Page 12 of Cruel Fate

“Zarah! Who are you wearing? Who’s your date tonight? Where is he?”

Stupidly, I wasn’t prepared for the onslaught, or the realization that over the weekend the tabloids are going to splash my face everywhere. Zane tucks me under his arm to fend off the photographers, but that makes them go ballistic, and one of them, somehow, gets a hold of my name.

“Stella! Are you and Zane an item?”

“Stella! How long have you and Zane been seeing each other?”

I open my mouth to answer, but Zane stops me. “Don’t. Don’t give them anything. Come on, sweetheart.”

“Do you put up with that all the time?”

Zane steers me into the club, and Zarah answers my question. Her skin is glowing, her eyes bright. She enjoys the attention. “Yeah, especially since our parents have passed away, but it’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

I could never get used to something like that. People sticking their noses into my business. No wonder Zane has had trouble coping with his parents’ deaths. He hasn’t been given the room to mourn.

A hostess leads us across the club and up to the second floor. Several people wave at us. Zane’s treated to many stares, come-hither looks, and half-naked women slink up to him and tug on his arm in an invitation to join them. I want to tell him he can go—I’m here more for Zarah. She’s the one who invited me, but he tightens his grip on my hand and juts his chin in greeting to a man sitting alone in the corner.

His hair is black as pitch, and he looks at me, his eyes narrowed. Either he’s vain and doesn’t wear glasses, or he doesn’t like what he sees.

Either way, I don’t appreciate it, and I’m not surprised when Zarah scoots across the bench and offers her lips to the weasel. The man’s eyes soften, and he gently holds her face in his hands and covers her mouth with his. This doesn’t endear him to me.In that split second, I saw what he’s made of, and I want no part in it.

“This is my good friend, Ash Black,” Zane says as he slides into the banquette. “This is Stella.”

“Stella what?” Ash asks, reaching for my hand. I imagine it to be cold and slimy, but it’s warm and dry, his fingernails buffed to a shine. Of course I know who he is. Last year he’d madeTime’s Most Influential Man of the Year because of all the charity work he and Black Enterprises have done, and his face stared at me every time I scrolled through the social media sites. He’d looked cold in the picture, like he didn’t have a soul. The impression doesn’t change in person.

“Mayfair,” I say, pulling my hand away in guise of sliding off the black trench coat I’m wearing over my dress. The evening is unusually cool, and later, I don’t want to be cold on the train ride home.

“Stella Mayfair.” Ash repeats my name, and it sounds greasy, not romantic the way Zane says it. “I know... name from...” he murmurs, and I lose most of it in the music.

The waitress skips checking our IDs, pours us champagne, and offers us a variety of colored shots. I wonder what kind of drugs are available here and if Zane would buy me any if I asked.

Zarah chugs a flute of the champagne and pops out of her seat, wiggling to the music. Ash follows her down the stairs, and on the dance floor below us, they start dirty dancing. It doesn’t take long to lose sight of them in the crowd and flashing lights.

“I guess this isn’t your typical Saturday night,” Zane says, pushing my flute closer.

“What made you guess?” I sip the champagne. I need to relax. Ash isn’t the boogeyman, and Zane won’t get into my panties if I don’t let him. I don’t even have to see him again after tonight, but I think I would miss Zarah if I decided not to mixwith the Maddoxes anymore. She has a vulnerability I can relate to, and she tries to hide it under a false bravado I identify with.

“You don’t need any of this to be entertained.”

I shrug. “I grew up without it. I can’t afford it. I’m just trying to make my way the best I can, like anyone else.”

Zane nods. “I admire that. Zarah needs some of that direction. I know you don’t think much of us partying only six months after our parents’ deaths, but for me, it’s nice to see Zarah smiling a little. Even if she’ll be a guilty mess in the morning.”

“Will she?” She looked like she enjoyed the paparazzi’s attention just a little too much for regrets.

“Yeah, she’s tried to go out before. Lunch, a play. Nothing has worked, but then she met you yesterday. She admires you.”

“I’m no one special.”

What Zane says in response surprises me.

“I disagree.” He leans forward, and his breath fans my face. “I knew there was something different about you the moment I met you. You don’t care how much money I have. All you care about is if I can be a prick or not.”

Tilting my head, I study him, the glint of the disco ball sending shadows and light flashing over his face. “Can you?”

“Yes. You saw that yesterday. I didn’t introduce you and Zarah to my ‘guest’ because I didn’t know her name. I fucked her to forget about my own pain, to bury it in pleasure for just a few seconds at her expense, and when I was done, I threw her out. But you know that, don’t you?”

I didn’t know all of it, but I nod. “Yeah.”

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