Page 6 of Cruel Hearts

Off.

I loved her. I would have walked through fire for her. I would have done everything for her.Anythingfor her. I would have given up my fortune. All Stella Mayfair had to do was ask. Instead, she runs off with Sergio Cardello, the Italian prince who was at my party.

I didn’t want to believe it. Call me too trusting. Call me an idiot. Call me a fucking fool for believing the lies in her blue eyes.

I wake up my computer. I can’t stop looking at them. When the first one splashed all over theTruth or Darewebsite, I thought it was a joke. The photo of Stella and Cardello walking in Venice, their fingers tangled together. She looked so happy, gazing up at him the way she used to look at me.

Then another of them on a beach somewhere, another on a yacht. Every picture the paparazzi took hardened my heart a little more. It wasn’t until the one last year I finally snapped. Thank God Ash had been with me. In fact, he was the one whoshowed it to me. He said he didn’t want me to see it at a bad time.

There’s nogoodtime to see something like that, but I knew what he meant. Even if I wanted to punch him for shoving that garbage in my face.

The photo is of Stella and Cardello. It’s another of them on a yacht, the water sparkling a brilliant azure blue. I don’t know how the photographer managed to get so close without bothering them. Stella’s glowing in the sun, lounging on the deck, her skin a deep, rich tan. Cardello’s sitting near her, his hand on her belly.

Her swollen belly.

I would have forgiven her anything—that’s how much I loved her. If she’d come crawling back on her hands and knees begging me to forgive her, I would have.

Until I saw that.

She gave that son of a bitch a baby, and I will never forgive her for giving Cardello the family that belonged to me.

I pull my wallet out of my jacket pocket. The letter came a couple of days after my party, and I didn’t understand it. Didn’t understand what Stella had written. After all this time, the ink is almost gone, the creases tearing the paper. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read it. How many times I’ve traced her handwriting over the blue stationery. Looking for a hidden meaning. Searching for a clue to tell me why she left.

There was nothing.

Zane,

Please don’t try to find me. I can’t fit into your life. I don’t know how. I’ve decided that you and I aren’t meant to be. I’m sorry for everything. I love you.

Stella

It wasn’t until I saw the pictures that I put two and two together. She found someone new and didn’t have the guts to tell me.

Carefully, I fold Stella’s letter and slide it back into my wallet. I’ve carried it for five years...I’m not about to stop now.

Hal strides into my office, Peggy protesting behind him, her pudgy fingers fluttering in agitation.

“It’s okay, Peggy,” I say just as Hal slams the door in her face.

“What can I do for you, Zane?” he asks, helping himself to my good whiskey.

He looks like James Bond, and if my ten-year-old self had caught sight of him, Hal Bernard is who I would have said I wanted to be when I grew up. Thanks to Stella, I have the ruthlessness down cold, but unfortunately, I don’t like the sight of blood, and there is definitely a lot of it in Hal’s line of work.

We met at one of Ash’s parties. Straight off, I liked him and his no-bullshit attitude. He plays a mean hand of poker and never breaks a promise. I stored his number in my phone hoping one day I might get a chance to use it. Today is that day.

“I have a job for you.”

He raises his eyebrows and sips his drink. “You remember what I do, don’t you?”

“Don’t treat me like a fool. Just do what I say.”

“All right. Take it down a notch. What’ve you got?”

I turn the monitor toward him. The picture of a pregnant Stella and her prince fills the screen. I point my finger, steady now, at her. “She’s in King’s Crossing. I want her dead.”

Hal runs a hand over his immaculate tie. “When was this photo taken?”

I scoff. “Aren’t you supposed to be a bad-ass mercenary? Picking off a pregnant woman should be a piece of cake.”

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