Page 62 of Cruel Hearts

I sit up straighter, Ash’s building behind us. “I thought you worked for Ashton Black.”

“I never said that.”

She turns into the parking ramp that’s connected to Maddox Industries. Gripping the door handle, I realize she’s working for Zane. But why does Zane want to see me? He’s already hurt me in a way that will leave me destroyed forever.

I follow her to a skywalk that connects the garage to Zane’s building, and we’re waved through a small security station that I’ve never seen before. The elevator is familiar, but it doesn’t hold any fond memories. I don’t want to remember my time here.

We stand stiffly in the lift, low instrumental music playing as we glide up to the twenty-fifth floor. Zane changed offices, and it disappoints me. He didn’t want to stay in the office where we made love for the first time, where he backed me against the wall and ate me out. He was so quick to leave every facet of our relationship in the past. He also hired a new secretary, and whenthe woman leads me by her desk, she smiles sympathetically. I return it. I’m sorry her boss is such a selfish and unfeeling asshole.

My captor doesn’t knock, simply pushes the door open, revealing him staring out over the city. I always thought him so boyishly sexy, but these past five years have turned him into a man. A dangerous, sensual, brooding man. Broad shoulders, trim hips. Hands capable and competent. Skilled. He brought me to orgasm so quickly. Knew just where and how to touch me. To shatter me.

He turns, and his big brown eyes grow wide, like he didn’t think this woman could do her job. Like he thought he’d never see me again.

After I’m done, he’ll wish to hell he hadn’t.

I hope he knows how to wash blood out of his suit, because I am going to make him bleed.

“Stella—”

I fly at him in a fury, and before he can even think to defend himself, I attack, raking my nails down his cheek and ripping at his hair, snarling.

“Jesus Christ,” he howls in shock, pushing me off.

I’m not so easily deterred, and I get in another good swipe, adding to the streaks of blood blooming across his face. The woman swears in what sounds like Spanish and yanks me away, trapping my hands behind my back.

Struggling in her grasp, I spit in his face. “That’s for Maryanne, you son of a bitch.”

His hand shakes, and he pulls a white handkerchief out of his pants pocket. Wincing, he dabs gingerly at his cheek. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t knowwhoyou’re talking about.”

My chest heaves and I try to break out of the brunette’s grip, but her hands are like steel and I can’t gain an inch. I strainagainst her, my flats digging into the carpet as I try to make headway toward him. “Don’t give me that shit. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Explain.”

That one word breaks free a torrent of tears, and I sag, no longer having the energy to fight, no longer having the energy to care.

She lets me sink to the floor.

I’m on my knees. At his feet. At his mercy. Where I’ve always been since the first moment his eyes met mine.

“Maryanne,” I gasp around my grief. “My foster mom. She’s dead. You had her shot to hurt me. To destroy me. Mission accomplished. You took away the last person who meant anything to me.”Including you.I don’t have to say the words for them to hit home.

He turns away, pressing the handkerchief to his cheek.

The woman offers me a tissue, and I dry my tears. “What do you want from me? Haven’t you taken enough? Why am I here?”

Zane ignores me. “Mel, will you check into Stella’s foster mom? What was her last name, Stella? Her address?”

“Why thefuckshould I tell you? You’ve already done all you can to her.”

He speaks over my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any other information. She fostered teen girls. That’s all I know.”

“I’m on it.” Mel leaves the office, throwing Zane a worried glance over her shoulder.

“Can I get you anything? Water? Are you hungry?” he asks, blotting at his cheek.

“Fuck you.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “You used to have a bigger vocabulary.”

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