Page 67 of Cruel Hearts

“I’ll ask Peggy to show you my old office. It will have everything you need. Eventually, we’ll need to meet up with my father’s former business partner, Richard Denton, the man who was in the car with Stella.” Mel nods, and I continue, “They’ve been working together. When it comes to the Blacks, the more resources we have, the better.”

“How big is this going to get?” Mel asks. “This isn’t a small-time prostitution ring.”

I want it to be. For as much as Ash has done to me, I don’t want him to be any worse than he is, but I’m going to have to let that go. Ash isn’t my friend.

I pause. “I don’t know.”

This may only scratch the surface of what he’s done, and what he and his father are capable of doing.

Mel walks out of my office, talking on her cell phone, and approaches Peggy. I trust her to be discreet. I already tipped Ash off pulling Zarah out of Quiet Meadows without his approval, and he and I haven’t spoken since I contested his power of attorney and won. It would be in my best interest to pretend all is well between us or he’ll close ranks and we’ll lose any leeway we have.

“Ready?” I ask Stella.

She won’t trust me until Mel clears me, and maybe not even then, but I’m counting on her love for Zarah to fill in until she knows my only crime is stupidity.

When Stella first showed up in King’s Crossing, rage overtook my common sense, but I’ll always love the woman standing in front of me, quaking from fear and exhaustion. Despite the shadows under her eyes and the tension that pulls around her mouth, she’s still beautiful.

She nods.

We go up in the private elevator. Too many memories. They’re years old, but they feel like yesterday, like I could reach out and touch them, if I could only wish hard enough. She stands as far away from me as she can, pressing against the opposite wall.

I pretend I don’t notice. I’m going to have to do a lot of pretending so she doesn’t know how much she hurts me. I don’t have the right to hurt.

The doors open, and I step out of the lift. Stella hesitates, but voices carry to us. Nathalie’s. Lucille’s. Ingrid’s.

Zarah’s.

She woke up from her nap and they’re in the living room, chatting.

Nathalie’s voice is thin and wispy. Full of fear like Stella’s. She’s risking her life on the belief I’ll keep her safe. I hope Stella can see we need her and doesn’t try to chase her off. Not out of jealousy. I’m stupid but not delusional. By telling her she can’t trust me. If Nathalie disappears, she’ll take all of the inside information she has with her. I should have warned Stella, but it’s too late now.

I wait for Stella to follow me, and it’s only a second after she clears the foyer that she’s running across the living room and into Zarah’s arms.

My sister’s standing by the window looking over the city, but the minute she’s holding Stella, she tugs Stella to the floor and buries her face in her hair. Zarah’s shoulders shake, but I can’t hear her sobs.

Uncertain, Ingrid sit on the couch, watching, and Lucille twists her fingers in anticipation. She missed Stella too, and wants to touch her, hug her, pull her close, just as badly as I do.

Stella and Zarah’s reunion breaks my heart. Zarah leans away and rests her hands on Stella’s cheeks, searching her face like she can’t believe she’s real. Stella embraces her again, and this time my sister’s laugh floats across the living room.

Leaning against the wall, I shove my hands into my pockets, feeling useless and out of place. I’m on the outside of my own family looking in. It’s stupid. Zarah loves me, but as we wean her off the drugs, she might hate me, too. The way Stella does.

Because I chose Ash.

Nathalie drifts away from the little group and lightly walks over to me. She’s wearing a...I think Zarah would call it a romper. The top and the bottom are connected into one piece. The top is strapless, and her hair brushes over her slim shoulders.

She sees me appraising her, and she smiles coyly until she catches the scratches on my cheek and her expression fills withfake concern. She’s not real like Stella, but she’s never been given the chance to be. Her survival depends on men wanting her. She thinks her safety depends on me wanting her, too.

“What happened to you?” she asks, reaching out to touch my face.

I tilt my head away. “Nothing I didn’t deserve. Don’t worry about it.”

Nathalie opens her mouth to argue but thinks better of it. “That’s Stella Mayfair,” she says, shifting her attention to the small group behind us.

Impatiently, Lucille kneels on the floor, enveloping both women in a tight hug. She’s always admired Stella. It doesn’t matter why Stella left—Lucille only cares she’s back. She trusts Stella’s explanation before she even hears it.

That’s faith.

That’s love.

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