Page 69 of Cruel Fate

I don’t know if she still wants me to go inside. Our romantic dinner turned into two hours of unintentional barbs and insults. Mina didn’t mean half of what came out of her mouth, but Stella isn’t the forgiving type, not about something like that.

“Do you still want to stay?” she asks, not meeting my eyes.

“If you want me to. Stella, look at me.”

She does, and her blue eyes are frozen over.

“Those kinds of people are a part of my life. They’re what make up my social circle. I won’t call them friends because they’re not, but my life is full of people who take how they grew up and their families’ money for granted. Mina didn’t look down on you, so the least you could do is cut her some slack.” I don’t add that the minute Mina’s home, she’ll probably call her ten best friends and tear Stella apart. I hope she won’t. I hope they’ll give her a chance, but they could be like Ash, hate her on sight because she’s poor.

She looks down at her lap.

“I’ll go home.” I’m proud of my family and how I grew up, and I won’t let Stella punish me.

Covering my hand with hers, she says, “No. Stay. I’m sorry.”

I turn the car off and open her door. When I picked her up, I didn’t bring in my bag, and I do that now. Silently, I follow her into the building.

Her apartment could fit inside the penthouse’s foyer, but I like spending time here. I’m not Zane Maddox, CEO of Maddox Industries. I’m not even Zane Maddox, Kagan Maddox’s son. I’m just Zane, who eats pizza, likes sex, and sleeps like the dead because when I’m with Stella, I can relax and stop pretending to be something I’m not.

In her bedroom, we change into our pajamas. I ask if I can pull the pins out of her hair, and she sits next to me on the bed. For every bobby pin I pull out of her twist, I kiss the back of her neck, and she shivers.

It sounds stupid, since I’ve fucked my way through half the women in King’s Crossing, but this is the most intimate I’ve been with a woman. Sitting in silence and shadows and unpinning her hair.

When I’m done, she turns, her blonde hair falling down her back.

She’s wearing a tank top and matching lounging pants, and the little tattoo inked into her skin peeks at me. I rub my lips across the dove on her shoulder. It suits since Stella gives me the only peace I can find these days. She offers me a huge comb, and I brush the snarls out of her hair.

I’m getting hard and I want to make love, but it’s nearing midnight. I can drive us in the morning and it will be faster than riding the bus and train into the city, but we’ll still get barely seven hours of sleep.

“Thanks,” she whispers.

“You’re welcome.”

We brush our teeth, and this is another thing I like. I’ve never brushed my teeth with a woman before. I’ve never let them stay long enough.

She gives me gummy vitamins, and amused, I chew on them and wait for my turn in the bathroom.

The lights are off and we’re lying in bed, and I roll over and gently place my lips on hers. She wraps her arms around my neck and a piece of me that was still worried she was mad about dinner falls away. I don’t want to lose her because of what or who I have to be. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

Stella turns away and burrows into her pillow. “I know it’s not you.”

But.

Itisme. There just isn’t much I can do about it.

I lie in the dark and listen to her breathe.

There’s an expectation. A waiting.

I struggle to stay awake—she wants to ask me something. If the chance goes by, she won’t ask. Some things are better said in the dark.

“Do you think he did it?”

“Did what?” There are a lot of things Ash did.

“Beat up that girl.”

“He couldn’t have.”

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