Page 10 of Cruel Dreams

Zane

The useless schmoozing bores me, and all I can think about is how much Stella would hate this. Everyone is so fake, so in it for themselves. How much bigger their diamonds are, how much more loaded they are. Of course, Black Enterprises beats us all, but only because a lot of their money comes from black market arms deals.

It’s creeping toward nine o’clock, and my stomach growls. I wish we’d eat soon, but the party’s still going strong. No one’s rushing the time away but me. The mayor’s on his way to getting shitfaced, and he started following Clayton around like a puppy. Clayton grew annoyed with it quickly, hoisting Huxley off onto whoever happened to join their conversation. Then Clayton would find someone else to speak to, and it starts all over again. It’s rather comical.

I get my own share of people trying to kiss my ass, irritating the hell out of me, but Nat glows brighter and brighter with every woman who joins her group and every flute of champagneshe drinks. She loves this, and I truly believe without the abuse, Nathalie would have been happy to remain Ash’s employee.

Earlier, Nora Guthrie poked her head into the ballroom and Ash dumped the blonde he was parading around the room and glued himself to her side, much to the blonde’s chagrin. Nora doesn’t mind his arm tightly wrapped around her waist, not letting even an inch of space between them, and she occasionally rests her head on his shoulder. It’s interesting to see him hanging on her when it’s always been the other way around. It’s too bad he won’t be free long enough to pursue a relationship with her. I think they could have been a good match in different circumstances.

I give Nathalie the eye, and she excuses herself to use the phone. We went over this. If she said she was going to the bathroom, her new friends wouldn’t let her go alone, and she needs the privacy. We’re hoping Huxley follows her out of the ballroom, and the jackass doesn’t disappoint.

There’s a lounging area near the elevator bank at the end of the corridor, but Clayton didn’t wait to rake that PI over the coals and he never reached the couches and coffee tables.

Nat has barely enough time to perch on a sofa and kick off her heels before Huxley approaches her.

He sits beside her, his heavy frame sinking into the cushion, and I lower to my haunches near a trash can. I’m close enough to hear what they’re saying but far enough away they won’t notice me unless I sneeze.

The mayor was so keen on having Nathalie alone he never looked behind himself, never looked to see if anyone was watching him. The stupid fool.

I should be safe here, for a few minutes.

“Nathalie, honey, what are you doing?” Huxley asks, and his voice grates on my nerves. Whiny, nasally.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she says, and I can picture her lifting her chin like she does whenever I’m questioning her behavior.

“Marrying that prick,” he says.

“He’s a rich prick,” she says in return, and I know she means it.

“So what? Didn’t I give you everything you said you wanted?”

“When you call out your daughter’s name while you come?” Disdain drips from Nat’s voice.

“We all have our faults,” Huxley mutters, low, and I almost didn’t catch it. “I paid you what you’re worth and then some.”

“Money Ash claimed as his due,” Nathalie reminds him. I don’t know how much her jobs paid or how much of that she was allowed to keep. She never told me, and I never asked. I wonder how much Ash paid her to fuck me.

“I always gave you a little extra.”

“What do you want me to do, Hux?” She says her nickname for him and I blanch. Maybe she likes this creep. “Zane’s pulling me out of the business. You think I like spreading my legs for cash?”

“I thought you loved me, baby,” he whispers.

I peer around the trash receptacle. Nat chose a blue and silver floral brocade couch tucked in a corner made of floor-to-ceiling windows and they don’t see me. Huxley scoots closer, his reflection glinting in the glass. He rests his arm on the back of the cushion and brushes his fingers over her shoulder. He’s ballsy. Anyone could walk down the hallway and catch them.

“I do, but you have to understand, I gotta look out for myself. Ash don’t take kindly to women who get old, and when some fresh new thing hires on, you won’t want me either. Admit it.” An accent I never heard before filters into her speech. It tags her as growing up in one of the poor sections of King’s Crossing. I hope she’s not scared. She doesn’t have to be.

“I won’t say any such thing. Let me take care of you. I’ll set you up in a little apartment and you can have an allowance.”

“Until your wife finds out, you mean.” Nathalie pouts. She sounds sincere. They might have had this conversation before. “Besides, Ash would never let me do that. You know Zane can only marry me because he and Ash are friends.”

“Black respects me. He’ll give you to me if I ask.”

“Ha! You think pretty highly of yourself.”

“Why not? I’ve been doing what they’ve told me to for years. You think Maddox can do whatever he wants in King’s Crossing? Think again. They owe me a favor. More than one.”

“And you’re going to cash one in on me? I don’t believe that.”

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