Page 81 of Heart Thief

Ryker approaches when he sees me. He hugs me tightly. “Thank you for coming, Mila. Come sit with me.”

I hug him only because of the circumstances. After the funeral, the truce is over.

There are six chairs in the front row, designated for family. I agree only because I’d like to sit with Zane.

Debra is already seated. She’s wearing a sequined black number with thigh-high slits up the sides. The only thing that makes it appropriate for her husband’s funeral is the color. In every other way it’s entirely inappropriate for her age and the occasion.

She looks me up and down. “Too bad about your hand, Mila. But there are so many other things you can do with your life. Things that really matter.”

I lean down to her level. Which is low, very low. “Or I could marry a well-to-do man and live off of him.”

A Kleenex is tightly gripped in her fist. She wipes at her eyes, even though there are no visible tears to mop up. Her mascara is perfect with not a smudge.

“Aren’t you clever?”

“I’m learning,” I tell her, and take my seat.

Ryker turns toward me, casually placing his arm around the back of my chair. He quietly whispers in my ear, “Did you hear from Zane?”

“No, I didn’t. I hope he makes it in time. Did you hear from him?”

“No, nothing.”

And yet, he went ahead with the funeral service. As though it didn’t really matter if Zane was here or not. The thought makes my blood boil. At least he put forth effort to notify him. But he should’ve waited until he knew Zane could be here for sure.

As we begin the opening hymn, a Jeep screeches to a halt on the street.

And there he is.

My stomach flutters at the sight of him. I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart.

Zane exits the car wearing sunglasses, black suit pants, and a white dress shirt. He walks around to the passenger side of his jeep and grabs his suit coat. He puts it on as he walks toward the service. He pulls a black tie out of his pocket and wraps it around his neck, tying it as he approaches.

That’s Zane for you.

He straightens his tie and buttons his suit coat as he arrives under the canopy where everyone is seated, looking refined and polished, and like he didn’t just finish getting dressed as he approached. The man can wear a suit, the suit doesn’t wear him. Despite the somber occasion, he looks amazing. A little thinner, his skin more bronzed, but amazing all the same.

Due to his sunglasses, I can’t see his eyes. The firm set of his lips and the knit of his eyebrows expresses his mood, though. He’s upset, naturally. I know his grief runs deep, much more so than he’s letting on.

When he looks in my direction, he does a double-take and goes completely still. Promptly, he turns away. He doesn’t approach or take a seat. He remains standing.

It’s then I realize how it must look to him. I’m sitting with Ryker in the family section. And he has his arm around my chair, not around me, just around my chair.

From Zane’s point of view, it’s a minor technicality.

Ryker did this on purpose. I know he did. He’s still in the game. And I fell right into the trap.

When I stand, Zane looks my way. I motion with my good hand toward my chair, inviting him to sit.

He shakes his head in the negative ever so slightly, his jaw joint flexing like he’s gritting his teeth. It’s a response I’ve only seen twice. Now, and that horrible moment in Ryker’s penthouse. It’s so unlike the Zane I know.

I stand for a few more minutes, unsure what to do. I want to go stand by Zane, but I’m not certain he’d welcome my presence. He looks unapproachable, his expression hard. I’m not going to make a scene at his father’s funeral.

There’s nothing left to do but sit back down.

This isn’t how I saw this going. I wanted to be here for Zane, but I’m completely thrown by his demeanor. I knew he’d be grief-stricken, but I didn’t know he’d be standoffish.

The funeral is a blur. I hear nothing as I sit there with my heart in my throat. All of my doubts have been confirmed.

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