Page 12 of Cruel Dreams

Nathalie giggles.

They fall quiet, and I inch down the hallway. She did a great job, and I owe her for letting that creep grope her. I want her free of that lifestyle. I only hope she has the smarts to take what I offer.

Clayton avoids me for the rest of the night. I don’t mind, and I don’t seek him out, either.

Nora and Ash cling to each other in a way I find irritating and puzzling. I guess even a powerful woman like Nora can fall prey to a handsome, rich man in a tux.

During dinner, Nathalie sits so close to me our arms brush, but the only clue she’s nervous is her hand trembling whenever she lifts her glass of wine to her lips. The way Huxley slobbered all over her was disgusting, and I drink copious amounts of the merlot to keep the visual from twisting my stomach.

Maybe what Nathalie said is true. Maybe I’m her only job who treated her with any amount of kindness and respect. Maybe I’m her only job who didn’t hit her, but it doesn’t excuse me for using her in the first place and I’m ashamed I didn’t care enough to ask what she did or where she went when we weren’t together.

I let my parents’ deaths destroy me, Stella’s alleged betrayal ravage me, and Zarah’s mental break shred me, and I turned into a man I can’t look at in the mirror. How am I supposed to believe that when Stella looks at me, she sees a man she can admire, sees a man she wants to build a future with? Using Nathalie, unfortunately, is the lesser of my crimes.

Between the main course and dessert, I stand and clink a butter knife against my water glass, and the guests quiet their conversations to a low murmur. No one has stood up to sayanything, but I didn’t expect Ash or Clayton to like they did at the Lyndhurst. They don’t support me...they don’t want anything to do with me. They’d just as soon kill me as stand here and congratulate me for being engaged to a whore Ash can no longer use to pad his bank account.

I slip my hand into my pocket and palm the small ring box there. I won’t feel guilty doing this. I won’t let myself. This kind of proposal isn’t what Stella would want anyway. She’d want quiet promises in the dark, under the stars. The wind blowing over an open prairie mingling with our whispers, soft grass under our feet. She’d want the scent of wildflowers tickling our noses, and nothing between us but our love for each other. I’m going to have to think long and hard about what I want to do with Maddox Industries. Stella has little patience for this kind of life, and as I get to know her all over again, the clearer and clearer it becomes that I can’t have both.

I turn and address the people sitting at the tables behind me.“Thank you for coming tonight to celebrate the happiness Nathalie and I have found. I’m not stupid. I know you’ve followed what’s happened to me in the past five and a half years. My parents’ deaths. My girlfriend and executive assistant, Stella Mayfair, running off with Sergio Cardello. My sister’s breakdown. I was met with blow after blow until I felt I was barely alive, and do you know who saved me? My best friend, Ash. He knew what I needed, and he gave it to me, introducing me to Nat. She was there during the most horrendous days of my life. I took my anger and fear out on her, but through my emotional storms, she stood by me and gave me something to live for. So, of course, I knew I needed to make her a permanent part of my life. Nathalie, will you stand up, sweetheart?”

She places her napkin on the table, stands, and rests her head against my shoulder. We’re the perfect couple. Happy. Forever.

“In all the craziness, I never asked Nathalie to officially be my wife.”

I drop down to one knee.

Nat plays her part well. She holds her hands to her cheeks and starts to cry.

“Nathalie Barton, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” I open the box and a three carat diamond set on a platinum band twinkles against the midnight blue velvet. It’s not as large as the one Ash gave my sister, but our engagement is a farce and I’m not giving Nat a diamond the size of a golf ball. It holds no sentimental value, and all she’s going to do is pawn it.

“Yes,” she cries, and she sinks to her knees and kisses me. I twist my fingers in her hair and hug her, pretending there is nowhere else on this earth I’d rather be than here in this moment. I slide the ring onto her finger, swallowing a ball of fire. Wrong woman. Wrong time. Wrong place. Wrong life.

Amidst polite, subdued applause—and not surprisingly, several glares from Huxley and a few others who were probably also Nat’s clients—I help her stand and grin, hoping she left a smear lipstick behind. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I say, “You know that I met Nathalie through Ash. The gossip rags claim she held a position at Ladies and Gentlemen, and that’s true. I’ve been told that I can do better.” Nathalie stiffens and I kiss her cheek. “I’ve been told not to marry down, but how can I think in those terms when I know she rescued me? How can I put a label on our relationship when what we have is so much more than what she used to do to earn a living? We are not the sum of our parts—what we are is limitless. Thank you for coming tonight, and a sincere and heartfelt thanks to Ash and Clayton Black for hosting this wonderful evening.”

Clayton and Ash stand and slap me on the back, shaking my hand, and Willow, Clayton’s wife, smiles. She tilts her head, assessing me, and a shiver runs down my spine. Willow letStella escape. I wonder what Willow knows or if she believes everything reported in the news. By the shrewd look on her face, I’m willing to bet not. I hope she can see what’s coming, because I can’t warn her. I don’t know how loyal she is to her husband and son, and I won’t risk anyone on our team, or our mission, to find out.

The waitstaff serves dessert, and I step onto the balcony needing space and a moment to myself. The sultry air is just as oppressive as the air indoors, and leaning against the balustrade, I rub my face.

The Crowne is dark, as it should be. The first time I saw how empty it looked after Mel and the others moved in, I almost had a heart attack. I thought everyone left me, decided what we were doing wasn’t worth it. Then I forced myself to breathe and calm down. We don’t want the light to attract attention, and we keep the blackout curtains closed at night. The only lights I can see are the lights shimmering in the swimming pool.

What’s Stella doing now? Is she playing cards with Mel and Denton, or meandering the hallways with Zarah, or are she and Max planning their trip? I can’t let jealousy get the better of me, but I hate the thought of her traveling, having experiences and adventures with another man.

“You miss her, don’t you?” Nat asks, coming up and standing beside me. She lays her forearms on the concrete railing that keeps us from plunging to our deaths. The wind teases her hair and tugs at the skirt of her dress.

“Yeah. Thank you for what you let Huxley do to you. I know letting him put his hands on you wasn’t pleasant.”

“It wasn’t anything he hasn’t done before. He’s a creep and a slimeball, but he doesn’t lie. He did pay me well—it’s not his fault Ash keeps most of it to force us to work and to squish us under his heel. I know some of the women on Fischer Boulevard. They’d trade the street any day to have what Ash gives his girls.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t do more before now.”

She sighs. “I want to hate you for that. I want to hate Ash. I’m scared of what we’re going to do to him and Clayton. When my friend introduced me to him, it sounded like a good way to help my mom. He gave me what I needed, and her last months were comfortable and she passed away in peace. That was important to me. I had no one else.”

“He should have let you go when you wanted out.”

“That’s not the way it works.”

I rest my hand on the nape of her neck and her skin is warm and soft under my palm. “Maybe, but you shouldn’t have needed to do it at all.”

She knocks my hand off her and steps to the side. “You never cared, Zane. You didn’t ask about my family, or where I worked, if I enjoyed any hobbies. We never left King’s Crossing, and you didn’t ask if I wanted to, either. You didn’t ask why I was always available when you needed a pity fuck. I was nothing but a hole, someplace you could shove your dick. You could have gotten me out of this a long time ago.”

---