Page 89 of Cruel Fate

Zane holds court at the head of the table, the lights sparkling along the walls in one of the most expensive restaurants in the city. It wouldn’t surprise me if someone said the Maddoxes own this restaurant, too. Between Black Enterprises and Maddox Industries, I wonder just how much of King’s Crossing is accounted for.

I know enough table etiquette I’m able to sit and eat without embarrassing myself, though I render one woman speechless when she asks me who my people are and I tell her I don’t know.

After dessert and coffee, I stand uneasily behind my chair alone. Zarah’s glued to Ash’s side and doesn’t speak to me. Zane shakes hands and accepts congratulations and condolences in equal measure and I get a glimpse of how hard tomorrow is going to be on him.

His parents are gone, and he would trade everything to have them back. I’m not sure if I’m included in that, or if I want to be. If Lark and Kagan Maddox were still alive, I’d still be a small-time clerk in payroll, safe in my corner cubby listening to Connie bitch, and I don’t know if it’s a position I would have given up freely if the choice had been mine to make and knowing what I would be given in return.

On the way back to the penthouse, Zane sits in the limo, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. He may have been born for this, but it doesn’t change the emotional toll it takes.

I tuck myself into his side as the city slides by.

Zarah went home with Ash, of course.

She was quiet and didn’t speak one word. That’s not an exaggeration. Ash, always in control, would interrupt anyone who tried to speak to her or ask about her ring, cutting them off, glaring and saying the official announcement would be made soon. Willow seems to like her, offering her sympathy and support, smiling faintly or lightly touching her shoulder, and I hope Zarah found an ally. Because as much as I hate to think it, Zarah is going to need someone.

Douglas drops us off, and we stand outside Zane’s building. I breathe in the chilly air. Winter is coming, maybe sooner than in previous years.

I pull my coat closer around myself, and Zane watches, gauging my reaction to the dinner. He’s always afraid I’ll be exposed to something that will change my mind about us, about the kind of life he’s asking me to share with him. I see the fear in his eyes reflected in the moon’s hazy light.

I cannot fathom why this beautiful man needs me, but I’m thankful for it every day.

Holding his hand, I urge him inside. He was waiting for me to say I wanted to go home, but I can’t leave him alone. Not on a night like this.

“Thank you,” he whispers as the lift carries us up to the penthouse.

“For what?” I ask, though not as quietly.

“For tonight. For tomorrow. For always.”

The elevator doors open to the penthouse and he’s on me, ripping my coat off my body and sinking his teeth into my shoulder, his fingers clawing at my dress. Violently, he yanks his tuxedo jacket off and tosses it onto the marble floor.

“You need to go on the pill so I don’t have to fuck with these,” he says, tearing into a condom packet that materialized out of thin air. I teeter on my heels, blood rushing through my veins.

His cock is already dripping, and before he can sheathe himself, a drop hits the floor.

I prepare for him to be rough, and my muscles clench in anticipation. I’m his relief and he’ll take his tension out on me, but I love him for it. He needs me, and this is one way I can give to him.

His dress pants are hanging low on his hips, and my dress is twisted around my waist, my panties in shreds near his discarded jacket. I’m wearing my heels, and he lifts me up to settle me onto his erection. I hook my ankles together against his ass and lock us in place.

He pushes inside me, and my breath slams out of my lungs. I’ve never been screwed against a wall and the texture hurts my spine, but he thrusts, panting my name against my lips, and every thought leaves my brain in bursts of pleasure.

I grip his arms—they’re bands of steel holding me in place— and I cry out when he repeatedly hits my center.

He comes so powerfully I’m afraid he’s going to have a heart attack, but he gradually calms and rests his forehead against mine. “I’m sorry. Tonight...”

I smear a kiss from his cheek down to his jaw. “It’s okay, Zane. I love you. I don’t have much I can give you, but you’re welcome to what I have.”

He pulls out and lowers me to the floor. My legs tremble, and I totter precariously in my heels. He steadies me against his chest, his starched dress shirt rubbing against my cheek. “You’re too good for me.”

I wrap my arms around his waist, pushing my hands inside his shirt and brushing my fingertips along his back. “You know that’s not true. Let’s change out of our clothes, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Zane kisses me and steps into a small bathroom down the hallway to clean up.

I hang my coat in the closet and struggle to undo the buckles of my stilettos. I straighten my dress and brush at the sequins looking for damage, but it looks like it survived Zane’s passionate lovemaking. I brought pajamas and everything I’m going to need tomorrow. I want to spend as much time with Zane before the party as possible, and I didn’t want to waste time running back to my apartment.

In his room, I change into a tank top and pair of shorts. I could wear fancier lingerie—Zarah encouraged me to buy some at Boutique 1961—but I’m not used to wearing nightgowns and negligees, and there’s no reason to when I’m alone. Zane would love it if I spent every night at the penthouse, but I want to keep my apartment for a while yet. I feel like there’s still so much of him to get to know, and I need a place to hide if I find something that scares me. Even if that’s my own feelings.

---