Page 5 of Cruel Fate

“Stella was telling me some stories about payroll.”

That’s her name. Stella. It fits her. I’m sure she’s heard the line “stars in her eyes” a million times and I won’t be so tacky as to say it now, but it’s what I think when I search her bright cornflower blue eyes, the blush still staining her cheeks.

Exquisite.

“Stella? From payroll? It’s nice to meet you, Stella from payroll,” I say and hold out my hand. She places her hand in mine, and an electric zing travels up my arm. I can’t help it. She’s like no one, nowoman, I’ve ever met before, and I feel a physical loss when she pulls away.

“Is that where you spent the day, then?” At first, I thought my sister was crazy for taking my idea seriously and sampling every department of the company. I almost tried to talk her out of it—it had just been a joke—but I realized it would be good for her to figure out what she wanted to do and finally enroll in school. Instead of moving away after high school graduation and jumping right into more classes, at Mom’s urging, she’d waited, and they’d been discussing universities before the plane crash. I’m proud of my sister for trying to move on, though how she ended up in payroll I have no idea.

I can’t tell you where payroll’s located in the building, nor did I ever care. Our employees need to be paid, but I never knew how my father went about it. It will be my responsibility now, whether I like it or not.

“It was my last stop,” Zarah says. “Quit being rude. Stella Mayfair, this is my brother Zane Maddox, Zane, Stella. She’s been with us for six months.”

I use the introduction to hold her hand again, and Zarah misses nothing. We’re on one side of the island, Stella on the other, and Zarah kicks me, her toes poking painfully into my leg. “How do you like it?” I ask.

“It’s been pleasant so far,” Stella says, her mouth empty of cheesecake. I want to kiss her, taste the wine my sister served them to complement Lucille’s heavenly dessert. Lick Stella’s mouth clean, devour her like a starving man.

I can have any woman I want, but somehow this one has captured my attention. To think she’s been in the building for six months. Had we met before my parents died, had she been by my side when I heard news of the crash, how would I have handled their deaths? Would I have went on my drunken spree ending up in a ditch twenty miles outside of the city having no recollection of how that came to be? Or would she have grounded me, this angel, to earth?

I’m being too poetic.

Her voice sends shivers quivering around in my belly, and for the first time since Mom’s and Dad’s deaths, I feel a flicker.

“I should go,” Stella says and slips off the stool. She stumbles, and I dash around the island to steady her.

Zarah gives me a look, but tersely, I shake my head. This isn’t just to touch her. She’s had too much wine.

“Sorry. Just a little tipsy. Not used to drinking so much.” Stella giggles, and the musical sound tickles my ears.

I should have majored in creative writing instead of business. Stella brings out the romantic in me.

Zarah scoffs, believing no such thing. “You barely had any. You need more tolerance.”

Stella doesn’t need anything. She’s perfect the way she is, and I purse my lips and glare at my sister. “Will you get home okay?”

I want to know everything about her. Where she lives. What she does when she’s not at work. Who she’s dating. She could be married for all I know. Her ring finger is bare, but I’ve fallen into that trap a time or two. A ringless finger doesn’t always mean availability.

“I’ll be fine. I always ride the train. It’s no big deal.”

The train doesn’t sound safe on a Friday night if she’s tipsy. “I should drive you.”

Stella leans away. “I’ll be fine.”

“Leave her alone,” Zarah says, jumping off her stool and rounding the island. “She’s not one of your whores.”

That quiets me. I don’t have a reputation as a ladies’ man. On the contrary, I choose my women very carefully. Or at least, I did before the accident. The past few months have been hard on me, and I won’t deny I haven’t sought solace where I could. Usually, that means between the legs of a woman I pick up at the bar, but that isn’t me. That’s not who I am underneath the grief. Zarah knows this, and her words cut me.

She must like Stella if she’s protecting her from a man who, under normal circumstances, would never hurt anyone. But Zarah’s right. These aren’t normal circumstances, and it’s best to leave Stella alone. I step back. “Be safe.” That’s the only thing I say, and I leave the kitchen, pushing the doors open, the music I didn’t turn off thumping in my room upstairs.

Their laughter is gone, and all I hear are murmured goodbyes and the elevator doors gliding shut.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” Zarah pads into the living room and wraps her arms around me. “But I like her. She doesn’t care. Or didn’t seem to, anyway.”

I know what a gift that is. To be liked for who you are, not what your parents can do for them or who you’re connected to. Being invited along because it’s expected you’ll pay the bill at the end of the night. It’s why rich kids hang with other rich kids. But money can’t buy you friends, not true friends, and if Zarah has found a friend in Stella from payroll, I won’t interfere.

“I’m happy for you. But...you know she doesn’t come from money, don’t you? The suit she wore, the earrings.”

“I know, and if she doesn’t care I have money, then I don’t care she doesn’t. She listened when I spoke. Not to see how she could kiss my ass, or how to use what I say against me. She listened and replied, and I listened and replied. We had a conversation between two people, two women.”

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