Page 4 of Cruel Dreams

I won’t need nearly as long to dress for the party, and the rest of the day looms empty in front of me. I can’t spend all my time at the hotel, but if I’m not there, I feel skittish and uneasy. Douglas asked if I needed him tonight, but I told him he could have the evening off. We’ve all been under a lot of pressure, and he needs to relax and unwind, though he’ll probably do that at the Crowne, where I’d rather be. Thank God he forgave me for letting him think Stella was dead.

Zarah and Max continue to spend time together, and though she’s still on a lot of medication, she’s surrounded by people who care about her and she’s blossoming. Conversation. Affection. Laughter. Healthy meals and hours lying by the pool or reading in the sunroom. Dr. Reagan visited her and they talked in the lobby, the manager and Max keeping protective watch, much to the doctor’s quiet and appreciative amusement. Her progress in such a short amount of time pleased him immensely. Afterward, he took me aside and shared he was secretly investigating Quiet Meadows. He also told me something I didn’t know, but it didn’t surprise me considering all that’s already come to light. Ash handpicked the psychiatrist who treated Zarah—a psychiatrist the Board of Psychiatry has investigated. That disturbed him,and Dr. Reagan is researching the legalities of what the doctors and nurses are doing at the sanatorium.

I’m sick with shame. I let that happen. Didn’t suspect it. Didn’t see it. Didn’t stop it.

I do a little work in my office and sip on a glass of scotch to loosen up. Denton and I still haven’t spoken, but that’s not all my fault. He avoids me like I could give him the plague, even if I were standing a mile away. I’d entertained the idea of asking him to come back to Maddox Industries, but I doubt he would accept my offer.

It’s expecting a lot to ask so many people to put the past five years behind them.

The end of the day comes and goes, and the twenty-fifth floor takes on that abandoned feeling when everyone is gone. Peggy pokes her head into my office and wishes me a good night, just like she always does. She’s not put off by my surly attitude, and I appreciate it. I nod and tell her to do the same, and she scurries off, eager to begin her weekend. It’s not like watching Stella walk away, but I have more focus now.

I can’t believe I was that dumb and had sex with her without protection.

I’m not sure what I’ll do if she’s carrying my child and she chooses not to stay. I could sue her for custody and win, but what would be the point in that? She’d be a better parent than I would be. I’d have to let her go and give her everything she and the baby needed. Then I’d live my life hoping one day she’d come back. It’d be a lonely existence, but nothing different than how I lived when Ash stole her from me.

I don’t want to stay on the executive floor alone, and I go up to the penthouse.

Nathalie’s upstairs, and Adele is blaring. It strikes me that I don’t know what kind of music Stella likes or where she wouldwant to go on vacation. Or whether she wants the baby that might be growing inside her.

I need to stop fucking up. I can’t stop thinking about myself, and I’m still hurting the people I love.

Though she doesn’t need it, Nat’s primping in the bathroom. The spa did her hair, makeup, and nails, and lotion shimmers on her skin. I know the kind she’s wearing. My mother liked wearing it in the summer—she said it showed off her tan. It shows off Nathalie’s, too. For the past two weeks all she’s done is lie by the rooftop pool. Her skin is a gorgeous bronze, and every time I look at her, I can see why Clayton chose her and why she’s Vance Huxley’s favorite, but she’s fake under the beauty and charm. I hadn’t noticed because I hadn’t cared.

“You look lovely,” I say, and sincerity rings in my voice because it’s true. I wonder how much money Ash is losing now that Nat’s no longer on his payroll. More than the two million I paid him.

She meets my eyes in the mirror. “Thank you. That spa is divine.”

“I’m glad.” I turn to go, but she rests a hand on my arm. Her heels put us at eye level, and she touches her lips to mine, her tongue running over the seam of my mouth, asking me to let her in.

I place my hand on her lower back and part my lips. I let her kiss me, and a surprised moan vibrates from the back of her throat. I cup her cheek in my palm, and she leans into me and wraps her arms around my neck. I tolerate it for just a moment. I might be a despicable son of a bitch for leading her on, but I need her in the right frame of mind tonight. We can’t look like we’ve been fighting or no one will believe we’re a happy, engaged couple.

She rubs my dick hoping for what we used to have. I would always be all in, never turning down the chance to take out mymisery on her willing body, but tonight I’m soft. She doesn’t turn me on anymore, and I don’t need it. I had Stella this morning, warm and pliant in my arms. Wet and so ready to accept me. I sink into her, and I can pretend nothing’s wrong. Especially when she says she loves me.

Fantasizing about Stella in the middle of Nathalie’s kiss is even worse, and I turn my head and step back. She sighs in annoyance and disappointment. Adele wails along, accentuating the mood.

“I’m sorry. I’m a bit on edge,” I lie.

“It’s fine.” She focuses on her reflection in the mirror and adds another layer of lip gloss to her already glistening mouth.

“I’ll go dress.”

“Yeah.”

I made her mad after all.

In pure Ash fashion, this is a black-tie party held at one of the hotels he owns along the river. It’s not far from the Crowne, actually, but on the opposite bank. His hotel doesn’t have a rooftop pool, rather a glassed-in ballroom, and that’s where the party is being held tonight.

I drive, and Nathalie molds into the leather seat of the Aston Martin. The car hums along the road, the tires gripping the pavement, and it’s a shame to waste such power on clogged city streets. The girl was made for wide open spaces, much like Stella is.

If I asked if she would rather live somewhere other than King’s Crossing, I wonder if she would say yes. I can picture her frolicking on an ocean beach, the water lapping at her feet. I can hear our children laughing, running after the seagulls, carrying pails and shovels.

My sweet dream fades and the thrum of my blood rushes in my ears. I can’t see anything now but an empty penthouse andhear the echoes of Stella’s voice telling me I hurt her too badly for us to have a relationship.

“It’s green,” Nathalie says, irritated, poking her sharp fingernail painfully into my leg. Clearing my throat, I punch the gas. I have to stop thinking about Stella tonight. I don’t need the distraction.

The valet parks the car, and offering my arm, I escort Nathalie through the elegant black and silver lobby to the elevator.

We chat with another couple in the lift, and the woman studies Nat, her eyes full of jealousy. Nathalie looks expensive, and she’s engaged to a man who can keep her that way.

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