.

I’m buried inside her as deeply as I can be and she comes. I immediately follow, gripping her hips, my cock spurting, spasms wracking my entire body.

We’ve barely caught our breaths when I sit up, yank her against me, and kiss her so roughly our teeth smash together. “You are mine,” I snarl, twisting my fingers in her hair. “You are mine, and I am never letting you go again. If you disappear, I will search heaven and earth to find you.”

I clutch at her as she cries hot tears into my neck.

We dress in silence. I’m not so stupid as to think a hot round of sex will fix things, but Stella letting me touch her means a lot. Maybe she was just using me, but Denton wouldn’t turn her away. He would act self-righteous about it in the daylight, but under the cover of night, he’d accept Stella into his bed if she wanted to be there. Max, as well, I think, though he’d probably deny it, too.

She needed someone, someone to touch her, and she came to me. It humbles me, it really does.

I pack a small carry-on while Stella cleans up in my bathroom. I don’t need much. If he questions it, I can get away with telling Ash I’m trying out the hotel before it opens, but as much as it will put me on edge to be away from everyone, I’ll need to spend the majority of my nights here.

I have no idea how long we’ll need, what the fallout will be, or what’s going to happen once everything is done. When a building is blown up, there’s a moment of stillness, and then the floors cave in, one by one.

Stella steps out of the bathroom looking the same as she did before we made love. I didn’t expect her to radiate happiness, to suddenly act like she loved me again, but I’d be lying if I said her not meeting my eyes doesn’t hurt.

“Ready?” I ask.

“I don’t have anything. I have a bag in that woman’s truck, that private detective who picked me up, if you can ask her if I can have it back.”

“Mel’s meeting us at the hotel. She can give it to you when we get there.”

“Thank you.”

“Stella...” I want to remind her of the risk we’re taking, but no one understands that more than she does.

“I know. If it was just for me, I’d leave it alone, but it’s not. It’s for Zarah and the things Ash let those men do to her...It’s for the woman you have here. How long has she been trapped working for him? And it’s for your parents. How many other lives have Ash and Clayton destroyed? We need to do this. It doesn’t matter how dangerous it is.”

“Okay.” I pause. “When all this is over...”

She waits.

Empty promises will get me nowhere.

“When this is finished and you’re free, I’ll see to it you have everything you need to start over. Anywhere you want.”

Her expression betrays not a hint of emotion. “Without you?”

After we’re done and the dust settles, I can pray she’ll want me, but the truth is, I don’t know what we’re going to uncover. I don’t know how evil Clayton and Ash really are. Friendship connects us. I’m guilty by association.

I nod. “Without me.”

She doesn’t answer, simply walks out the door and down the stairs.

I drive a different car to the Crowne. I’ve used my SUV enough, but the precaution is too little, too late. Ash knows every vehicle I own. Max hinted that I should replace Denton’s car, but to pay him back for his help, I’ll owe him a lot more than that.

The city slides by, and Stella sits low in the seat.

She smells of sex, the air conditioner wafting the scent from between her legs, and I want to taste her, lick her until she comes under my mouth.

“Stop it.”

My lips twitch. “Stop what?”

“Looking at me like I’m a four-course meal and you’re starving to death.”

“But darlin’, you taste so good,” I drawl, hoping to hear her laugh.

She turns away, but not before I catch a smile.

Sleek and elegant, The Crowne sits on the bank of the Renegade River, on the opposite side and in the opposite direction of the industrial park where Stella almost drowned.

Shopping plazas, restaurants, and commercial office buildings surround the hotel, and in the busy area, we should be able to come and go without calling too much attention to ourselves.

In a stroke of luck, a car rental office is located in one of the plazas, and when we need to, we can swap out vehicles.

The Crowne’s kitchen is fully operational, but because of the renovation, there isn’t a chef or staff on site. We’ll have to order our meals from nearby restaurants, and we’ll start tonight when we plan Stella’s death. I can’t think about it without feeling like there are worms wiggling around inside my stomach and I doubt I’ll want to eat anything, but Ash will never give up and it’s only a matter of time before he tries again and succeeds.

“This is nice,” Stella says, tilting her head to look through the windshield.

I turn the engine off and we sit in the quiet car. The sun beating against the glass will turn the interior into an oven, but I just need a few seconds. “You never cared, did you?”

She knows what I’m asking.

“I never did. I saw you and your sad brown eyes. I just wanted your pain to go away. You could have been the poorest man in the city, and I still would have loved you.” She traces her fingers over my cheek. The grooves her fingernails gouged into my skin have crusted over into thick scabs, and her touch lights my skin on fire. I should find some antibiotic cream. “I’m sorry about this.”

I lightly touch the space over her heart. “I’m sorry about this.” I turn my head, and my lips meet her palm.

She lets my lips linger, but I don’t dare hope.

We get out of the car.

I place a hand to her lower back and lead her into the opulent lobby. The manager, a distinguished older gentleman my father hired, is waiting for me. He shakes my hand and doesn’t mention my cheek or Stella’s rumpled state. I want to pamper her, and I ask him to show us the Honeymoon Suite though I know we won’t be sleeping together. Stella will feel safer sharing a room with someone, but the bathroom is as luxurious as they come, and I want her to enjoy it.

“Who else has arrived?” I ask as Stella explores the suite.

“ Monsieur Denton , Monsieur Cook , Mademoiselle Maddox and her companion, and Mademoiselle Sanchez .”

Max is early, but I imagine he’s eager to get started and it’s possible he doesn’t feel comfortable being separated from the group. It’s how I’ll feel—antsy, restless. Worried about Stella. But that means everyone’s here but Nathalie.

I spent more time alone with Stella than I should have.

“One more guest should arrive soon. Her name is Nathalie Barton. Please show her to Max’s room. Is he staying in the Presidential Suite?”

“ Oui , Monsieur . As you requested.”

He leaves us alone, and it’s tempting to have my way with Stella on the white canopied bed. “Why don’t you stay here, soak in a bath? Nap?” I suggest, tucking her against my chest and splaying my hands across her back. I’m taking too many liberties, too many chances, but I kiss her forehead and she doesn’t stop me. “I’ll tell the others we’re here.”

“No, I want to go with you.”

“Okay.” I’m not going to argue.

The Presidential Suite is located at the opposite end of the hallway, and in silence, Stella and I shuffle down the long, carpeted corridor, cream, muted sconces lighting our way. Someone blocked the door open, and I enter the room without knocking.

Near enormous windows that look over the Renegade, a huge conference table complete with device charging stations and a flat screen TV anchored to the wall create a professional meeting area, and Mel sits at the table, tapping away on her laptop. She doesn’t look up.

Max and Zarah are sitting on a loveseat in the middle of the room, and to say his expression is awestruck would be an understatement. His Adam’s apple bobs and his lips move, but no sound comes out. She looks a bit amused, but unsure. His cat is sleeping in her lap.

Ingrid will be standing by, and I’ll leave it alone for now. I don’t feel Max is dangerous, but whenever a guy thinks with his dick, there’s huge potential he’ll fuck up.

I know that better than anyone.

Denton’s standing at the bar, sipping scotch. I’m not the boss of anyone in this room, and he glares, waiting for me to tell him drinking right now isn’t appropriate, but I keep my mouth shut.

“Max updated me on what’s happening,” Mel says, lifting her head and focusing her attention onto me and Stella. “Stella’s death is brilliant. Keeping Black off her tail will be worth the trouble. I called in my partner, and he’ll be on the last flight out of LA tonight. I don’t trust anyone to shoot her but him.”

I frown. I don’t like the blasé way people refer to how we’ve chosen to keep Stella safe.

“Was I wrong?” Mel asks, misinterpreting my scowl.

“No. It’s fine.”

“I looked into the ER staff, and I found a nurse who lied on her application. She’s done time for prescription theft. If someone were to find out and report her, she’d lose her job.”

I sigh.

“What?” Mel lifts her hands, palms up. “Might as well play by the Blacks’ rules—when it suits us. She’ll pick up an extra shift tomorrow night. All we need to do is push Stella through the ER and wheel her out the back. Everyone thinks she’s been out of the country. She has no emergency contacts or next of kin—it’s not a secret she grew up in foster care. The morgue will hold her body as part of an ongoing investigation, and that’s that. She hides here for a day or two while the news dies down, and we’re up and running.”

Stella’s standing behind the loveseat listening to Mel and rubbing Zarah’s shoulder. She doesn’t seem bothered, maybe even a little relieved, that she won’t have to worry about Ash anymore.

Denton curiously watches Stella’s reaction, and I need all my willpower to keep from bashing his face in. I owe him a lot, but his interest in Stella will always rub me the wrong way, even if it’s innocent.

Max’s cell phone rings, and he answers it, his eyes never leaving Zarah’s face.

Jesus Christ.

“’Lo?” he asks. “Yeah. Stella.”

I tense. Max passes her his cell like she’s been receiving calls on it all day.

She pales, but she answers and wanders into an adjoining bedroom. She comes out a moment later and says, “Quinn’s ready to go. They said her infection responded well to the antibiotics and she’s okay to be discharged as long she rests. She wasn’t able to reach Luis, a guy she used to work with, and she needs a ride.” She bites her lip and turns to me. “You said she’ll be helping, didn’t you?”

“Who’s Quinn?” Mel asks.

“The woman who was shot in front of my building a couple of days ago. She’s Stella’s friend and foster sister.”

“Did they catch who did it?”

“No.”

Mel narrows her eyes and directs her attention back to her laptop. She’s in her element, and I’m grateful she’s on our side.

“I’ll go get her,” I say.

“I want to go, too,” Stella says, giving Max his phone.

I shake my head. “We’re trying to keep you safe, not wave you around like a red flag in front of an angry bull.”

“He’s right,” Denton says, swirling what’s left of the drink in his glass.

“I can go,” I say firmly. “I assume you told her you’re with me?”

Stella nods.

“Then everything should be fine.”

“You fucking son of a bitch!” Quinn shouts as I walk into her hospital room. She’s wearing a blood-soaked dress, and a sling steadies her arm.

Jesus. That could have been Stella.

Quinn growls, and gauging her reaction, I cautiously step back. She’s tiny, but so is Stella. A pissed off female has already done enough bodily damage. “Calm down. I’m here to help you.”

“Fuck off,” she says. “I can’t believe she sent you here.”

“If you can stop thinking about yourself, you’ll remember that someone is trying to kill her. We didn’t think it best for her to be traipsing around King’s Crossing after your pretty little ass.”

I’ve known people like Quinn. Too suspicious to trust anyone. Been hurt by too many people when they’ve tried.

“Do you want to see Stella or not?” I’m already tired of fighting with this Goth chick.

“Yes,” she says, her voice clipped, her face twisted into a scowl.

She doesn’t like it, but tough. My head is finally on straight. The fog has lifted, and for once, I feel like I know what I’m doing, where I’m going, and how to get there.

A thin, perky blonde nurse pushes a wheelchair into the room. “Are you ready to go, Quinn?” She looks at me and then back at her. “Do you feel safe?”

“Lady, I’ve never felt safe in my life, but not because of him.”

The nurse looks unsure, but Quinn throws herself into the chair. Her shoulder meets the metal frame and she groans.

“Careful,” the nurse says.

Facing me, Quinn shakes her head and rolls her eyes.

I can see why she and Stella get along so well.

Neither of them take any shit.

I walk alongside the wheelchair, and we’re quiet as the elevator lowers us down to the lobby.

She pushes Quinn all the way up to the rubber mat of the hospital’s front doors. Quinn places her feet on the floor and shakily stands, and I help her, a hand to her waist, but the nurse says, “I have to watch you get into your vehicle.”

“I need to pick up my meds,” Quinn says, glaring at me because I touched her and tilting her head to the pharmacy and gift shop behind us.

“Okay,” the nurse agrees reluctantly. “We’ll call to schedule you a follow-up appointment time. If you need to be seen before then, go to urgent care. Stay safe.”

“Jesus Christ,” Quinn mutters. “Everyone knows I got shot.”

“You’re a celebrity,” I joke, leading her through the gift shop to the pick-up counter.

“I just want to be left alone.”

“That’s probably not gonna happen for a while.”

Quinn rattles off her name and birthdate to the pharmacy technician, and he turns around and faces a wall made of white bins. He pulls out a paper bag full of pill bottles—three different kinds of painkillers and two antibiotics. He recites the dosages and side effects, but Quinn tunes him out, shifting impatiently on her feet.

She needs a shower, a good night’s rest, and a meal that isn’t hospital food. It’s disconcerting that she looks as Stella does, worn out and tired of life.

The tech rings up her meds, and without prescription insurance, the total is astronomical. I pull out my credit card to pay and she blushes. Like Max had not-so-subtly reminded me, I’m funding this operation. This is just another expense.

The tech staples the paper bag closed and pushes it across the counter.

“Thanks,” she mumbles.

We walk out of the gift shop, and I stop her near the sliding glass doors. “Listen, I’ll tell you what I told Stella. You have no reason to trust me. I get it. But if you need anything, tell me. If you have any information or learn anything about anyone, tell me. Ashton Black is into some dangerous shit, and if you’re going to help us take him out, we need to be on the same side and trust each other.”

She doesn’t say anything, just stares at me, assessing me, studying the bloody grooves dredged into my skin. Quinn knows Stella attacked me, and I say the only other thing I can think of that will clear me in Quinn’s eyes. “I didn’t kill Maryanne. I know Stella told you I did, but I didn’t. The punk who did is dead. We’re trying to connect him to Ash.”

“Does Stella know that?”

“Yes.”

Quinn works the information over, chewing on her lip. “She sent you to pick me up, so I’ll have to go with that for now.”

“Thank you.” I pause. “Do you feel up for a walk?”

“Depends. Where are we going?”

“This way.” Instead of going out to the car, I follow the arrows painted on the hallway wall to the ER.

In a city the size of King’s Crossing, there’s always something nasty happening, and on this early evening, I’m not wrong. The daily chaotic state of the ER is why I thought we could pull off Stella’s death, and it’s probably the only reason I would consider such a fucked-up plan. The lying nurse on our side will help us even more. I don’t like playing dirty like that, but I’ll have to get over it.

Quinn shuffles by my side, watching the commotion.

A kid who almost drowned in a swimming pool, his lips blue.

A cyclist who was hit by a truck.

A drunk driver who had too much to drink at a late afternoon barbecue collided with a family in a minivan. The family requires several nurses and doctors, and one of the smaller children was declared DOA.

A woman in labor, already pushing, adds to the mix. If the ER is this busy tomorrow night, Stella will be able to slip through without anyone noticing. We’ve been standing, watching, for close to ten minutes and not one person has looked our way or asked if we needed help.

Another ambulance squeals to a stop in front of the automatic doors, its siren deafening.

“What are we doing?” Quinn asks.

I turn and jerk my head at her to keep up with me. Walking down the hallway toward the rear of the hospital, we pass the registration desk where two nurses are quickly entering insurance information and a third is answering the telephone. As I study the route Stella and the nurse will need to follow to reach the ER’s rear exit, I explain what the plan is.

“We need Ash off her ass. The best way to do that is take her out of the equation as realistically as possible so he believes it.”

Quinn starts poking her head into supply closets and exam rooms.

I feel marginally better knowing where Stella will be tomorrow night, that she won’t have a problem blending into the turmoil.

The back doors open into a wide alley, and along the building are bays for trucks delivering supplies. A car idling out here in the middle of the night won’t attract too much attention.

A taxi, maybe, or a van of some kind. Maybe a truck from a linen company. I’ll have to see what we can get our hands on. A courtesy vehicle from one of the hotels like the Crowne, though using something of mine would alert anyone who cared to look.

I sag into a blue chair.

Quinn sits next to me, her mouth pinched in pain. She needs a pill.

What we have to do weighs on me. These next few days won’t be easy, and I wish I could keep Stella far away from it all. It’s my fault she’s in the middle of this fucking mess. I should never have promoted her. Left her in payroll where she belonged, ignored the obsession of keeping her by my side.

Quinn studies me. “You really love her, don’t you?”

I anchor my elbows on my thighs and press the heels of my hands into my eyes hoping to relieve some of the pressure that’s already turning into a massive headache. “Since the minute I saw her.”

She rests her hand on my knee. “I believed the pictures, too. I didn’t believe in her. I didn’t trust enough in our friendship. I thought I knew her, but if I had, I would’ve known she never would have done something like that. She wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.”

Tears cling to her pitch-black lashes, and mascara is smeared under her eyes.

“Both of us failed her, didn’t we?”

A tear drops onto her cheek. “Yeah.”

“Then we’ll make it up to her.”

I push the door open to Max’s room and Quinn flies into Stella’s arms, a sob escaping her mouth. She hugs Stella using her good arm and buries her face in the graceful curve of Stella’s neck.

They hold each other, blocking everyone out.

After several moments, Quinn lifts her head and looks at me, and there’s more than friendship shining in her eyes.

Jesus Christ.

Does everyone have to be in love with Stella?

I can hardly blame them.

Though I was wrong about Max. He hasn’t moved an inch away from Zarah, and they sit near each other, his arm along the top of the loveseat in the classic move of “I want to put my arm around you, but I don’t want to look like I do.”

She’s leaning into him, too.

I hope she feels safe around him.

“I’m going to help Quinn wash her hair in the Honeymoon Suite.” Stella pauses. “Zane.”

“What is it?”

“Quinn and I need clothes. We don’t have much...”

“I know. I’ll ask Mel to order you a few things.”

“And something to eat, please.”

She brushes her mouth against mine, her lips trembling, and everything she asks me to do is worth that whisper of a kiss.

I don’t know much about women’s clothes, and I have to ask Stella and Quinn what their sizes are. I won’t try to guess. Quinn answers for both of them, and huddled together, they step into the hallway.

I write down their sizes and a list of boutiques Zarah liked to shop at before her breakdown and ask Mel to order whatever she thinks Stella and Quinn are going to need for the next few weeks. She knows more than me. I pull my credit card out of my wallet and tell her while she’s at it to order dinner from a nearby restaurant that will deliver to the hotel.

Nathalie still hasn’t shown up, but I’ll wait another hour then call her. Like Stella and Zarah, she doesn’t know what freedom feels like, and if she’s using the time to pretend she’s a normal woman enjoying a day of shopping, I won’t interfere.

Everything is under control, and I choose a bed in one of the bedrooms connected to the Presidential Suite.

I am so tired, and I fall asleep the second my head hits the pillow. At one point, I wake up briefly, and Stella’s wrapped around me. I let my exhaustion pull me under, her head on my chest.

When I wake up again, she’s gone.

My neck hurts. The pillow was too fluffy, and my back aches, the unfamiliar mattress too hard. I’m also freezing, the thermostat set low because the hotel is supposed to be empty and I didn’t turn it up.

I wander into the main room. Max should be helping Mel, but he and Zarah are watching a movie.

“Ingrid chose a room down the hall and went to bed. I hope that’s okay,” he tells me as I pause near the loveseat. Plates of half-eaten pasta sit in front of them on the coffee table. I slept through dinner.

“As long as Zarah’s all right.”

Max holds her hand, and she smiles at him, her eyes bright. “I’ve got her.”

Warily, I say, “Okay.” I’ve trusted the wrong people for too long, but I can’t lose faith in everyone.

Denton’s nowhere to be seen, and neither is Quinn. Mel’s still at her laptop, her fingers flying over the keys. An empty plate and a mug of coffee sit beside it.

Coffee sounds like a miracle, and I choose a pod from the selection near the Keurig that’s placed in each room.

“Richard said he felt cooped up and he’s poking around the hotel. Quinn wasn’t looking so hot, and I told her to take a pain pill and go to bed.” Mel pauses. “Nathalie showed up,” she says, peering at me over the top of her laptop’s screen. “She’s shaky.”

“Yeah. She’s been working for Ash, and the things he’s made her do haven’t been...”

There are no words that can be spoken aloud to describe what Natalie has been forced to do. Sex worker. As a high-class escort, she’s been treated better than a hooker on Fischer Boulevard, but not by much. I’ll arrange for her to have access to as much therapy as she needs for as long as she needs it.

“Where is she?” I ask. The coffee drips into a Crowne coffee cup, and I inhale the rich scent of the dark roast. My hotels supply nothing but the best, and I appreciate it now.

“On the balcony.” Mel tips her head in the direction of the French doors across the room. “There’s some lobster macaroni and cheese left, if you want something. It’s fabulous. You have great taste in restaurants.”

“Thanks.” It’s crazy what money can buy.

And after living five years without Stella, I also know what it can’t.

Coffee suits me fine for now. Maybe, when I know Ash can’t hurt Stella ever again, my appetite will come back.

I approach the French doors and open one a crack, but I pause. Nathalie’s speaking to someone, and the only person unaccounted for is Stella.

Shit.

I pretend to change my mind and quietly close the door. Mel doesn’t pay any attention, and carrying my coffee cup, I go back into the bedroom I slept in. This room also has balcony access, and I gently nudge the door open. Their voices drift to me. We’re too high and the traffic noise can’t reach us, but the wind whispers past as it dances its way around the buildings.

I lean against the wall, hiding in the shadows of the room. I shouldn’t eavesdrop. I’m not going to like what they have to say about me. Even if it’s all true.

“It’s hot out here,” Nathalie says. There’s a rustling. She’s lying on a chaise lounge, and her clothing brushes against the cushion.

“The breeze feels nice,” Stella replies. It sounds like she sips a drink. Maybe coffee. She’d always been a caffeine fiend. It would be nice if some things about her haven’t changed. I know that’s selfish. Of course she’s changed. What I mean is, it would be nice if I could find something that wasn’t my fault.

I can’t see either of them, and I can only guess their movements. Stella tucked herself into the side of the building and out of sight.

“How’s your friend?” Nathalie asks.

It sounds like they’re sitting next to each other.

“Her wound is okay. She’s sore, tired. I feel guilty. That should have been me. If I hadn’t tripped...”

“Ash did that.”

“Yeah.”

“I saw you a couple of times, at Black Enterprises.”

More proof Stella didn’t lie.

It’s surreal to me that while I was using Nathalie to forget Stella, Nathalie knew Stella was in King’s Crossing, working for Ash, all along. I never mentioned Stella to Nathalie—I’d had no reason to—and after Stella left, I got rid of every trace of her in the penthouse. What would have happened if Nathalie would’ve told me Stella was in King’s Crossing?

Had my faith in Ash been so absolute I wouldn’t have believed her?

I can guess what would have happened. I would have foolishly told Ash Nathalie said she’d seen Stella, and Nathalie—and Stella—would have disappeared.

“Yeah. I remember. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”

They fall silent, and I sip my coffee. I think they’re done talking, but then Nathalie says, “I didn’t know it was you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been seeing Zane for a long time—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Stella snaps.

I close my eyes. This is bad.

“You don’t understand.” Nathalie doesn’t sound bothered by Stella’s sharp tone.

“I don’t need you to explain.”

“I think you do.”

Stella doesn’t speak, and I feel the resentment and bitterness coming in waves through the crack in the balcony’s door. She cares enough to be angry, at least.

“I’ve been seeing Zane for a long time. I know I’m just a whore—”

Stella says, “No—”

“Just let me finish,” Nathalie says, and Stella stops.

My skin prickles.

“I know I’m only a whore, but whenever I’m with Zane, I feel like I’m more than that. Like I’m a woman worth more than only a quick screw. Like I’m important, like I’m human, who has a heart and feelings.”

Silence.

“I know what you mean.” Stella’s voice is soft.

I sag against the wall. I never treated Nathalie like I did Stella. Like a piece of fragile glass, something to be treasured. Nathalie was a friend, less than a friend, someone I could use so I wouldn’t be alone. My heart was never in it, and I’m ashamed of the small scraps I tossed at her and how important they’d been to her.

“I tried to make him fall in love with me, but it never worked. We went out for dinner, to plays and movies, I would share his bed, but there was always a part of him I couldn’t touch.” Nathalie stops and a glass clinks as she sets it onto a patio table. “He would have nightmares.”

“He did with me, too,” Stella says.

“And he would cry, ‘Don’t go. Please, come back.’”

My heart thumps. I don’t remember having nightmares when I slept with Nathalie.

“I knew he was missing someone. I knew he was in love with someone. For the five years we were together, he’s been mourning. Not his mom and dad. Someone else. Then I saw you earlier today, the way he’d look at you. The way he would reach out to touch you, but he’d let his hand drop, like he couldn’t dare. I realized that person was you.”

“Right. If he loved me so much, then why has he been with you?” Stella asks, and I can picture the pucker of her lips, like she’s sucking on a lemon.

“Haven’t you been desperate enough to beg for love?” Nathalie asks, and I can barely hear her.

Stella’s quiet. I don’t think she’s going to answer, but then she says, “Yes. As a child.”

“Then you know. I go from man to man, trying to entice them with my body to love me for my heart. Zane’s the same. He’s so lonely, and he missed you so much.”

Stella sniffles. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because of the way you look at him. Hard. You won’t forgive him for giving me these five years, but they were never mine, Stella. He never stopped loving you, and he was doing what he had to do to survive.”

“Is that a good enough excuse?” Stella does sound hard, like Nathalie said.

“You tell me.”

“Don’t you feel used?” Stella asks.

“Zane gave me what he could, and he treated me as well as he was able. A woman in my position, you take what you can get.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s right.”

“Yes, it does, and it’s my choice to think so. He made my life better in ways I never dreamed. You have to understand, the absence of cruelty is a kindness.”

“Indifference isn’t love.”

“When the opposite is so much worse, it can be. And you know it.”

Stella doesn’t respond.

“He loves you. Very much. In a world like this, it’d be terrible if you threw that away.”

There’s a swishing, and I shrink into the darkness of the room just in case she happens to look my way. She doesn’t, letting herself into the main room using the balcony doors near Mel.

I want to thank her for saying something, even if she made me feel like a complete and utter slimeball in the process, but Stella’s lost her forgiving nature. What Nathalie told her won’t make it come back.

Using the bedroom’s doorway, I leave the room, walk down the hallway, and reenter the main room. I slip inside, and Nathalie’s sitting next to Mel and they’re whispering over plates of tiramisu. Nathalie knows a lot about Ash’s escort service, Ladies and Gentlemen, and the shady dealings he has going on there. I hope Mel’s picking her brain for things we can use.

Any information will help.

“Does anyone know where Stella is?”

“She’s on the balcony,” Nathalie says, her fork poised over the dessert. She doesn’t give anything away.

I make another mug of coffee, my heart skittering. I shouldn’t talk to her now. I should let her think about what Nathalie said, but I miss her and I need to be close to her. Even if we don’t touch. Even if we don’t speak. I just need to hear her breathing. Inhale. Exhale.

Proof she’s alive, and she’s here. Safe.

I step onto the balcony, and she turns to me.

She’s lying on a lounger wearing a satin nightgown and thin robe. The material clings to her skin in the August heat, and perspiration shimmers on her skin.

“Hey,” I say and clear my throat.

“Hey. How did you sleep?”

“I dreamt you were with me.”

She doesn’t confess that she had been, for a little while.

“How’s Quinn?” I ask, leaning against the thick, concrete railing.

Stella smiles. “Crabby. Ornery. That’s Quinn. Thanks for paying for her medication.”

“You don’t have to thank me. She’s your friend, and I’ll do whatever you need.” I pause. “Why didn’t you introduce us? Before?”

Lifting a shoulder in an elegant shrug, she says, “She didn’t fit into your world. I didn’t feel like I fit, either.”

“Where you came from never bothered me, Stella. It only made me admire you, made me want to be a better person.” I flinch. I’ve proven anything but I’m a good person. “Can I sit with you? Just for a few minutes.” I don’t want to bother her if she doesn’t want me around. I know she’ll need time to learn to trust me again. It scares me she might not be able to.

“Okay.”

She doesn’t miss I shove the lounger closer to hers before I lie in it, but I settle onto the cushion and she doesn’t lean away.

The view is beautiful, and I can understand why she’s been lying out here for so long despite the heat and humidity.

“Did you eat?” I ask.

“Yeah. Mel ordered a lot of food. Did you?”

“I can’t. I won’t be able to eat until this is over.”

She touches my hand. “That might take a long time.”

“You don’t think it will go quickly?”

“The Blacks are rich and have powerful people behind them. You know that, Zane. We can’t underestimate anything or anyone. All anyone has done since your parents died is lie to you.”

She’s right. All that comes to mind when I think of Ash is my childhood friend. The guy who treated my sister like a princess because he loved her.

How much of our friendship was a lie?

I need to stop being stupid and believe all of it was. It makes no difference when he stopped being my friend. We’re adversaries now. Enemies. That’s what I need to remember.

“So what you’re saying is, I better eat.”

She huffs a little. It sounds like a laugh, and I hope it is. “Yeah.”

I lean toward her, and she leans toward me. I place my mug on the little glass table, and I cuddle her against my chest.

She feels good in my arms.

Flesh and blood.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, my lips pressed against the top of her head.

“Okay. Mel ordered us some clothes, too. She went a little crazy, and I got mad at her. She said you’re filthy rich, and that it didn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t. Stella, if you need clothes, you need clothes.”

“It’s not right if all you’re doing is using someone.”

“She wasn’t using me. She wasn’t ordering clothes for herself, was she? She did it for you and Quinn. I told her to.”

“Thank you, then. I didn’t need so much.”

The words stick in my throat. I’d give her whatever she wanted if she would stay with me, but I can’t buy her.

Not like Nathalie.

She hates I paid for Nathalie’s time. Well, Ash paid, but her time wasn’t free, it wasn’t given freely, and that’s the main thing. It’s funny that out of the billions of people on this earth, I fell in love with a woman who can’t be bought. I only love her more for it.

“Do you want to give Maryanne a funeral?”

Stella draws back, her eyes wide. “She has children, and they hated she fostered. They won’t want me to interfere.”

“Then maybe a memorial service. Just for us. After. To thank her.”

Stella looks at me, the moon reflecting in her eyes. “I would like that. Thank you.”

“Anything, baby.”

I kiss her, expecting her to pull away, but she doesn’t. She leans into my chest, and I lick at her lips, asking her to let me in. She does, and our tongues dance as I skim my hand up her thigh. My fingertips meet her panties, and she widens her legs, rolling onto her back.

I wiggle onto her lounger and curl into her side. I slide a finger inside her, and she’s hot and wet.

Wrapping her arms around my neck, she lifts her hips. “Zane.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Yes. No. It’s all happening so fast. I’m confused and hurt and I can’t promise—”

“I know, Stella. We don’t have a future. I know.” I might as well put the worst case scenario out there. What I hope will happen and what will come to be are two different things. I let her down in such a way she might never recover, and there’s no way in hell I can blame her for that.

“I want to try, but I need time.”

“Take all the time you need, even if that means forever. I owe you more than I can ever repay.”

“Don’t give up on me, please.” She looks at me, and her expression is so wounded, so wrought with pain, there’s nothing I can do but promise her I’ll fight until my last breath.

It’s what she deserves.

“I promise I won’t.”

She kisses me again, and her embrace feels different. Softer. Maybe Nathalie’s words did something after all. Maybe she’s thinking of this morning when she let me make love to her.

Sex has never been just sex between us. No matter how rough, no matter how much she took to absorb my pain, we’ve always had a connection. Lost, broken souls.

That drifts around us now, as my fingers find her clit, as she clings to me, crying into my shoulder.

“I love you,” I whisper. She shudders, waves of pleasure crashing through her. “I love you so much, and I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you.”

She calms, and I pull my hand out of her panties and dry my fingers on my pants. Her scent mingles with the humidity in the air, and I’ll never forget tonight, how it feels to hold her as we balance on the precipice of the most dangerous days of our lives.

Things will change, and maybe not for the better. Lives could be lost, careers will be ruined. Men my father and I admired will go to prison.

Men like Mayor Huxley will fall. Powerful men, not only in King’s Crossing, and God only knows who they’ll drag down with them.

The city lays sprawled before me.

All my life I’ve been on top.

Tonight, even holding Stella in my arms, I have never felt so low.