Page 67 of Cruel Dreams

Zarah handled Max’s death better than I thought she would. Better than I did. A sad smile. A few tears. She loved him, and she’ll miss him, like we all will.

I called Lucille and told her it was safe to come back to the city, and the woman’s stable presence in the penthouse made a world of difference. Dr. Reagan slightly adjusted Zarah’s meds, and because of that, Lucille being home, and Ingrid working with her, she floats closer to the surface every day.

On a dreary morning that feels like all the others, Mel calls and says Banks gave her permission to leave, and she stops at the penthouse to tell Zarah and me goodbye. I invite her in, and we have coffee before Douglas drives her to the airport. She returned her rental a long time ago.

She sits on the couch, but I’m too restless and pace the floor.

“What have you been doing? Everyone’s been asking about you.”

I sent Zarah into the kitchen so that Mel and I could speak privately, and I’m able to answer her honestly. “Digging through the shit Ash left behind. Nothing he and his father did was legal. Even their foundations were used to cheat people, launder money, and fund their personal agendas.”

“Can’t you do that at the Crowne? Stella needs you. She cries when she thinks no one’s around to hear her. She’s scared. I offered to bring her back to Cali—”

“No!” I shout, jerking in her direction. I lower my voice. “No.”

She sighs in frustration. “Then you need to do something. Quinn’s encouraging her to go to New York, but I can see it on her face she doesn’t want to go. Now that Richard has access to his money, he’s taking off. He wants Stella and Quinn to go with him.”

“Ihavebeen doing something,” I murmur and lean tiredly against the window that overlooks King’s Crossing.

“Then you need to let her in on your plans or she’s going to leave.”

“She’s going to leave anyway. I’m helping her do it, that’s all.”

Lifting her chin, she says, “You love each other too much. You’ll get through this. Just like you’ve gotten through everything else. You’re practically indestructible.”

I’d like to think so, but no couple is. Not even us.

“Mel.” I draw in a deep breath through my nose and slowly let it out of my mouth. “What’s the one thing in all the world Stella wants?”

“That’s easy. You.”

I shake my head. “No. Think. What do you know about her? What’s the one thing she’s grown up without?”

Understanding lights in her eyes. “Family.”

“Yes. I’ve been putting off seeing her because I’m going to lose her, Mel. I’m going to lose her because in the days I’ve been digging through Ash’s fucked up shit, I’ve found the one thing Stella will love more than me. I found her family.”

That was a couple of days ago. I asked Mel to call Stella and tell her I needed a little more time. I needed all the facts or she wouldn’t believe me. Banks helped me gather the information, and armed with a file that burns hot in my hand, I drive to the Crowne and park in the staff parking lot.

I rest my forehead against the steering wheel of the SUV and pray for strength. Every time I think I’m going to do the hardest thing of my life, Fate manages to throw me another curveball, harder, faster, than the one before. Bruised and bloody, I refuse to go down without a fight.

I have one last swing, and I’ll try to give as good as I get.

Max’s suite is empty. I should have asked Mel to box up Max’s belongings for his brother. Now that task will fall to me, but maybe that’s not so bad. His brother will hate me along with everyone else, but I’d like to express my condolences in person.

Shaking those thoughts out of my head, I find Stella in the room she and Quinn have been sharing. A suitcase lays open on the bed, and clothes are scattered everywhere. I guess when Mel told her I needed a couple more days, that’s all Stella was going to give me. My heart bangs painfully under my ribs.

Pound. Crack. Pound. Crack.

Fuck.

Stella meets my gaze, and exhaustion and despair shadow her eyes. The news destroyed me, but maybe Stella can finally find the happiness she deserves.

“Can I talk to you a minute?” I ask.

“You’re a son of a bitch,” Quinn interrupts, standing in the bathroom’s doorway holding a brush, her lips set in a thin line. “Where the fuck have you been? What the fuck has been so important that you didn’t call her yourself and explain—”

“Quinn,” Stella says sharply.

---