Cruel Hearts (King’s Crossing #2)

Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Zane

I don’t let myself break down. Stella needs me strong.

I lay her on the bed, and she blinks at me. She’s adorable in her red wig and glasses. I’m grateful Mel didn’t let her go off on her own. I can picture her stumbling around King’s Crossing, drugged out on pain meds, looking like a sexy hooker, and some sick fuck taking advantage of her.

“Stella,” I say, cupping her cheek in my hand and rubbing my thumb along her cheekbone, “how are you feeling?”

“Sore, but,” she wiggles her fingers in front of her face, “light.”

“Would you like to relax in a bath?”

“With you?”

“Yeah, if that’s all right.”

“Okay.”

She dozes while water fills the large tub.

I owe Mel a million dollars for asking Stella to wear a bulletproof vest. I never thought of it, and once again, I’m not being realistic, not fully comprehending how much shit we’re in, how evil Ash is. She was standing just inches in front of me, and he tried to kill her.

The expression on her face when the bullet hit her will never leave my brain for as long as I’m alive, and the hollow feeling in my heart that threatened to swallow me whole while I talked to the detective will last just as long.

The tub is full of warm water, and I turn the faucet off and undress. I unpin Stella’s wig and pull the glasses off her face. She meets my eyes and flinches, the drugs and lies twisting what she knows. She’s afraid of me, and it rips me to shreds she believed my show, even though I warned her. These few days together haven’t been enough. There’s too much damage, and she’ll need time to feel secure in my love. Because of our different pasts, maybe she never did.

It’s up to me to fix that.

The bruise blooming above her left breast knocks the breath out of my lungs. Bright red in the center, it’s spreading into her breast tissue and under her arm. It looks swollen, painful, and hot to the touch. We’re lucky whoever tried to kill her used a handgun and not a rifle like the one that shot Quinn. The vest wouldn’t have kept her alive.

I carefully undress her, and she rubs my jaw. I lean into her touch like Max’s cat whenever someone runs their hand over the top of his head. I can’t remember the last time I thought to shave, but Stella likes my scruff and I don’t worry about it.

When she’s naked, I pick her up and carry her into the dark bathroom. I sink to the bottom of the enormous tub and settle her between my legs, my back against the wall. I add more hot water, and I hope a long soak will help her relax. Her head lolls against my shoulder, and she hums. That pain pill may have been too much, but I’m thankful for it if she’s not hurting. I lather a washcloth and smooth it over her shoulders, breasts, and belly. The fake blood stained her skin, and her whole body is a rainbow of painful color.

Kissing her shoulder, I mumble, “I love you, Stella. I’m sorry this happened.”

“You don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, baby.”

“That’s good.”

She twists in my arms, and her lips meet mine. I gently nuzzle her mouth, holding her tightly, but hopefully not so much I’m hurting her. In these coming days, I’ll need to find a balance between keeping her safe and giving her the freedom she’ll want and need to help us.

“I thought you were dead, and I’ve never felt so lost. You can’t leave me. Not ever again. Will you promise me?”

Pain and fatigue are hazy in her eyes, but I’ve never seen her look more beautiful. She doesn’t answer me, just sighs and presses her cheek against my shoulder. Maybe it’s too much to ask now. Maybe I don’t have the right. Maybe the promises won’t mean anything until the Blacks are in prison, but I need something to look forward to. Something to keep me going.

“Will you marry me, Stella, when this is all over?”

She rubs her foot over my leg.

The minutes tick by, and I think she won’t answer. I try to convince myself that it’s okay. She told me she loves me, and that’s enough. It will have to be. I swirl my fingertips over her back and kiss the top of her head.

Finally, she draws a breath and asks, “If I say yes, will you buy me a yacht?”

Laughter bursts out of me, and water sloshes over the side of the tub. I hug her as tightly as I dare. “Stella, if you can forgive me for being a stupid asshole and love me enough to let me put a ring on your finger and promise to love you forever, I’ll buy you whatever the fuck you want.”

I bury my face in the curve of her neck.

“All I want is you.” Her voice is low, sad, and wispy thin. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Seems so simple, but you keep slipping through my fingers.” She lifts a hand and lets the water dribble from her palm.

Her words chill me, and there’s nothing I can say to defend myself.

I wash her hair and slick conditioner through it. We soak until our skin prunes and the water cools. I drain the tub and so very carefully, I lift her out. Even after soaking in the warm water, she’s stiff, and I keep hold of her so she doesn’t fall.

“Do you need another pain pill?” I ask, rubbing the white terrycloth over her skin. Every inch of bruising is my fault. Everywhere the towel touches, I brush my lips.

“No. I just need to sleep.”

She doesn’t have clothes or pajamas in the room, and she crawls into bed naked. I pull the comforter up to her chin and kiss her lips. She’s sound asleep in seconds. I slide into bed next to her and turn off the bedside lamp. I text Mel and ask her to give us twelve hours, and she replies, sending a thumbs up. I owe her for keeping Stella safe, but by the time this is done, I’ll owe a lot of people a lot of things.

I toss my phone on the nightstand. Weary to the bone, I’m exhausted, but I don’t fall asleep. At least, not right away.

Instead, I think about all that we need to do and what will be on the agenda in the coming days.

Stella cuddles into me.

She’s all I need, and I watch over her while she rests.

Her death changed me in ways I can’t explain.

Ash thinks I’m weak. He thinks I trust him.

He’s wrong on both counts, and I can’t wait to show him just how wrong he is.

The afternoon melts into evening, and Stella wakens long enough to use the bathroom and goes back to sleep.

Sometime in the late morning I managed to fall asleep, and it’s past dinnertime when I shower. I’m worried Stella has internal bleeding. She’s supposed to be dead and I don’t know how we’ll find her medical attention if she needs it. My money can buy a lot, but it doesn’t create miracles. If it did, I would have paid for my parents to come back a long time ago.

I dress in slacks and a white dress shirt, and I kiss Stella and let her be. She needs rest more than anything.

In Max’s room, everyone’s jumpy.

Denton paces.

Mel and Paulo are on their laptops.

Max is writing the article he’ll submit to the Chronicle.

Quinn’s supposed to be taking it easy, and she and Nathalie are watching a movie. Only her jiggling leg gives away her agitation. Her tired eyes meet mine, but she doesn’t pounce on me like I expected. Our talk in the ER has at least put us on the same page.

Zarah sits in the corner of the room watching everyone, her eyes large and inquisitive. Her gaze lights on me, and I feel a tug of remorse. I brought her here, dumped her on Ingrid, and haven’t said much to her since.

This is the part where we wait for Stella’s death to fade out of the news, and it’s fortunate that rising gang fatalities are center stage. Stella’s death may not need as much time to blow over as I feared, at least, not on regular news. Truth or Dare will keep Stella’s death front and center, and I should plan a night out with Nathalie to give the paparazzi something else to talk about. In the meantime, we need to find things to do so we don’t go crazy. We can’t blow our cover, and we can’t let Ash know what we’re doing or where we are.

Slowly, I approach my sister. She’s still wary of me, and I understand. In her mind, Ash and I are linked as friends, and I’ll need to invest a lot of time and patience to prove otherwise.

Max watches me out of the corners of his eyes. It pisses me off he thinks he has to protect my own sister from me. Deep down, I can appreciate his protectiveness, but in this case, it’s misplaced, and I bristle.

I kneel at her feet, and she leans away by instinct. This is the position we would be in at Quiet Meadows—me on the floor, begging her to talk to me, Zarah sitting in her wheelchair, frightened and shutting me out. Breaking the habit, I sit next to her instead. It will take time to repair our relationship, but I’ll do whatever I have to for that happen.

She sighs, sensing the subtle change, and tentatively, she smiles and waits for me to speak.

“Would you like to go for a walk?” I’m prepared for her to say no, that she’d rather stay away from me, but she nods and reaches for my hand.

It’s a start.

I tell Ingrid she can take a break, and she crosses the room to the Keurig and the leftovers from a dinner I didn’t eat.

“Are you hungry?” I ask Zarah.

“No, I’m fine.”

The drugs have hidden her, or I guess more accurately, they’ve turned her into a different person.

Quiet.

Watchful.

Suspicious.

Dr. Reagan authorized Ingrid to drop three of the meds and cut one dosage in half per day. That leaves her on two requiring a full dosage, and they’ll need the longest to wean her body off of due to their addictive qualities.

“Let’s go outside, Z,” I say, using the nickname I called her years ago. Maybe the more I can connect us, the easier it will be to convince her to trust me again.

“Okay,” she says, and like a child, she keeps her hand in mine as we walk down the corridor. We go upstairs to the roof. One of the Crowne’s most popular amenities is the pool, and it sparkles in the early evening sun. The air is humid, but this high up, a slight breeze gives us a little bit of relief.

“Can I?” Zarah asks, tilting her head toward the pool.

“You want to swim?”

“Just my feet.”

“Oh, sure.”

It reminds me she’s been deprived of the little things. Ash robbed her of so much because I let him.

Zarah rolls up the legs of her satin lounging pants, and she sits at the edge of the pool.

“It’s cold!” she giggles, moving her feet under the water.

Someone painted her toenails pink.

“Come sit,” she says, patting the concrete next to her.

I nudge off my shoes, pull off my socks, and roll my pants to my knees.

My slacks will still get wet, but I’d dunk my whole body if it meant having more of these quiet times with my sister. She’s not ready for the conversation I want to have with her, and I start carefully. “Z, I want you to know that none of this is your fault. You aren’t to blame for any of this.”

Tears fill Zarah’s eyes, and as they drip down her cheeks, the sun catches them and turns them to crystal. “Ash took Stella because of me.”

I place a finger under her chin and ask her to look at me. “No. Ash took Stella because of me . She tried to warn me, and I didn’t listen. That night at the party, she knew if she tried to talk to me, I wouldn’t believe her. Trust me, Zarah. I know this is all my fault.”

She lays a hand on my knee, and her fingers tremble. “Stella came back.”

I force a smile. “Yeah, she did.”

“She came for me.”

Something I didn’t do, and Zarah’s barb hits home. “Yeah, she did.”

“Do you still love her?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

We sit quietly. Crows and seagulls fly along the river searching for food. Cargo ships have used the Renegade for hundreds of years, but the barges look huge and out of place floating through the richest section of King’s Crossing. The water is a murky brown, dirty, and like the barges, looks out of place flowing between the fancy buildings sitting near the impeccably landscaped shores.

“Zarah, Stella told me what Ash made you do. I’m not going to let him get away with that.”

Her expression closes off—she doesn’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to force her, but when this all goes to court, and it will, Zarah may need to testify. Like Nathalie. Like Stella.

“You don’t have to tell me what those assholes did to you, but it would be helpful if you could give me their names.”

She kicks her feet in the water, her pink toenails flashing against the blue. Her hair blows into her face, and she squints into the sun.

I was told Zarah’s nurses took her for regular walks outdoors, but I can’t think anything is the truth anymore. This could be the first time Zarah has spent any time outside in the past several years. We sit for close to an hour, and I don’t pressure her. I live in the moment, focus on the beauty of the evening. That my sister is by my side. That Stella’s downstairs, and that she loves me.

Zarah’s answer catches me off guard. I forgot I asked the question.

“I don’t remember their names.” She tips her head back, and her hair swings against her shoulder blades in the breeze. “They were angry, and they hated Dad.”

Painstakingly, she slowly describes three men, picking through the drugs and the holes in her memory for their features. Hair color, physiques. One wore a wedding ring, onyx stones circling the silver band. I know who she’s talking about the second she describes it, but details of the other men don’t trigger any names. She wants to please me, give me the information I want, and she kicks in frustration.

I rest a hand on the back of her neck. “Shh, it’s okay, Z.” I pause. “They paid Ash to sleep with you.”

“They hit.”

My mouth goes dry. What she says shouldn’t surprise me, but I can’t wrap my mind around a man hitting a woman. Even at my worst, I never hit Nathalie. “Do you know why they hit you?”

“Because our dad cost them lots of business deals.”

Jed Miller, the one who wears the wedding band, has always tried to one-up Maddox Industries. After my father passed away, I didn’t have any contact with him, but there were rumors Nigel and I stepped on his toes quite a few times when he helped me pull the company out of the abyss I let it fall into.

I didn’t realize Clayton and Ash had started courting him. I wonder if he’s still one of Ash’s clients and if his wife knows. It will be my pleasure to see to it that she finds out.

Zarah leans into me, and I wrap my arms around her. She lets herself relax, and we sit like this until my ass turns numb. I wiggle, trying to find some relief, and she feels my discomfort. She stands and rolls her lounging pants to her feet.

“Do you want to go back downstairs?” I ask.

“No. Can we stay for a little longer? I like how I feel up here.”

“As long as you want.”

I sit in a cushioned patio chair while she explores the rooftop. There is so much that needs to be done, and I have no idea where to start. I feel like a little kid waiting for an adult to tell me what to do, except, I’m the adult and the one in charge.

I can direct a multi-million dollar merger, I can negotiate business deals with some of the richest, most powerful men in the world, but the idea of bringing my childhood friend to his knees terrifies me. So much is riding on doing this correctly, covering all our bases so that Ash and his father pay for every single crime they’ve ever committed.

Zarah basks in the sun, exploring the plants and the wet bar, feeling how warm the water is bubbling in the hot tub. She looks so much like our mother did, and she’s the age our mother was when she had me. Years of my sister’s life have been stolen and she’ll never get them back. Would she be married now? Would she have children?

She peers into a fridge that’s behind the bar, pulls out a bottle of water, and sits on a stool to drink it.

I stand to sit next to her, but my cell rings.

Ash’s name flashes at me.

I want like hell to let it go to voicemail, but I can’t. We all have parts to play. Stella needs to play dead, and I need to pretend Ash and I are still good friends.

“Ash,” I say, accepting the call.

“Zane. I heard the news about Stella. That footage is fucked up. You almost got shot. Why didn’t you call me?”

I never once thought about my own life on the sidewalk last night. It had been all about Stella.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s been crazy around here. Fucking mugger. I should have given him my wallet like he wanted.”

Ash scoffs. “Why? So he could use the cash to buy drugs?”

“Well, Stella would still be alive.”

“Who gives a shit? Good riddance as far as I’m concerned. She would have been a leech for the rest of your life.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I grit my teeth. How like him to assume people who haven’t been able to do well for themselves only want to use you, when all along he’s been the user.

“I know I’m right, and so did you. You looked like you were going to slap the shit out of her. I would have liked to have seen that.” He laughs. “I never liked that bitch.”

Zarah’s still sitting at the bar, and she watches me. I’m close enough she knows who I’m talking to, and the color seeps out of her cheeks. This charade could hurt her, and going forward, she’ll need to know for certain where my loyalties lie.

“Are you going to give her a funeral?”

I choose my words carefully. Too callous and he won’t believe me, but I can’t be too sentimental because I’m supposed to be in love with Nathalie.

“Her body is part of an investigation. They won’t release it. When they do, I’ll look into giving her a proper burial. She doesn’t have anyone to do that for her.”

“It’s more than she deserves, Zane. All she wanted was your money, and then she disappeared when Cardello offered better.”

“I know, but like you said, she’s gone, and I have a new chapter to look forward to. There’s no reason to hang on to the resentment.”

Ash’s tone loses the sharp edge. “Speaking of that, I want to invite you to dinner. You and Nathalie. She landed her whale, and I’d like to congratulate her. You have a way of attracting the gold diggers, you know that? I don’t know why you insist on dating the poor girls. After Stella, you crave cheap cunt or what?”

“Nathalie helped me through a tough time.”

“That’s why I gave her to you, but that doesn’t mean you have to marry it. She signed a contract with the club. Maybe I shouldn’t have let you have her—I’m losing a good worker. Anyway, I know, I know. You’ll do what you want. Can’t blame you there. I do whatever the fuck I want, too. How’s Zarah?”

“She’s well. She likes to be outside.” I tighten the screws. Ash doped Zarah up to keep his secrets, and I want him to know his time is coming to an end. I need to tread lightly, though. I do not want him targeting my sister. “She’s under the care of our family physician now, and he lowered the doses of some of her medication. She’s starting to speak a lot more, and she’s becoming more aware of the world around her.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. Maybe you made the right call.” That’s all Ash says about her, and I’m relieved he doesn’t push the matter. “Dinner tomorrow night then. Eight o’clock at Luna Blanc.”

“Sure, Ash. Hey, man, thanks for being there. Stella fucked me up. It’s time to put the past behind me.”

“It’s not a big deal, Zane. We’re brothers. I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

The line beeps, and the tension rushes out of my body leaving me limp and covered in sweat.

Zarah stares at me, and as I walk across the rooftop, she starts to shake.

I slide my phone into my pocket and hold up my hands. “It’s pretend, Z. I have to pretend to be his friend for a little while longer. We need time to plan so he’ll go to prison for what he did to you and Stella.”

She’s not sure but nods her head. “Okay.”

“Like Stella. It’s pretend she’s dead. You know it’s not true. You know she’s downstairs sleeping. Right? The news says she’s dead, but she’s not.”

“It’s a game,” she says, brightening.

“That’s right. It’s a game, and we’re going to win.”

Zarah’s reluctant to go inside, but she has to use the bathroom and the ones up top are locked during the renovation. The sun is setting, and I wouldn’t have minded another hour with her to watch the sun sink into the horizon. I should be tired, but my sleep schedule is all screwed up. It’s nine o’clock, and I’m wide awake.

Downstairs in Max’s suite, I settle Zarah next to Ingrid and she asks my sister where we went, starting a conversation Zarah looks happy to participate in. I kiss her cheek, thankful we were able to spend time together that was comfortable. She hated me and was scared of me for five years, but I know it’s all my fault. I’ve missed her very much.

I need to speak to Nathalie and let her know what Ash said, and I find her in the room she chose watching TV. She’s twitchy, bored. She’s scared, and maybe even hates me a little because she knows after this is over, she’s not getting what she really wants—me. It would have been easy for Nathalie and me to fall into a bland, cardboard life. Stella was gone and I didn’t care about anything but money, booze, and sex, and Nathalie would have fit right in. I certainly didn’t care about falling in love, passion, and creating a family. But Stella came back and shot Nathalie’s chances all to hell. That must have caused some resentment, but I hope to Christ she controls it. We don’t need any more conflict.

“Hey,” I say, leaning against the doorjamb. I don’t go in any farther, and she doesn’t invite me to. “Ash called. He summoned us to dinner tomorrow night at Luna Blanc.”

“Why?” Her tone is defensive and anxious.

“He wants to congratulate us and celebrate our engagement. I had to accept. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to go.” She presses her lips into a thin line.

“I know, but you’ll be with me and there’s no reason Ash will do anything to us.”

“Ash doesn’t need a reason to do anything.”

“That’s true, but if we do what he says, then we won’t give him one. Nothing’s changed for you, Nat. Just cooperate and act happy. You should be. At least you’re not the mayor’s sex doll anymore.”

“That was better than this.” She angrily throws the remote against the wall and it bounces onto the floor.

I step into her room and sit on the edge of her bed. Stella’s presence has eclipsed everything else in my life, and I feel badly Nathalie’s turned into someone I used to sleep with and nothing more. In my defense, planning Stella’s death has consumed me, but I’ll need to let other things in or nothing we do is going to work.

“You don’t mean that. What’s wrong?”

“Stella’s pretty.”

“Yeah, she is.”

“She loves you.”

“I hope she does, and I’m grateful for it.”

Nathalie picks at the bedspread. “I love you, too, you know. When you told me you were going keep me, I thought...I thought we were going to be together. But you’re just like the others. Using me to get what you want.”

Her confession doesn’t surprise me, but I wish she wouldn’t have said it. There’s nothing to be gained by it. I’m not in a position to love her back.

I never was.

“I’m sorry you think that. I would rather you think you’re helping us destroy a very powerful, evil man. Him releasing you to me only helps you . What about the other girls? Your friend, Mandi? The women who share your apartment building? I know you’re a better person than that. You’ll have what you need to start over, I promise. That should be enough.”

She narrows her eyes. “What if it’s not? What if I don’t help you unless you give me what I want?”

I draw in a breath. “I’m in love with Stella, and I’ll never give you what you want. Go ahead and walk, if you’re brave enough, but you know how dangerous Ash is. Do you want to gamble with him, or do you want to work with me? Ash was using you too, you know. What does he do to the women he no longer finds useful?”

She lifts her chin and says, “That wouldn’t be me.”

Slowly, I nod. “You can take that chance. Tell him you’d rather keep hooking than marry me. Maybe he’d believe you and you could keep fucking the mayor, but maybe he’d wonder why you’re turning down the chance to be a billionaire’s wife. Or don’t tell him anything and you can see how far you get on your own. Stella can tell you that it’s not very far.” I sigh. “Please, Nat. Don’t bet on this. I have the cash to play—you don’t.”

I caress her face, her eyes so like Stella’s. Nathalie brought me a huge amount of comfort, and I need to remember that.

My parents were dead, Stella had disappeared, and after Zarah broke down, I was completely alone.

Until Nathalie.

It’s because of Ash I needed her in the first place, but none of this is her fault.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you more,” I murmur.

“Me too.”

I leave Nathalie in her room staring at the bedspread clutched in her fist.

I’m sorry I can’t be the person she needs me to be. She’s lived for Ash for the past seven years. It will be a difficult journey, but eventually she’ll learn how to live for herself. I know what it’s like to feel alone. I know what it’s like to feel as if no one loves you. I haven’t learned to live for myself, either. One day I may need to heed my own advice.

Shuffling down the hallway, I go in search of the one person who can push those feelings away.

Stella and Quinn are sitting in Max’s suite, and I don’t interrupt them though I crave to be part of their circle of friendship. I’ll need to find a way to keep Quinn in Stella’s life. That was one of my problems before. I wanted Stella all to myself, and when I had her, I couldn’t see beyond our relationship. Moving her to my office, hanging out at her apartment.

We’ll be two halves of a whole, but in her half, she won’t be alone, and I’ll have to do my best so I’m not alone in mine. It’s the only way our relationship will survive.

As much as I hate it, I let Stella and Quinn catch up.

Mel’s still on her laptop, and Paulo occasionally points to something on the screen. Denton looks on in interest, but his gaze flits to Stella every now and then.

Max is sitting by Zarah’s side. He’s proven he’s solid, and I appreciate the investigating he’s done on the black box. I can only pray the transcript will have the answers we need to prove Clayton Black killed my parents.

When Stella’s death blows over in the news, I’ll call my contact at the FBI and schedule a meeting. It will be interesting to poke him with what I know. He’s held all the cards before, but I do now.

I like that feeling much more.

Our family doctor hasn’t called after examining Zarah at the penthouse the morning I brought her home. I want to update him on how Zarah’s doing, but I also have a few questions. I step into the hallway. Zarah doesn’t need to hear me talking about her. I connect to his personal cell number and the line rings only twice before he answers.

“Dr. Reagan, it’s Zane.”

“Zane, is Zarah all right?”

“She’s fine, but I thought it’d be best if I check in. It’s been a few days. She’s doing well.” I pause. “She’s gotten close to someone, a man, and I wanted run that by you. Should I be concerned about it?”

Dr. Reagan breathes heavily into the phone and grunts as if he’s hefting himself out of a deep chair. “I wouldn’t think so. She’s relearning to socialize, and if he isn’t too demanding and respects her space when she needs it, spending time with others can only help draw her out. I’ve been reading through her medical history, and the documentation indicates she wasn’t allowed much, if any, one-on-one, private, conversation. She sat in on group therapy sessions and nurses allowed her to mingle outside on occasion, but they didn’t want her speaking to anyone but you and Ashton Black. No, I think it’s fine.”

That relieves me. I think she would have been disappointed if I’d needed to put a stop to her and Max spending time together. She’s already been deprived of so much. “I’m happy to hear it.” I lean against the wall, a cream sconce casting a yellow glow near my head. “Have you found out any information about the facility?”

“I was going to call tomorrow and let you know. I researched the sanatorium’s history, what I could, at any rate, and I spoke to a friend at the American Psychiatric Association. When your sister was admitted, things at Quiet Meadows were quite unstable.”

I straighten and walk a few more steps down the corridor. “How so?”

“At the time, the owner wasn’t interested in furthering its reputation in the psychiatric community and didn’t want to keep possession of it.”

“What do you mean? Further its reputation?”

“With a facility such as Quiet Meadows, it’s encouraged, almost expected, that research is conducted and advancements in patient treatment are made. The doctors on staff wanted to move forward with Alzheimer’s and dementia testing, but they weren’t given the support they needed for such studies and drug trials. My contact at the association said it was about the time Zarah was admitted that the Blacks purchased the facility. I believe it was to give Ashton Black complete access and control over your sister. I doubt the Blacks cared about medical growth, but neither did the owner of the facility. The sale went through within hours. I found it interesting that the sale was kept under wraps.”

It would be like Ash to spend millions of dollars to keep my sister’s mouth shut. “Ash owns the facility now?”

“From what my contact could tell me. Holding companies buy and sell properties like a real-life game of Monopoly, but sifting through the present evidence, I have no reason not to believe it.”

I don’t either and say so. “I appreciate it, Dr. Reagan. Thanks for your time.”

“Goodnight, Zane. I’ll have my assistant give you a call to schedule Zarah’s follow-up.”

“Thank you. Goodnight.”

I disconnect the call and slip my phone into my pocket. It’s one more thing I can hang Ash for when all is said and done.

I head back to Max’s suite, and everyone is where I left them.

Not having anything else to do, I make a cup of coffee and sit at the conference table with Mel, Paulo, and Denton.

Denton’s eyes harden and his lip curls in disgust. I should talk to him soon. He believed Stella when I didn’t and I owe him for saving her life. He thinks I don’t deserve her, but no one knows that more than me whenever I look at her.

Once this is done and the dust settles, there’s a possibility she won’t want a relationship, that she’ll want what I’m giving Nathalie—a fresh start somewhere else. Where she won’t have to hear my name.

Stella notices me staring at her and wrinkles her nose. Quinn elbows her, and they laugh. I catch a glimpse of the girls they used to be growing up in foster care together, having only each other to rely on.

It’s coming up on midnight, and though I’m still not tired, I go to bed. It’s important I’m clearheaded, and I should rest when I can. Things will start happening soon, and who knows if there will be time to sleep.

In the Honeymoon Suite, I slide into the cool sheets wearing my boxers and nothing else. I scroll through the gossip sites and all anyone can talk about is what an asshole I am. When everyone believed Stella and Cardello ran away together, they called her a gold-digging tramp. Not many reporters or bloggers came to her defense. Now a still of my hand hovering in the air to slap her is being regurgitated everywhere online, and suddenly I’m the nastiest son of a bitch on the planet.

A man without compassion. Without a heart.

Comments under the picture range from praising me for not putting up with a woman’s shit, to saying I should have been arrested for assault.

No wonder Stella believed me. I look horrible, the rage on my face palpable. That photo was taken only a second before Paulo approached us.

She looks beautiful, of course. The fear in her eyes turns my stomach, but it’s what we needed. The comments and the blogger’s own slanted piece to accompany the photo tell me I did what I was supposed to do. Convince the world that Stella Mayfair and I are done, that I have no feelings for her. That I’m ready to move on. Dinner with Ash and Nathalie will finish the job.

Ash won’t suspect anything, and while I play at being his best friend, I’ll destroy the son of a bitch.

Stella opens the door wearing pajama shorts and a tank top. The bruise over her heart spread and darkened, and stiffly, she pads over to the bed.

“Hey,” I say, dropping my phone onto the bedspread.

“Hey. I heard you and Zarah went for a walk. How’s she doing?” She sits on the mattress, and it barely dips under her weight. Her hair is a mess of platinum around her shoulders, and her movements waft a vanilla scent through the air.

“Good. I spoke with her a little about the men Ash sold her to. Got a name and suspect a few others. Friends of my dad’s. So many people hate us, and I had no idea.”

She holds my hand, and I struggle not to grasp it like a lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“No, I am. I was too na?ve. Too trusting. I was too closed-minded, and I’ve hurt a lot of people.”

“Not trusting people can hurt, too. All my life I searched for grownups I could trust and depend on, and no one ever stepped up until Maryanne. I made her work for it, too. In the end, if you don’t trust anyone, you live a lonely life.”

“You have people you can trust now.” I pull my hand away. “Denton, Quinn. Mel. Zarah and Max.” There’s no point in including myself. I lost her trust a long time ago, and I haven’t earned it back yet.

She lifts a corner of her mouth in a sad smile, knowing what I said...or didn’t say. “Are you staying here? Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“I shouldn’t, but I don’t want to be alone right now. I would like that.”

She crawls under the bedspread and curls her body next to mine, and I turn off the light and set my cell phone on the nightstand. She snuggles into me, and I breathe her in. I lay with my arms wrapped around her as her heart beats against my chest.

She’s my whole life, this woman resting her head on my shoulder. Tearing down Clayton and Ash’s empire is nothing compared to losing her. Living without her is scarier than facing Ash.

But if I have to, I’ll do both.

I dress for dinner at the penthouse. Elegant and expensive, Luna Blanc is one of Ash’s properties. I don’t know who will be there or who Ash’s date will be, and we need to make a good impression. Earlier, I pushed down a sick feeling in my gut and gave Nathalie permission to go shopping. I’m afraid she won’t follow my orders and she’ll try to run away. Everyone thinks I’m a prick, but I really do care about her safety. After our engagement is announced, her spending my money like a giddy fiancée will be expected, and at some point, I’ll need to trust her to be alone.

I didn’t think Ash would run with the news the way he did, but he would have questioned my sincerity and motives if I’d declined his invitation. After all, not just anyone would pay two million dollars to buy a woman they didn’t love.

Ash didn’t think I was that kind of a man, and two weeks ago, I wasn’t.

Stella changed me.

She saved me from the type of man I should never have become.

Nathalie walks upstairs, several bags hanging from her arms and her hair pinned into a fancy twist. She’s serious about it, at least, but she’s not happy and doesn’t speak to me.

Before Nathalie and I left the hotel, Stella didn’t, either. When I woke up, she was gone, and she spent the day glued to Mel and Quinn, putting as much distance between us as she possibly could. She doesn’t like my faux relationship with Nathalie, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

Nathalie slips on a scrap of a dress, barely any material, and only a web of straps crisscrossing her back keeps it from pooling around her feet. She’s gorgeous, and if Stella hadn’t escaped Ash’s, had I still been blind to what he was doing, this evening could have been a very real possibility.

All I wanted was not to be lonely. I never said I wasn’t a user, but I’d like to think I gave something back or Nathalie wouldn’t be so angry the nature of our relationship changed.

I’m ready to leave first, and downstairs, I wait near the elevator, pacing the floor and hoping like hell this evening goes smoothly. She meets me in the foyer, her heels delicately clicking against the marble. A frown mars her pretty face—she’s still angry I’m forcing her to do this.

“You look lovely,” I say, tugging the unmistakable blue box from Tiffany out of the pocket of my pants. I ordered the earrings last night, hoping they would thaw her out and persuade her to cooperate.

She unties the white ribbon, and I open the lid. The dangly diamond earrings glitter against black velvet, and her eyes widen. I can see the gears turning in her head, calculating how much they cost.

I shouldn’t resent her for it, but I do.

“Thank you,” she says, taking off the earrings she was already wearing.

I gently push the posts through the holes in her earlobes. “You’re welcome. They look beautiful on you.”

She stares at herself in the hallway mirror, tilting her head, the diamonds twinkling.

I remember a different evening when Stella, Zarah, and I met Ash, his parents, and a few of my parents’ friends for dinner. Afterward, I took Stella against the wall, right here. I skim my fingers over the paint, missing her like crazy.

Because of the August heat, Nathalie doesn’t carry a wrap. In my suit, I’ll sweat all night.

Douglas is waiting in front of the building, standing next to the limo. His skin is pasty, and his eyes won’t meet mine. I must seem despicable dating Nathalie while Stella’s at the hotel healing, but it is necessary. We have to hit home Stella’s dead, and that I don’t care that she is. Me being seen and photographed in public with Nathalie is one of those ways.

He drives us across town without saying a single word.

I drink a whiskey sour and Nathalie sips champagne. She quickly reaches the bottom of the glass.

I grit my teeth in annoyance.

She knows what we’re trying to do, and I wish she would at least try to understand how dangerous this is. She’s been in on the plans since ground zero. Maybe I should have coached her more, but she’d be even angrier than she is now. She’s smart—all I can do is trust her. That’s a big part of the problem. I don’t.

Paparazzi loiter outside the restaurant like I knew they would be, but I still sigh in frustration. Douglas glides to a stop at the curb, and the eager paps turn our way. Limos mean celebrities. I step out of the car and twist to help Nathalie out, but Douglas slams the door trapping her inside.

I don’t see her reaction. The windows are tinted too dark.

Douglas turns to address me, tears wetting his eyes. “What is it?” I ask in alarm, a hand to his shoulder. Rarely have I seen him cry. The night Ash shot Stella was one of those few times.

He sets his face and says stiffly, “I’m sorry, Zane. I’ve worked for your family for over thirty years. I drove you and Mrs. Maddox home from the hospital when you were born, and I feel I have the right to say this. You have no business being with this woman —” he says the word like an expletive— “when Stella, Miss Mayfair, is lying in the morgue. She was the epitome of grace and kindness, just like your mother, and you have no right.”

What?

My mind races as reporters yell at me to answer their questions. The hospital. Douglas drove us to the emergency room and was there when I tried to talk to the reporters. What had I looked like, unable to speak around the pain breaking my heart? The detective questioned me, and then Douglas drove me to the hotel. I grieved in the backseat. That wasn’t pretend. Loss, betrayal. I couldn’t think of anything else. I really thought Paulo had shot Stella. Douglas dropped me off...I sent him home...and never told him Stella’s alive and that her death is a charade.

Fuck.

“Stella was someone special. I don’t care if you and she had a falling out. I saw the pictures of her and Sergio Cardello, the same as everyone else in the city. Whether I believe them or not is of no concern. That woman was generous, and she had a big heart. If she left you, she had good reason, and she doesn’t deserve her memory tarnished in this way.”

I open my mouth to stop his tirade, but he holds up a hand. “I know I’m out of bounds, and if you want to terminate me for voicing my thoughts, so be it.”

The paparazzi snap pictures of me talking to my driver. The gossip sites online will be full of speculation about what we’re arguing about. I wish he would have picked a better time to confront me, but there’s nothing I can do about it now except fix it as quickly as possible.

I’m stupid for not asking for his help. When things start moving, he’ll be a valuable asset, and he should have been in on this from the moment I decided to work with Stella, Denton, and Max. No, before that. The second I found the ring I gave Stella in Ash’s desk drawer. He would have found her and kept her safe. He would have believed her.

His tears have dried and in their place is anger and disdain.

I hold out my hand. He doesn’t want to shake it, but he finally does. I pull him into a hug, our hands clasped between us. Murmuring into his ear, I say, “We’re not on the same page. Go to the Crowne. Tell the manager I sent you and ask to see Mel Sanchez. Everyone is in the Presidential Suite on the top floor.”

He tries to step back. “Stella. Miss Mayfair—”

“Is alive. She’s hurt, but she’s alive. Mel will fill you in. It’s my fault you’ve been left in the dark. My apologies, Douglas. My only defense is I’m not very good at this, but I’m getting better.” I squeeze his hand once more and let him go.

His face stoic, revealing nothing of our conversation, he touches the tip of his fingers to his cap.

With his professionalism back in place, he opens the door for Nat, and she’s fuming. She should be used to being arm candy —and being treated as such—but she’s part of the team and she feels that’s given her some rights. Maybe including her did put us on an equal footing, but a woman like her...if I give her an inch, she’ll demand a mile. She was more docile when the power scale was tipped away from her, but now she knows I need her and she’s not afraid to remind me.

Nat steps onto the sidewalk and pastes a smile on her face. The paparazzi love her. She took care of her mother and did what she could to pay bills and put food on the table. Not that they know what she’s been doing, really been doing, but it was easy enough for them to find out she was on the payroll at Ladies and Gentlemen and the reason why she accepted Clayton’s offer of employment.

I can see her writing a tell-all book one day. Maybe in the end, I’ll let her. She can divulge all the ways she helped push Black Enterprises to its knees.

As we walk up to the front doors of the restaurant, the reporters and photographers shout at us. I wrap my arm around Nat’s waist, tuck her close to my side, and answer the pertinent questions.

“What will happen to Stella Mayfair’s body?”

I repeat what I told Ash. “The KCPD hasn’t released her body. When they do, I’ll hold a memorial service, and anyone who would like to attend will be welcome to. She grew up in King’s Crossing’s foster care system, and she may have a few foster brothers, sisters, and parents who would like to pay their respects.”

“Do they have any leads on who shot her?”

Shaking my head, I say, “No. Because of a gang turf war, every available officer was needed elsewhere. By the time an officer arrived at the scene, the shooter had disappeared, but as of right now, the case is still open.”

“Are you and Miss Barton engaged?”

I force cheer into my voice. “Yes, and I’m over the moon that Nathalie has agreed to be my wife. We plan to have a long engagement and enjoy each other before the wedding madness starts.”

She flashes me a dazzling smile. “Maybe not too long,” she teases.

Chuckling, I brush my lips over hers to give the paparazzi something to print. I lift my head and they shout more questions, but I’ve been patient long enough.

“What happened to your face?” one asks, smirking.

Asshole.

I tap my finger against my cheek and tell him the truth. “This is what you get when you make the wrong female pissed at you. A little warning, gentlemen.”

They laugh.

“Come on,” I mutter to Nat and lead her into Luna Blanc.

The cool air feels crisp against my skin, and Nat breathes a sigh next to me.

We follow the hostess to a banquette hidden in a dark corner of the restaurant. Ash is already there sitting next to a woman I’ve never met, but she looks familiar. She doesn’t have the deer-caught-in-headlights expression like Nathalie’s friend, Mandi. Either she’s new and doesn’t know better or she’s protected by who she is.

He stands, smoothing his tie, and kisses the back of Nat’s hand. I’m impressed—she doesn’t flinch or pull away.

Ash is a wonderful actor. Not one blink betrays the fact that for seven years he sold this woman to whoever would pay, including the city’s mayor. I give him nothing to indicate I know and casually shake his hand, leaning in and turning our handshake into a one-armed hug. He’s a good actor, but I’m learning how to be one, too.

He studies the angry red scratches streaking down my cheek and raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t comment. “Eleanor Guthrie, this is Zane Maddox, and his fiancée, Nathalie Barton. You know who Zane is, of course, and Nathalie was in the...entertainment business.” He chuckles and continues, “Zane, Nathalie, this is Eleanor, but she prefers Nora.”

She stands, holding out her hand, and lightly grasping it, I kiss her cheek.

Now I know why her face is familiar, and why she’s not scared of Ash. She’s the daughter of Minnesota’s governor, Alan Guthrie. An attorney herself, she specializes in human rights and has successfully prosecuted several human and sex trafficking ringleaders in the state.

One of the cases Nora helped blow apart took place right here in King’s Crossing about four years ago. She worked undercover for months, hanging out in bad parts of the city and partying with young girls who were easy targets. They kidnapped her, and she was a crucial piece of the team that brought down one of the largest human trafficking outfits in the city.

I wonder why she and Ash are having dinner together.

Ash orders champagne, and Nathalie hums in appreciation as the sommelier walks away.

He ordered Cristal, of course.

“What’s the occasion?” Nora asks, puzzled and amused.

“Zane and Nathalie are newly engaged,” Ash says, tipping his head toward us, the usual hard glint in his eyes. “They haven’t officially announced it, but I wanted to start celebrating.”

“Congratulations,” she says to Nathalie. “I bet you’re excited. First marriages for both of you? That will be a big party.”

“First and last,” I answer for Nat, kissing her cheek and trying not to choke.

Ash waits until the sommelier returns to our table and serves us to explain, “I asked Nora to help me plan our annual fundraiser. This year we’ve scheduled it on a later date to enjoy the cooler fall temperatures, and we’ll hold it outside as a change from a stuffy ballroom. We’re focusing on the sex trafficking that is going on right under our noses. Hundreds of women and children go missing in our state every year. Black Enterprises wants to put a stop to that.”

Nathalie tenses, and her hand trembles as she sips champagne that costs the equivalent of three months of her rent.

Ash has balls, I’ll give him that.

“Oh? That’s an interesting choice, considering Ladies and Gentlemen,” I say, leaning back against the banquette’s cushion and cuddling Nathalie to me. Ash has to have an angle or he wouldn’t be doing this.

He smiles ruefully, but Nora laughs and says, “His strip club isn’t a concern. The women who work there do so of their own free will. They’re paid more than a fair wage and are treated better than any men’s entertainment club in the Midwest. I’ve looked into it. Trust me, I wouldn’t partner with Black Enterprises if it appeared to be a conflict of interest. I have my reputation to consider.” She beams at Ash and he rubs his thumb across her cheek.

“Let me know what I can do to help,” I offer half-heartedly. I paid him for Nathalie and I’ll never give him, or any of his foundations, another dime.

“I was wondering if Zarah could help us plan, ease her back into our social circle,” Ash says. “She’s so good at it. Or at least, she used to be. Lark taught her well.”

“She’s still acclimating to being at home. It’s been quite an adjustment, as you can imagine,” I reply smoothly, needing all my willpower to hide how pissed I am he has the audacity to bring up my sister, and never once mentioned, not even as a passing side note, he bought the facility where he kept her prisoner.

“Yes, you’re right. Maybe next year,” he says and changes the subject.

Cocky son of a bitch.

Now that he thinks Stella’s gone, Ash is relaxed, and I hate him more than I ever have.

The drinks flow freely—Ash orders a second bottle of champagne—and Nora has a crazy sense of humor for an attorney involved in such devastating work.

I’d like her if she wasn’t so willing to partner with Ash.

“How are you contributing to Ash’s foundation?” I ask as the server clears our dinner plates.

Nora pats a starched white napkin to her lips, and she leaves behind a smudge of red lipstick. “I’ll be the keynote speaker at the event.” Her fingertips dance discretely over the back of Ash’s hand. “It’s so important, but even today, talking about sex, much less talking about paying for it, is taboo and we shy away and pretend it’s not happening. Thousands of women are sold into prostitution every year, and people need reminders those women are mothers, wives, sisters, and daughters. We can’t turn a blind eye simply because it’s an uncomfortable subject. Dismantling those organizations is our primary goal, but it’s only the beginning. Women who are victims need a place to live or resources to help them reunite with their families. Education. Therapy. In some cases, drug rehabilitation. All that requires funding, and Ash’s foundation will make that happen.” She sips her champagne.

Nathalie’s fingers dig into my knee and I press a kiss to her temple to steady her.

I would imagine the men who pay for the privilege to abuse women don’t like to talk about it, preferring to keep that bit of unsavory business to themselves. “That does sound like a noble cause,” I agree. “How are your other foundations doing? Did Stella’s idea to create an organization that would support foster children ever come to fruition?” I lost sight of that after she disappeared. She and Mina Forrester were going to work together, but I hadn’t followed what came later.

The server sets dessert plates in front of us and hurries away.

“Our foundations are doing quite well, thank you for asking. We’ve been fielding inquiries regarding surrogacy and medical treatments such as IVF. We’re looking to develop into those areas after the new year.”

He speaks proudly, but I have difficulty believing his sincerity. I can’t reconcile the man who runs an escort service and sold my sister with the type of man who would care about helping couples become parents.

Of course, he doesn’t think running his escort service is wrong. He doesn’t think the way he treats women like Nathalie is wrong. He sees it as giving them a roof over their heads, food in the fridge, nice clothes to wear...and a job. As for Zarah, I may never know why he hates us so much he would do that to her.

Picking up his dessert fork, he continues, “Mina wasn’t interested and she dropped the organization. That was supposed to be Stella’s passion. Mina took one of her husband’s friend’s new wives under her wing.” He turns to Nathalie. “As Zane’s fiancée, you’ll be expected to do charity work. Lark was very involved and chaired several committees. Do you have any ideas of the kind of volunteer work you’d like to do?”

Nora nibbles small bites of her cake and watches, her gaze darting between Ash and me. There’s an undercurrent of tension, and I wonder if she feels it.

“I would love to be involved in the human rights work you and Nora are doing. It’s a sad world we live in if a woman can’t earn a living wage except on her back. It would be lovely if there were human services programs that offered assistance so they don’t have to resort to something like that. Resources should start at the governmental level, don’t you think? Rather than private funding, I mean.”

I’m glad I wasn’t eating or drinking anything or it would have ended up all over the table. I don’t think the kind of support Mayor Huxley’s been giving her is what she has in mind.

Ash’s lips twitch. “Then you and Nora should trade contact information. Perhaps she can pass along your thoughts to her father.”

Nodding enthusiastically, Nora says, “Dad loves to talk about that kind of thing. He’ll be attending the fundraiser, and I’ll introduce you.”

Our conversation melts into lighter topics and the rest of the evening passes pleasantly, though the tension doesn’t completely dissipate.

The clock is inching toward eleven o’clock, and annoyed and missing Stella, I’m ready to go. I’m about to open my mouth and say so, but Nathalie interrupts. “Please excuse me. I need to freshen up.”

Reluctantly, I stand, and so does Ash.

“I’ll go with you,” Nora says, tugging on her purse strap and sliding out of the banquette.

Ash waits until they’re out of earshot and then asks, “What the fuck happened to you?”

Gingerly, I prod at the scabs crusted on my cheek. They still burn like fucking mad, and I never did find any antibiotic cream. I hope they’re not infected. As it is, they’ll need weeks to heal. “Nothing. A pissed off—” hurt and grieving— “female. She got in a good swipe.”

He huffs a laugh. “I hope she looks worse than you.”

“Maybe I deserved it.” I know I did. I deserve so much more.

“That’s what you get when you scrape the bottom of the barrel,” he says, sipping the dregs of his champagne. “Like Nathalie. Still don’t know what you see in her. She’s gorgeous, but have a little class.”

I’m grateful for the change in subject, such as it is. “You don’t find it distasteful you’re working with Nora and playing matchmaker at the same time?”

Ash sniffs. “I’m not sure what you mean. What, exactly, has Nathalie implied?”

“Nothing. You told me she worked at Ladies and Gentleman, and I’m not stupid. I know what goes on in the back rooms of strip joints like yours.”

“Nathalie never needed to work overtime, on her back or otherwise. She was popular enough—though she was always given plenty of opportunity.”

I turn my coffee cup on its saucer. “You’re saying she never had sex in exchange for money. My fiancée never spread her legs for this,” I say, rubbing my thumb and fingers together.

Ash opens his mouth, then closes it. He drags in a deep breath and says, “Look, I compensated her for the time she spent with you, and for a while there, it was a lot. You needed her, I get it, but she couldn’t work her hours at the club. So did I pay her for fucking you? Yes. Freelancing wasn’t prohibited in the contract she signed when I hired her, and whatever else, whoever else, she did off the clock wasn’t my business. That’s between you and her now, and you can pay her how you want to pay her. Sometimes, Zane, what you see is exactly what you get. Like Stella.” He pauses, looks down at the tabletop, then meets my gaze. “I’m sorry about how all that went down.”

I curl my lip. “No, you’re not.”

He laughs, and my skin prickles. “No, I’m not. She got what she deserved in the end.” He tilts his head. “Do you mind if I ask why she wanted to see you? Was it only about money?”

“More fucking lies.” I force anger and bitterness into my voice. It’s not so hard, staring into Ash’s hawk-like face. “She told me the entire five years she was gone, she was trapped in your building. That fucking pissed me off. I knew she was screwing Cardello. The photos were everywhere. It made me crazy she thought she could lie, and more than that, that I would believe it. I’m not sorry the bitch is dead. Did you find out who was trying to kill her?”

Ash clears his throat. “No, but outside of Cardello, I’m not sure who else it could have been.”

“I called him, you know,” I say, baiting him.

He flinches. Just a bit. Had I not been looking for it, I would have missed it.

“I told him about Stella’s death and offered my condolences, such as they are.” I pause, trace my finger around the rim of my cup. “I asked about the picture.”

“Which one? There were so many,” he says drolly, raising an eyebrow.

“The one of them on his yacht. She was pregnant.” The emotions that swamped me the day I saw that picture still threaten to drown me whenever I think of it. “Stillbirth. Cardello said that was the beginning of the end of their relationship. She took it hard. Their daughter is buried in the Cardello family cemetery.” The lies fall easily from my lips. Even if Ash calls Cardello to confirm that’s what he told me, Cardello will say anything I want him to say. He’s on my payroll now.

Hitching my ankle onto my knee, I lean back and settle into the banquette. I like knowing what game we’re playing. I like knowing I make up the rules. I like knowing I can change them anytime I want—and don’t have to tell anyone I’m doing it.

Ash will know what I want him to know and nothing else. Exactly the way he played me.

“Zane, I’m sorry. I think that would be difficult for any woman, but sometimes Karma steps in when we least expect it. You shouldn’t feel sorry for her.”

I scoff. “I don’t, but he sounded pretty shaken up about it. He was looking forward to being a father. His family needs an heir. He’s seeing someone now, and they’re going to start a family as soon as possible. I congratulated him, said no hard feelings, and he said the same. I guess we can put the whole sordid thing behind us.” I pause. “I’ll always miss her, though. The part of the girl who would bring me to a pumpkin patch. It’s too bad a crown turned her head. I would have given her the world.”

“Hey,” Ash says, and the urgency in his voice has my gaze lifting off the black-tiled floor. “You deserve someone who will treat you right. I may not believe Nathalie is that woman, but you believe it and that’s all that matters. I just want to see you happy.”

The sincerity in his tone takes me aback, and I blink. This is how our friendship could have been, but his father is the reason my parents are dead. Clayton Black sells weapons on the black market, arming terrorist regimes who could, at any time, target the United States.

I can’t let myself get wrapped up in Ash’s escort service. We’ll put a stop to that, but it’s small potatoes compared to the other things the Blacks have done. Someone has to see justice served, and that someone is me.

“That means a lot to me. Thank you. Nathalie will make me happy. She already does. Look at her.” The women are walking across the restaurant, and Nathalie looks magnificent. Expensive. As if she’d been born into it, like Zarah. Nat’s a professional at keeping herself alive. She’s done whatever, and whoever, it took, including me. “She’s perfect.”

She smiles, and the delicate skin around her blue eyes crinkle, not giving anything away. Any anxiety she must be feeling, she’s buried deep.

“Yes, you might be right,” Ash murmurs. “I’m going to throw you an engagement party. My father wants to congratulate you as well, but he had another commitment tonight.”

“We would appreciate that, wouldn’t we, Nat?” I stand as she approaches the banquette.

“Of course. We’d love it,” she replies, snuggling against me, inviting me to wrap my arm around her, which I do, because we’re in public and that’s what men do for the women they love.

We walk through to the lobby, and everyone stares. People can’t tear their eyes away from Nathalie. The reporters and gossip mongers will continue to splash her picture and background all over social media. Her working as an escort will never come to light—I trust Ash will keep that underground to protect her clients—but eventually my public relations team will need to spin Nat’s employment at Ladies and Gentlemen and gloss over how we met and why I would want to marry a woman who danced there.

To give the patrons a show, I gather Nat in my arms, resting my palm on the nape of her warm neck, and kiss her, slanting my lips over hers.

I put all the feeling I can into it, and people take our photo, trying to be discreet and failing.

It shreds my heart knowing what Stella will think, and I’m fully aware that I may need to choose between destroying the Blacks and exposing all the horrible things they’ve done and keeping Stella.

The Blacks have torn so many lives apart. My parents’, mine. Zarah’s. Stella’s. Nat’s.

Women who have no choice but to let Ash control their bodies in exchange for survival, who have no choice but to take off their clothes to pay bills and feed their families.

All the men, women, and children who have perished at the hands of terrorists armed by Clayton Black.

The choice is clear, but not simple.

As I shake Ash’s hand and he wishes me a goodnight, I wonder what else the Blacks have done, or are doing, because while what I’ve discovered is definitely enough, I don’t think it’s the end.

Nathalie sits next to me in the limo, but she doesn’t make any advances. Maybe she realized things will be easier going forward if she does what I say. Or maybe our dinner with Ash has reminded her just how vicious he can be. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful. I’m not in the mood to fight her off.

Douglas is off shift, and the driver I use in his absence cuts smoothly through the traffic. I instruct him to go to the Crowne, but I check my phone and Mel sent a text cautioning me about going there. Sighing, I ask him to drive us to the penthouse instead. I want to see Stella, but she’d be too angry to talk to me anyway.

I lean against the seat and watch the lights blink out my window. A small ball of stress eases in my gut. Ash believes that I believe he wasn’t the one trying to kill Stella when she came back to the city. He believes she’s dead and that I’m not sorry about it. He believes what Nat and I have is real.

Dinner went as well as I wanted it to go, and I’ll lay even more groundwork at the engagement party.

I squeeze Nathalie’s hand.

A smile trembles on her mouth. She hates helping me, and as she, Stella, and Quinn know, it will be dangerous.

We have a lot to lose.

What we have to gain is even greater.