Page 42 of Cruel Fate

It’s none of his business I’m going to her apartment tonight, a place I really want to see, but he’ll find out eventually and it’s not difficult to guess how he’ll react. I’ve been inside her, but I don’t feel like I know her. Spending an evening alone, I hope to change that.

“Harper’s training her. She’s smart, and she’ll do a good job,” I press, but it pisses me off he’s put me in a position where I need to justify my relationship with her.

The waitress serves the prime rib Ash ordered without consulting me. It’s too rare, and the blood churns my stomach.

“Fine,” he snaps, like it’s his choice, “but I’m going to keep an eye on her. I got a funny feeling when I met her.”

“You do that.”

He’s not going to find anything.

I pick at my meal, and Ash does the same. We’ve never had a tense friendship, but since my parents passed away, we’ve felt at odds. Maybe I’m still raw, maybe my patience is wearing thin. Maybe what didn’t bother me before bothers me now.

I don’t know, but I hate it. Ash is my best friend.

“How’s Zarah working out?” I ask in an attempt to find a truce. We grew up together and have a lot in common. I don’t want to lose his friendship. Especially over a woman.

Even this innocent question makes him tense. “Why? What has she told you?”

I hold out my hands, my palms facing him. “Nothing. Just wondering. I only asked how her first week is going.”

“She’s fine. She’s doing fine.”

That’s all he says.

I push my filet around my plate in silence, and Ash pulls out his phone. The waitress removes our plates and serves coffee, but simmering in pent-up rage, he doesn’t notice.

“This is why you need to break it off with her,” he snarls, thrusting his phone at me.

I skim the article. It’s nothing but speculation about who Stella is. The photo that accompanies the text is a snap of the three of us standing outside our building. Zarah had just asked Stella to spend the night, and we were waiting, hoping she’d agree.

It’s a tame shot as far as paparazzi photos are concerned. Nothing that should anger Ash to the point of a heart attack. The headline’s amusing. THREESOME? But what does he expect when he’s looking for dirt onTruth or Dare? It’s a shitty website known for printing lies.

“Why are you looking for something to dislike about her? We’ll still have time to hang out, but I’m going to be busy, youknow, running my father’s company.” Maybe he’s threatened by Stella’s sudden presence in my life. That would make sense. We’ve always been bros before hos. We’ve both dated in the past, but neither of us has had a serious girlfriend.

Ash visibly relaxes. I’m right, then. Good. I’ll tuck that into the back of my mind. Be sure I make time for Ash. I’ll ask Stella to ink regular lunches into my schedule.

We blow the rest of the lunch hour bullshitting over our coffee. I tell him about the party Zarah planned, but I don’t volunteer the fact Stella is helping her. If she’s going to throb like a sore tooth, there’s no point poking at it.

We shake hands outside the club, and instead of going to the office, I go up to the penthouse.

I’m starving.

I sit through meetings the rest of the day. They should mean something, but they don’t. Denton and Cramer know I’m distracted, and frustrated, they call it before we’re done. Needing a break, needing an evening alone with Stella, I’m ready to leave by five o’clock sharp.

She’s finishing up a phone call, something about flowers, and she turns to me, her eyes bright.

Her clothes didn’t wrinkle, and she still looks as fresh as she did this morning. Using a pencil in lieu of a clip, she twisted her hair into a bun, exposing the delicate line of her neck and shoulders. It’s extremely sexy, and I want to kiss every inch of her peaches and cream skin. My cock twitches. I can have her in a bed tonight. Hers, and that’s even better.

She murmurs a goodbye and hangs up, placing the handset of her desk phone into the cradle.

“Are you ready?” I ask impatiently. I’ve waited all day for this.

“Just one second.”

She puts her computer to sleep and slips on a blazer. The color is a deep cornflower blue that matches her eyes and one of the colors in the print of her blouse. Demure, her skirt’s hem hits the top of her knees, and it makes me harder than if it showed off all her bits.

Noticing me admiring her, she blushes, the pink staining her cheeks. “I went shopping last night. We were talking about what we were going to wear to the party, and Zarah mentioned we have accounts at some of the clothing stores. I wanted to see...”

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