Page 119 of Cruel Hearts

I soak in the tub in the Honeymoon Suite, the warm water and the pill relaxing me. My bruises look horrible and will need weeks, if not months, to fade, but I’m alive and I have people who will help me stay that way. One of those people is Zane, even if he’s with another woman right now, probably sleeping next to her in the same bed he and I used to share.

So many things have changed.

Besides the strong, brave woman I had to turned into working for Ash, I hate every single one.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Zane

Ihate Mel’s suggestion we don’t go back to the hotel.

I hate she’s right.

I hate I should have thought of it.

I hate being away from Stella, but I’ll need to force myself to spend more time at the penthouse instead of the hotel. My main priority is keeping Stella safe, and to do that, I need to act as if nothing has changed. Sleep at the penthouse. Go to work. Socialize with Ash and his friends.

Do all the things I would have done if Stella hadn’t come back.

Silently, Nathalie walks into the guest bedroom and shuts the door. I’m glad she doesn’t try to persuade me to fuck her. It will make things easier.

I stand under a long, cool shower, brush my teeth, and scroll through social media. Pictures of Nathalie and me are everywhere. A photographer was hiding inside Luna Blanc, and there are candid shots of us eating, drinking Cristal, having fun on a double date.

There’s speculation who Nora is to Ash and if they’re a couple. A little gossip about Zarah and if she and Ash are no longer engaged. Someone working at Quiet Meadows leaked toTruth or Dareshe’s no longer a patient there. For now, no one knows where she is, the gossips guessing I’ve locked her away in the penthouse instead.

There are photos of Nathalie and me outside the building. We’re walking up the steps, and I have my arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her. We’re so natural. A blogger comments on how easy we are together. Of course we are. It’s something she and I have done a million times in the last five years we’ve been together. This is the kind of photo I do not want Stella to see.

Instead of lounging in bed willing myself to sleep, I work off my agitation in the weight room. I work out until I can barely stagger to the private lift and press the button to close the doors. I thought it would help me sleep, but all I do is count the minutes until I can go back to the Crowne and see Stella.

The night holds a lot of minutes.

The next morning, Nathalie and I go to the hotel. She doesn’t want to, saying she’d prefer to stay at the penthouse, but I question the wisdom of leaving her alone. I entice her into going by promising her time to sunbathe on the rooftop.

The idea of the glamorous rooftop pool appeases her and she loses some of her surliness.

We take a taxi, and I impatiently tap my foot as the driver weaves around thick morning traffic. Nathalie places a hand on my knee, and I blow out a breath and count to twenty. No use throwing how much I want to see Stella in her face.

As a precaution, the taxi drops us half a block away and Nathalie and I casually stroll the riverbank pretending to be tourists in love. Humidity is already thick in the morning air, and my clothes stick to my skin. Lying by the pool with Zarah and Stella sounds fun, relaxing, and much needed, but the paparazzi is determined to hunt us down and spending time outside may not be wise.

Not having the freedom to do whatever the hell I want is a new concept, but that’s what got me into this mess. Stella thinks I’m naïve and stupid, and I haven’t proven her wrong yet.

We go in through a side door, and we stand in the elevator, not touching. Nathalie doesn’t have anything to say and maybe she doesn’t care it’s been over twelve hours since we’ve seen anyone, but it’s given me anxiety. Max’s room door is propped open as usual, and the scent of pancakes and butter meets my nose. I don’t see Stella, and fear grips my heart.

“Do you want some pancakes?” Mel asks, her eyes flicking to me as we step into the room. “There’s plenty if you haven’t eaten breakfast. And coffee. Mimosas if you’re so inclined.”

All I want is to see Stella. To see for myself she’s okay. To see for myself she didn’t leave me again.

“Where’s Stella?” My question comes out as a croak.

A redhead I didn’t notice leans around Quinn and wrinkles her nose at me. Her hair is cut short, and she’s wearing glasses.

It’s Stella, but it’s not Stella.

She’s breathtaking, but in a completely different way than the blue-eyed blonde I fell so irrevocably in love with.

Silently, Nathalie sits at the table, and Max pours her a cup of coffee.

Stella swivels her chair, stands, and approaches me. The ends of her hair frame her jaw, exposing her swan-like neck. Her glasses glint in the sun shining in through the windows, and the teal sundress she’s wearing does crazy things to her eyes.

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