Page 35 of Cruel Dreams

Stella told me part of the story already, but I still close my eyes, picturing her looking down the headlights of a car, the engine gunning, and she’s just standing there, waiting to end it all. She never thought about herself. Not once through it all did she ever think about protecting herself.

Smoothing the transcript paper under my hand, I say, “I appreciate what you did for Zarah.”

Denton sighs. “I should have tried something a lot sooner. I was still at the party when she fell apart, and I watched the ambulance take her away. She didn’t belong there, but Ash locked her down. He hid two women in plain sight for five years and no one did anything about it.”

“Stella’s not the only one who feels responsible for what’s been going on. I gave Ash control of Zarah’s medical care because I thought he loved her. A lot of people have lost parts of their lives because of me.”

He clears his throat. “You lost time, too, with Stella. I saw how you were together...before. In the office, at your party. You were really in love with her. I don’t know where you two would be right now if it weren’t for Ash and his father. Married. A couple of kids, maybe. You’re so much like Kagan, Zane. You and Zarah made him so proud. Your faith and trust in Ash were misplaced, but it’s not the reason any of this happened. You’re a victim like we all are. Ash stole five precious years of your time with Stella. Fight for them back.”

“Stella’s head and heart aren’t in a good place right now for me to do that.”

“Then you need to wait for her, the way she waited for you.”

I’m thankful Denton’s giving me permission to feel just as cheated as he, Zarah, and Stella are, but I can’t think of where Stella and I would be now without the Blacks.

Married, for sure.

Maybe children, maybe not. After the crash, it had been all I could do to crawl out of bed. Stella helped—she woke me up. Maybe I would have wanted to keep her to myself for a bit.

I don’t know where I’d be if my parents were still alive. Maybe I never would have met Stella. Or I would have bumped into her in the lobby of the building and I would have lost my heart just as easily as I had in my kitchen.

My mom and dad would have loved her, too.

“Do you want to come back to the office?” I ask. It’s too little too late, and his hard stare tells me I’m right. We may have cleared the air, but things will never be the same between us.

“No. I don’t know what I’ll want after this is done. If my accounts can be unfrozen, if I can have access to my money again, I don’t have to work anymore. Maddox Industries is a pleasant memory. Kagan was a good friend and I want nothing but the best for you and your sister, but things can’t be undone. You may decide to sell it or hire Wagner to run it and hand it off to Zarah one day. Time’s running out. If Stella stands by you, think about retiring. Share your life with her. Start living.”

I nod. “Clayton doesn’t have everyone on his payroll. I’ll see what I can do about your accounts. Give Mel a list of your banks and account numbers.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it. Should have asked sooner, but a man can learn pretty quickly there’s more to life than money.”

I smile. “We’ll teach Clayton and Ash that, too.”

“Looking forward to it.” Denton glances across the roof at the angel floating to us. “There she is.”

Stella approaches, her red hair sparkling. She looks beautiful, but I miss her long, blonde hair.

“I’ll let you two talk.” Denton pats Stella on her shoulder as he walks away.

She crawls into my lap and tucks her head under my chin. I wrap my arms around her, and we enjoy the simplicity of being together.

We meet for dinner that evening, and it’s one of the few times since this has started we’ve all been in the same room. I gave Ingrid the night off and invited Douglas to Max’s suite.

Ash’s fundraising gala is less than a week away. Under extreme secrecy only a dinner at the White House would require, the Blacks sent out the invitations, and there’s nothing on King’s Crossing’s social media except speculation about who Ash invited and who’s lucky enough to be a plus one.

My invitation arrived at the penthouse, expensive cream stock paper, the text written in elegant black script. It looked like a wedding invitation.

Nathalie sent back the RSVP.

Ash hasn’t been in touch since the party he and Clayton threw for Nat and me. Clayton may still be scrambling to figure out who at the NTSB told me they found the black box.

I called the FBI, and the special agent who’s been in charge of my parents’ case is flying to King’s Crossing in the morning to meet with me. I didn’t bother asking Homeland Security or the Coast Guard to join us. They weren’t involved and never have been.

Mel called an Italian restaurant a few blocks away and ordered huge platters of pasta. Garlic and oregano permeate the air, and for once, I’m hungry. Stella sits next to me and rests her hand on my thigh under the table. I curl my fingers around hers and squeeze.

Nathalie narrows her eyes at me. She misses nothing.

There’s no word from, or about, Vance Huxley, but I didn’t think there would be. He wouldn’t want it to get out he frequents with prostitutes—high-class or otherwise—and he’s been keeping his nose clean and staying close to City Hall. As the social elite show off their precious invitations,Truth or Dareprints the names of who will attend Ash’s fundraiser, and he’s been mentioned.

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