Page 63 of Cruel Hearts

“I’m saying all I need to say.”

“I’m sorry about the other day.”

“You mean fucking me? Could have at least paid for my time. I was nothing but your whore anyway.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.”

“I don’t know anything except I needed you, and you never came. I waited,” I say, my voice cracking, “and you never came.”

“Tell me where you were, Stella.”

“Fuck off.” I stand, and my body trembles with the effort. The fourteen solid hours of sleep weren’t enough. I need a lot more. A lifetime of unconsciousness.

My gaze is locked with Zane’s, his deep brown eyes forlorn, helplessness and hopelessness brimming in them.

I inch backward, wondering if he’ll stop me, wondering if he lets me run out the door, we’ll start playing another game of cat and mouse. I touch the doorknob, my fingers slipping against the metal. Almost. I’m almost free.

“I know you weren’t with Cardello, Stella. Tell me where you were.” I don’t say anything, and he demands, “Tell me what happened the night of my party.”

“Why? You won’t believe me. Itriedto tell you. I’m not going to keep bashing my head into a brick wall. You do what you need to do, Zane, and I’ll do what I need to do to survive.”

He holds the handkerchief to his cheek and the edge skims his lips as he speaks. “Quiet Meadows called me. I know you went to see Zarah. I saw how sweet you were with her. If you answer my questions, I’ll let you see her.”

He knows what will get me to talk, and my hand falls off the doorknob. “Where is she?”

“Upstairs.”

Relieved, I want to cry. She’s free.

“Are you hungry?”

My stomach chooses that inopportune time to rumble.

“Let me order lunch, and we’ll talk. I promise to listen.”

I shouldn’t believe him. I shouldn’t give him any more of my time. Denton and Max will worry, but I want to see Zarah, see that she’s okay. “I don’t trust you.”

“If I have her nurse text me a picture of her, will you believe she’s home?”

“Photos aren’t proof.”

“I know. I know that now. Please. Can we just...talk? I’m only asking for an hour. Less.” He sinks into the loveseat and adjusts the handkerchief against his cheek. The blood is starting to seep through, and I struggle not to feel bad I hurt him.

I do what Denton and Max would want me to do. We can’t fight against Clayton and Ash without Zane. Without his money, without his connections. If Zarah’s really home, if they can bring her back, she can tell Zane what she knows. She can tell someone what Ash was doing to her.

“Okay, but no food. I won’t be here that long.”

“Water?”

“Fine.” I don’t want to relent, but my mouth is bone dry. I thought that Mel woman worked for Ash, and I feel like I swallowed a wad of cotton.

Tossing the bloody handkerchief onto his desk, he trudges to the bar in the corner of his office. He’s tired too, but I refuse to feel sorry for him. He sets a lowball glass filled with ice and a can of the generic fizzy water I used to drink on the coffee table. I’m surprised he remembered, surprised he would drink this instead of the fancy brand he can afford, but I don’t let my face betray my feelings.

“I did everything I could to keep you with me,” he says, even though I didn’t ask for an explanation.

I sit, and my hand trembling, carefully pour the water over the ice and listen to it crackle. I gather my thoughts. We have a lot to exchange, a lot riding on this conversation.

“How do you know I wasn’t with Sergio?” I finally ask.

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