Page 24 of Cruel Fate

Everyone looks at her.

She’s dressed professionally, wearing a plain black sheath dress that hugs her slender frame and black flats. Her hair ispinned back in a style I haven’t seen on her before, and a deep red gloss covers her lips.

“Hi,” I say, not knowing what else to add. We aren’t friends, exactly, but we’re more than acquaintances.

“Let’s go get a drink.”

I don’t know where we can go that won’t check our IDs, though Zarah seems to have a list of places that don’t care we’re not twenty-one. Biting my lip, I scrabble for an excuse. I want to go home. I’m tired, and I wasted forty-five minutes of my day waiting for Zane to tell him goodnight.

“Please?” She blinks her huge brown eyes, and I’m helpless to say no. Like her brother, there’s something about her, and I’ll do whatever she asks.

“Okay.”

She grins, and the security guard who waved her through, only for her to turn around and walk out with me, lets us pass.

There’s still a glimmer of sun in the sky, but it’s fading fast. Zarah links our arms and pulls me down the crowded sidewalk. We’re not the only ones in search of after-work relief. People give us a wide berth, some because they recognize her and they whisper behind their hands, pointing, and others just to stay out of our way.

We stop at a pub not far from Maddox Industries.

The inside smells of beer and grease, but the interior is classy, all wood, chrome, and potted plants. My stomach grumbles. Lunch with Harper and the others was a long time ago.

A waitress wearing black pants, a black vest, and a crisp white shirt waves at Zarah and points to the back. She looks sharp, her makeup fresh, and I feel messy and tired in comparison.

Zarah grasps my hand and leads me to an empty booth under a TV attached to the wall.

The restaurant is packed, and I’m surprised the chatter and laughter doesn’t grate on my nerves after a long day at a new job. Any other evening after a stressful day, I would be soaking in a bubble bath and reading one of my books, but I sink onto the padded bench and curiously look around.

A cute bartender, his forearms covered in tattoos, is mixing and serving drinks, and other waiters and waitresses, looking just as sharp as the first, efficiently tend to the patrons.

“What is this place?” I ask, tugging my arms out of my trench coat.

“This is the Sweet Apple Bar and Grill. Their signature apple martini is amazing. You should try it. My friends and I come here a lot.”

That didn’t answer my question—I want to know what this place is to Zarah—but I let it go. I want to hear about her friends. I thought at Temptations she would have met up with other girls her age, maybe introduced me, but she hung onto Ash all night and didn’t talk to anyone outside our small group.

Changing the subject before I can ask why, she asks, “How did your first day go?”

She knows what Zane did, and I try not to let it hurt my feelings. She could have texted me and given me a heads-up, but maybe Zane asked her not to. I’d been worrying if I’d even have a job to go to this morning, and it would have been nice to be included in plans about my own life.

I manage to bite back a retort. It’s over and done with now, no reason to be mad, and I did get to see Zane. It meant a lot he wanted me at the meeting. “Good. I’ll need time to learn everything. I don’t have a degree in office management.”

“Tell me about it,” she says. “I went to work today, too.”

That surprises me. It didn’t seem like Zarah cared for any of the departments in the company. If something had caught her eye, she wouldn’t have sunk as low as the basement. I choseaccounting because the career counselor at the high school I attended recommended it, I happen to be good at it, and it offers a steady paycheck, but math isn’t for everyone. I certainly couldn’t afford to follow my passion. Even if I knew what that was.

“Did you decide on a department?” I feel sorry for the person who will train Zarah. She’ll need to teach Zarah everything from the ground up. She should go to school first. If I wouldn’t have had my degree and my short time in payroll, I never could have accepted Zane’s promotion. I still feel woefully inadequate.

“I’m working for Ash,” she says, and I sit back, my heart slamming at the sound of his name.

“Doing what?”

Just then, a waitress brings us menus and takes our drink orders, and Zarah doesn’t answer. I copy Zarah and order the same martini she does and let her order me a cheeseburger and seasoned French fries. I know why Zane and Zarah get their way with me. One, because I want to please them, and two, they’re navigating my way through this new world and I’m only too happy to let them.

The waitress leaves, our menus tucked under her arm, and Zarah leans forward. “I’m learning how to run his business. Black Enterprises does a little bit of everything.”

“Ash doesn’t work alone, does he?” Ash is Zane’s age. I suppose it’s possible Ash is a self-made billionaire, but when we met, I thought he had a spoiled and pampered air about him. That kind of attitude only comes from being spoiled and pampered. Not working for years to create a business from nothing.

“No,” Zarah says, confirming my suspicions. “His dad started their company, about the same time my dad started ours.”

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