Page 48 of Cruel Hearts

“Runs her own security firm in LA. You might need to wait a day for her to fly in.”

I don’t like the sound of that, but better to wait a day than waste a week like I did trusting the asshole on Clayton’s payroll. “Yeah.”

“Got something to write with?”

I pat my pocket like I expect to have a pen and notebook in there. Stupid.

“Hold on.”

“You got two minutes.”

“One,” Helena says in the background.

Nigel laughs.

Sitting behind Ash’s desk, I pull a drawer open. Stapler, paperclips. Not a piece of scratch paper in sight.

I slide another one open and reveal hanging folders. In another, I find a stack of index cards. One of those will work. Someone needs to tell Ash a little clutter never hurt anybody, and a stack of scratch paper might help a person out.

Grabbing a Mont Blanc, I jot down the number Nigel rattles off.

I think it’s time to hire my own security. Borrowing people is starting to be a real pain in the ass, though funnily enough, I never needed a private investigator until I met Stella.

Helena calls, “Get the fuck over here,” and Nigel disconnects without saying goodbye.

I’m about to close the desk drawer when something gold catches the light shining in through the window. I pull the drawer out farther, and my stomach drops and does such a sick roll I might throw up all over Ash’s immaculate desk.

Tucked into the back of a drawer I’m almost a hundred percent certain Ash doesn’t use, is the ring I slipped onto Stella’s finger the night I promised her that when we were both ready, I’d ask her to marry me.

My hand is shaking so badly I can barely pick it up. The tiny diamond is nestled in a setting of buttery gold, and it looked perfect on her delicate hand. I was so proud she agreed to wear it, so proud to show her off at the party.

The diamond catches the light and shoots rainbows all over the room.

My heart cracks.

How did Ash get a hold of it? Has he seen Stella since she ran off with Cardello? Had he gone to Italy to plead my case? If he did, he never said one thing about it.

I think of yesterday in Stella’s apartment when I fucked her. I asked her where she’d been, and Ash’s name had been fast on her lips.

I kick the drawer shut, and five seconds later I’m surveying the city, Stella’s ring in my pocket and Mel’s number in my wallet.

“Ready to head out?” Ash asks, poking his head into his office.

I breathe through my nose and try to get a grip on my thoughts and emotions. Going ballistic now won’t help. Losing my temper like Ash loves to do won’t help. What will help is thinking for myself. I’ve been treating Ash like my best friend.

Listening to his advice.

Trusting him.

Believing him.

Having faith he loves my sister as much as he says he does.

Agreeing with the nasty things he says about Stella—she’s a whore, she’s greedy, selfish, only in it for herself.

But she gave herself to me at her apartment when she knew it would hurt her. She risked getting caught to see Zarah.

I’ve been treating Ash like my best friend.

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