Page 65 of Cruel Fate

I study paperwork until a headache picks at my skull and I can’t read one more word, and I’m exhausted by the time I text Stella to let her know I’m on the way to her apartment. I’ve chosen a casual, upscale place for our date, and I look forward to a dark corner, a bottle of wine, and my hand on her thigh while she tells me childhood stories.

Under a tree raining yellow leaves, I park my car in front of her apartment complex. I haven’t driven in months, but Stella’s coaxing out the normal in me and it’s nice to sit behind the wheel. I feel in control guiding the powerful engine through the city.

I knock on her door, and she answers near tears. Her hair is done, and she’s made up her face, but she’s wearing a robe that’s been washed too many times and looks grey instead of white.

“What’s the matter?” I ask, wrapping my arms around her.

“I don’t have anything to wear. The clothes Zarah and I bought yesterday won’t be delivered until tomorrow.”

“It can’t be that bad. Let’s look.”

How she dresses has never bothered me—she’s stunning no matter what she wears. I love how down to earth she is, who she is under the clothes. How concerned she is about the world around her. How she does the best she can using what few resources she has.

I follow her to her bedroom and resist sliding off her robe and having my way with her on the messy bed. Resist ordering a pizza and watching another movie on Netflix.

My parents had a very private life, but they also knew the value of socializing publicly—for the good of the company as well as their standing in the city—and even if we don’t talk to anyone at the restaurant, I know I need to see and be seen. With Stella by my side, it won’t be terrible. She might even make it enjoyable.

She sits on the bed rubbing her damp cheeks, and I flip through the hangers in her little closet.

Her clothing choices for a night out like this are meagre, but the restaurant isn’t as glamorous as she thinks. I choose a black dress (not the one she wore to Temptations, though Ash’s accusation rings in my head), something she could wear to work and probably has. I don’t know how old it is, but it’s a simple sheath and if she wears a sparkly necklace, it will do the trick.

“This is fine,” I say, holding out the hanger.

She wrinkles her nose. “It’s plain.”

“It won’t be on you. Come on, we have reservations.”

We swap places, and lounging on her bed, I watch her dress. Just as I suspected, the dress will suit. It shows off just enough cleavage I’ll be drooling all night. She’s beautiful, and the black darkens her eyes to the color of blueberries. They pop against her fair skin and blonde hair. As a finishing touch, she sprays on a scent that will drive me crazy every time I inhale.

Navigating downtown traffic, we don’t reach the restaurant until nine, and I’m so hungry I feel like I could eat six entrées and twice as many desserts. I hand over my keys to the valet, and Stella waits for me to open her door and help her out of the car.

“Zane! It’s great to see you!”

I turn toward the lobby, and Chase Forrester and his wife, Mina, are heading straight for us.

Shit.

Chase works on Ash’s legal team, and we meet up at various social functions. He and his wife are older than me by about ten years, and I feel awkward greeting them without my father by my side.

“Chase. Mina. Nice to see you.” I shake Chase’s hand and kiss Mina’s cheek. “This is Stella Mayfair, my girlfriend and executive assistant. Chase works for Ash and his father.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Stella says, holding out her hand.

Chase eyes her, and Mina beams, saying, “I’ve been dying to meet you. You’re so pretty, and the camera loves you. I was watching the gossip channel and saw you and Zane at the zoo. It was adorable.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs. “We had a good time.”

Chase rubs his hands together. “Were you going in? Let’s sit together. Do you mind, or were you meeting someone else?”

I want to be alone with Stella, but this is my life. I look at her, and she takes the decision out of my hands.

“That would be lovely.”

Chase grins. “Great.”

The hostess seats us at a table near a window, and a sommelier offers me a wine list. No one asks if Stella’s old enough to drink, and I order a magnum of champagne.

Mina wiggles her bony shoulders, a pleased smile on her face.

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