Page 11 of Cruel Fate

In the mirror, I give myself one last look. The dress shows off just enough leg, my hair is a blonde mess of curls down my back, my eyes have just the right amount of shadow and eyeliner.

I’ll pass, if no one looks too closely.

After all, even imitation gold shines in the light.

I meet them in the lobby of Maddox Industries at nine, right on time.

It feels odd to be at work when I’m not going to work.

Zarah and Zane look even stranger, loitering in the building’s lobby dressed in all their finery. They look like high-classescorts, or people on their way to the opera, their car running late. Glamorous extras in a movie.

They stand around, Zane with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking at the generic artwork like he’s never seen it before, and Zarah, texting away on her phone, maybe even texting me, asking if I’m still going with them.

I push through the revolving doors, same as I always do, Monday through Friday. Step through the metal detector as my purse chugs along on the x-ray’s conveyor belt, the familiar security guard waving me through, a bored look on his face. I wonder what Simon would do if I punched in looking like this.

Zane notices me first, and his gaze sears me. A fire burns in my belly, as hot as his eyes on me. His suit fits him like it was made for him, and it probably was. His hair is mussed in sexy spikes, and his tie already hangs loose, the knot an inch below the undone button.

Zarah sees me, squeals, and immediately starts chatting about things I can’t care about in this life.

“Let her catch her breath,” Zane says, reaching for my hand. “While I catch mine. You look stunning tonight, Stella.”

On his tongue, my name sounds like what it means...stars, bright and hot, spitting sparks like his eyes do when he looks at me. I glance at Zarah, but she only grips my arm and smiles encouragingly, giving me permission to be with her brother.

They’ve traded me like a sports card.

How much am I worth?

“The car’s here,” Zarah announces, stepping forward. “Let’s get this party started!”

The party started in my panties five seconds ago, when Zane looked at me. He knows it, too, the way he lets a smirk slide across his lips.

“Thank you for coming. My night significantly improved,” he says, letting me go through the door first, and I step outside into the cool evening air.

“You didn’t want to go?” I ask.

Zarah hears my question as she clicks down the stone steps to street level. “Zane needs a bit of fun. Mom and Dad wouldn’t want us to curl up and wither away because they’re gone.”

No, I want to say,they’d want to see you do something with your lives, but I keep my mouth shut.

A driver stands by the limo’s open back door, his hands clasped in front of him, waiting for us to slide inside, and I smile my thanks. He doesn’t acknowledge it, silently closing the door behind us. I feign nonchalance and pretend I ride in a limo every day, when in truth, I’ve never been driven by a chauffeur before.

Zane wraps his arm around me like he has a right to do so, but it feels too good to ask him to stop. His body is warm, stubble covers his jaw. His cologne tickles my nose, and I deeply inhale. God, I’m in so much trouble.

The limo stops in front of Temptations, and Zane swears under his breath.

“What?” I ask.

“I wanted him to drop us off in the back.”

“Don’t be a stick in the mud,” Zarah says, scooting out of the car as the driver opens the door. “It doesn’t matter.”

I have no idea what they’re talking about until Zane helps me onto the sidewalk. Reporters start yelling and camera flashes blind me.

“Zane! Over here!”

“Zane! Who are you with tonight?”

“What’s the fate of Maddox Industries?”

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