Page 8 of Cruel Dreams

Clayton’s stomping around the ballroom, pulling at his collar, and our guests give him a wide berth. Ash took my advice, and a tipsy blonde I’ve never met hangs on his arm, his hand molded to her tight ass.

Vance Huxley’s standing in the center of Nathalie’s group, and holding a fresh drink, I join them.

“Mayor Huxley,” I say, holding out my hand. “A pleasure to see you outside City Hall.”

There’s no love lost between Maddox Industries and Mayor Huxley, and now I know why. Every time I wanted zoning approval to build, modify, or renovate, City Hall blocked my requests or made my attorneys jump through more flaming hoops than a tiger in a circus to get what I wanted. I thought it was just the King’s Crossing’s beautification committee trying to keep the city in the 1800s, but now I understand it was Clayton holding me back.

“Maddox,” Huxley says, dislike dripping from his greeting. I always thought him a self-important, disgusting asshole, and that was before I knew what he was doing to Nathalie. If what she says is true, he could be looking at child molestation charges on top of prostitution. There’s no way he’s kept his hands off his daughter if he has to bang Nathalie to satisfy his desire. The sick fuck. I bet his wife or one of his housekeeping staff caught him, and he had to stop visiting his daughter in the middle of the night.

“Congratulations on your engagement,” he says, but he couldn’t sound any less sincere.

“Thank you.” I raise an eyebrow. “Nathalie’s a very special woman.”

“Indeed.”

It turns my stomach there were times I called Nathalie and she might have been in the middle of fucking this greasy prick. How many times have I been sloppy seconds to this guy? Or to other men? I’m hardly one to judge, but Jesus Christ, my skin’s crawling, and I shudder.

Huxley licks his lips and sips his whiskey or scotch, or whatever it is he’s been liberally drinking from the free bar as he eyes Nathalie’s cleavage.

She and I discussed what I needed her to do with him tonight. She knows what the plan is, but now that Huxley’s behaving himself, there’s no hurry to carry it out. Appetizers still haven’t been served—the open bar and gossip are keeping everyone happy.

In an out-of-the-way corner, I stand in the shadows and check my phone. No one at the Crowne has messaged me, but people here at the party are taking pictures and they’re starting to pop up on social media. There’s one of me and Nat someone posted just a few seconds ago. I have my arm around her and I’m whispering into her ear. I’m telling her to slow her drinking down, not that it matters.

My heart aches for Stella and what she’s having to deal with while we carry out our plans.

I order a new drink, paste a smile on my face, and rejoin Nathalie’s fan club. The mundane conversation floats around me, and I wonder what Stella’s doing.

I’m always wondering what Stella’s doing when I’m not with her. Always wondering if, when I get back, she won’t be there.

CHAPTER THREE

Stella

“Your identification came,” Mel says, ripping into an envelope.

Everyone’s been great trying to keep my attention off social media and the photos of Zane and Nathalie at the party. I try not to let it get to me, but there’s a picture of him nuzzling her ear and he has his arm around her waist. They’re holding drinks in expensive crystal glasses, and it sparks a jealousy in me I can’t tamp down. She’s his height, slim, wearing an expensive cocktail dress, her makeup perfectly in place. I will never, ever, look like that, and the second I saw it, tears and humiliation burned my throat.

Tonight, I’ve been focusing on Zarah. She shouldn’t be watching so much TV, and Max, Ingrid, and I played several games of Scrabble and Clue with her, encouraging her to think, trying to get her to engage her problem-solving processes. One thing we both have in common since Ash locked us up is that neither of us were able to further our education. She’s been hidden from the world without books, without meaningfulconversation. Max started reading to her at night, and charging Zane’s credit card, I ordered her a stack of the number one bestsellers in every genre. I know there’s no substitute for living, and after all this is over, I hope Zarah uses every opportunity she has at her disposal to see the world. But for now, she gobbles up the games, the books, the magazines. She lovesVoguebest. I guess that shouldn’t be a surprise.

“What?” I ask, looking up from a copy of the magazine.

“Your IDs,” Quinn repeats.

She’s getting better, too, and against her doctor’s recommendation, she took her sling off. The doctor prescribed physical therapy, and a therapist comes to the hotel once a day to help Quinn keep the mobility in her arm. I’m thankful she wasn’t wounded permanently.

“You and Max need to get going to DC,” Mel says.

Mel decided it would be best if Max and I flew to DC and talked to someone at the NTSB in person. The FBI took possession of the black box and the recording, but we want to see for ourselves if they secretly kept any copies. That’s information they would never share over the phone, especially with strangers.

Max volunteered to go alone, but Mel thinks I should go, too.

Zane wasnothappy, insisting Denton go instead, but Mel said she had other plans for him. Trust me, I don’t want to go either, but I can’t sit and babysit Zane because I’m scared he’s going to choose Nathalie over me. If you want to split hairs, he already did. Fighting against it is stupid.

Mel finishes opening the manila envelope, and I get up and stand next to the table.

Quinn’s guy did a good job using the picture Mel emailed him. I’m wearing my glasses, and the colored contacts Mel ordered came in, too. My eyes glitter green behind the lenses, and my coppery hair looks good against my complexion.

My new name is Kendra Lovelace. Mel got a kick out of that considering one of the biggest things we’ll be doing is shutting down Ash’s prostitution and escort business.

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