Page 19 of Cruel Fate

“Good luck, Stella. You got this.”

My smile wobbles. I hope so.

Juggling my purse, coat, and a small cardboard box carrying my few things, I ride the elevator to the executive floor. The car lets me out into a huge lobby where four receptionists answer phones.

Tall white letters hanging behind them on a black wall spell outMaddox Industries.

If payroll is the dirt of the company, the twenty-fifth floor is the flower, what the public sees, what the clients see. I wonder ifI’ll have a clothing allowance—I can’t be Zane’s assistant dressed like this.

“Miss Mayfair?” A glamazon approaches me, her arm stretched out in welcome. I can’t shake her hand, and I lift my box instead.

She laughs. “I’m so sorry. My name is Harper. I’m Mr. Denton’s assistant.”

I don’t know who Mr. Denton is. Someone involved with running the company, but Harper speaks as if I should know him. It reminds me of how far removed from reality I am. I want to see Zane and thank him for the opportunity, but I also want to kill him.

“Nice to meet you.” Hopefully, I’m making a good impression. The ladies who work on this floor will be my mentors, my allies, until I can fit in and do the job on my own. If any of them take a dislike to me, my position will become miserable very quickly.

“Zane, Mr. Maddox, asked me to show you where your desk is located and to give you a tour of the floor. He’s in a meeting right now, but he said he would join you for a coffee break at ten-thirty to speak with you about your duties.”

Harper leads me to a massive desk, a state-of-the-art Mac desktop sitting on the gleaming surface. A phone that has too many buttons to count is positioned next to it, lights blinking and dimming at an alarming rate.

She notices my dismay, opens the top drawer, and lifts out a white box containing a sleek, brand new iPhone. “Don’t worry about the phone. The receptionists handle most of that. Zane prefers you use a cell. We’re all so pleased he came into the office this morning. These last six months have been so hard on everyone.” Resting a hand on my shoulder, she continues, “When he asked me to show you around, he was almost smiling—you must have blown him away during your interview.Whatever you need from me, ask. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep that smile on his face.”

“Thank you,” I murmur.

Is Zane really that happy I’m going to be his assistant?

Ash’s warning rings through my brain. What will this look like? Zane will defend me, won’t he? It isn’t any of Ash’s business what I do, but he’s made it his business to protect his friends.

I follow Harper around the executive floor, and she shows me where the restrooms are, where the breakroom and coffeemakers are located if Zane ever asks me to fetch a mug for him or if I need to serve it during a meeting. The luxurious conference rooms are equipped with flat screen TVs, leather chairs, and long, shining tables that look like they cost as much as a car.

She introduces me to more people than I can keep track of, but everyone seems to know me. By the time we’re done, my head is whirling, but I feel welcome.

“I’ll leave you alone to get settled. Check your email. HR will have sent your sign-on package. If you have any questions, email them or you can ask me. Welcome aboard, Stella. We hope you like it here.”

“Thank you,” I say, sinking into my chair and jiggling the smooth white wireless mouse to wake my computer. There’s already a plaque on my desk that has my name engraved on it, and a small stack of business cards sits next to it. Black, they have the Maddox Industries logo in the corner.

Stella Mayfair. Executive Assistant.

The title is followed by a cell number, my work email, and a landline that must be connected to the phone on my desk.

Either Zane has been planning this since the moment we met or he has a very efficient staff.

Ten-thirty comes quickly, and I’m finishing writing down a message for Zane when a door opens down the hallway andhe and two older men step into the corridor. He sees me and brightens. It’s difficult to stay annoyed, but I remind myself that my position is safe for only as long as I capture his fancy.

“Stella,” he says, approaching my desk.

One of the men slaps him on the shoulder, but Zane doesn’t acknowledge him. He’s staring at me, a dopey smile on his face, and I need all my willpower not to smile back.

“We need to talk,” I say.

His smile falls and I kick myself, but Maryanne’s words surface and triggers what little common sense I have left.Take care of yourself.

Zane doesn’t need to work. No matter what he does, he’ll have food, somewhere to live. If something happens to my job, I may not be so lucky. I’m only one or two paychecks away from not being able to pay rent or falling behind on other bills. The world is a cruel place, and I learned that a long time ago.

“Okay. I was hoping you weren’t going to be mad about this.”

I follow him into his office, and I look out the wall of windows. The view is amazing. I walk across the carpet, my heels sinking into the thick piling, and I rest my hand against the cool glass. My entire apartment could fit inside this room. Twice.

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