Page 22 of Cruel Dreams

Quinn follows her out of Max’s suite.

He isn’t interested in watching the video and asks Zarah if she wants to go upstairs. I’m sorry she saw me angry, and she quickly agrees, glancing at me and jumping off the couch she and Ingrid are sharing. Sitting on the rooftop at night has turned into one of her favorite activities. Maybe she feels freer up there.

No one knows better than me how easy it is to feel trapped.

I give Ingrid permission to go to bed, make a cup of coffee, and settle next to Mel. She goes through the video frame by frame and listens to the audio. It’s amazing how a tiny device no larger than a nickel can provide such clear picture and sound.

Recordings taken without both party’s consent are inadmissible in court as evidence and anything Huxley said would be thrown out, but we won’t need it. It’s only a means to an end.

Nathalie did a good job, and I feel terrible Huxley put his hands on her. I couldn’t stop it from happening, but she went into it knowing that. She took one for the team, and I’m grateful Mel didn’t let me rip into her.

She saves several screenshots of Huxley. “Too bad we can’t release these now.”

We were going to leak them to the gossip sites, but we decided to reveal everything at Ash’s fundraiser. I can’t wait toexpose the dirtbag in public. We’ll be doing a lot more than that, and I’m looking forward to tearing Ash and his father down then, too. My life was ruined at a party, it seems only apt that it happens to them. The Blacks’ dynasty will collapse to nothing but rubble at their feet, and I’ll drink champagne and smile.

Yesterday, on his personal social media page, Ash made the grand announcement the gala will be held next week, and everyone in King’s Crossing exploded with excitement. Who will be invited? Who won’t? Who can afford the two million dollar donation?

They’ll be paying for a lot more than a meal.

At the end of the video, Mel nods in satisfaction. She’s not worried about Nathalie’s slip, and I try not to think it was intentional. Nat has a lot riding on this, too.

Mel and Denton go to bed, but separately. Something shifted there, and they spend a lot of time together. Maybe they’re just friends and they enjoy each other’s company. I don’t know what Denton’s done since I bought him out. He might have been cut off from the world, too, and he appreciates simple conversation like Zarah and Stella. Whatever’s going on, I like it. She’s tamped down the anger he’s carried since I met him at Max’s apartment, and he’s more even-tempered and relaxed.

Out of sorts, I go up to the roof and catch Max and Zarah kissing. I don’t think she’s ready for that kind of intimacy and I open my mouth to say something, but he leans away and holding her face between his hands, rubs his nose over hers. She laughs in contentment and I decide against saying anything. Like Stella, she’s been deprived of affection for many years, and as long as Max isn’t hurting her, I need to remember that. He points to something across the city, and she rests her head on his shoulder.

I clear my throat and they both turn. Zarah smiles and motions me over, and I stand next to her near the railing. Stormclouds are drifting in, and the air is thick and full of electricity. Ash’s hotel across the Renegade is lit up, and a party is in full swing in the ballroom at the top. I pass a pleasant hour talking to Zarah and Max, but when large drops of rain begin to hit the roof, they decide to go back downstairs.

Finding shelter under the bar’s awning, I linger and watch the jagged lightning slash the sky in two.

I’m avoiding my empty room.

I know Stella didn’t choose to sleep with me tonight, and I’d rather be alone up here than in bed without her.

On the morning Max and Stella are to fly out, rain slides down the windows of the Honeymoon Suite.

I’ve already thrown up twice.

I thought I could handle this, but I can’t. I stand in the elevator, sweat dripping down my back and a panic attack clawing at my chest. I’m the last to meet everyone in the lobby.

Max is quivering with anticipation. He’s finally investigating what had drawn him to us in the first place, and he talks to Mel a mile a minute, his face animated.

Zarah looks how I feel. Uncertain. Sick to her stomach. She’s fighting back tears.

“I can’t let her do this.” The words rip out of my mouth and everyone stops what they’re doing to stare at me.

“What do you mean?” Mel demands, shoving her hands on her hips. “We need them there.”

“Max can go alone.”

Zarah whimpers.

Mel zeroes in on her. “Oh.”

Stella’s gaze meets mine, and she drags in a breath. “Zane.”

“I can’t. I just can’t.” I’m bawling like a fucking baby, and I can’t stop. I turn and round a corner, and I lean against the wall near a men’s restroom. Pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes, I hope to keep the flood in.

It doesn’t work.

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