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“I’ll probably look over a few things Pop and I are working on. I need to get an early start tomorrow and I’ll wake you up about seven to get you home. I hope that’s not too early.”
“No, it’s fine. Thank you.”
I kiss her forehead. “Goodnight, Zarah.”
“Night.”
I leave her standing uncertainly in the middle of my room and hunt down that spare toothbrush in the medicine cabinet and ruffle through the linen closet for a washcloth that doesn’t look worn out. Trying not to like the look of them on my vanity too much, I go upstairs to the loft I turned into my makeshift office. I put together a desk I bought at IKEA, and a couple of filing cabinets store information about old cases. My laptop’s on the desk charging, and Max’s lockbox sits near it.
Zarah putters around downstairs, Baby’s claws clacking behind her as she moves from the bedroom to the bathroom and then back again.
I could tell her goodnight one more time, but I don’t want to agitate her, especially if she thinks she won’t see me now until morning. When I don’t hear Baby’s claws anymore, I picture her in my bed, nuzzling Zarah’s cheek.
I won’t be jealous of my dog.
Instead of working on a case, I wake up my laptop and search a video sharing site for the videos Zarah referred to at dinner. They’re easy to find even though the gala happened six years ago, and I choose a clip that has over ten million views. Wigglingearbuds into my ears to keep the sound from disturbing her, I click Play.
I drink in the crowd as murmuring fills my ears. I’ve never been to something like that, though I’ve had opportunities whenever Mom would invite me out. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had attended the dinner that evening. As Rourke’s wife, she’s an important figure in King’s Crossing, but I don’t see her.
The person who filmed the video is near the front of the room, and I get good look at the fancy salad the guests are eating. Zarah’s dressed in red, her hair so long I bet it reached her ass when she stood. Stella’s there, young and awestruck. It’s a lot to get used to—all that money.
Zane looks like a man in love, if not a little green around the gills and sad, the loss of his parents stamped all over his face. The only time it goes away is when he’s near Stella. I don’t think they’d been together long, but I can see he was already a goner. No wonder her alleged betrayal hurt him so much. He was right. He fell hard.
I’m falling for Zarah, but right now at this moment, if she were to tell me that we weren’t going to work out, it wouldn’t be the end of my world. I would think back to her with fond memories and wonder if she was doing well. All right, so I would miss her. I guess there’s no right or wrong way to fall in love. It happens, and you hope for the best.
Clayton is an elegant speaker, and it’s intriguing, watching him talk about how close he and Kagan Maddox were after knowing he caused his and Lark’s deaths. He’s a striking figure, like Zarah said. He controls the room and people eat out of his hand.
Ashton Black steps up to the podium next, striking in his own right, not as tall as his father, not as filled out, but all the power is there in his eyes. The entitlement. He tells a story of holding Zarah as an infant, and he asks her to join him on the dais. Shedoes, slowly. She pretends she’s trying not to trip over her dress, but I can see it when I zoom in on only her. She was sore and had trouble walking. How many times had Black sold her by then?
He tells her how happy he is she accepted his proposal, and they kiss. He could win an Oscar for the way he looks at her, for the way he sweeps her off her feet and carries her back to their table after his announcement.
Max hypothesized Ash loved and hated her at the same time. It’s possible he loved her, but he loved the power and money more. I believe Zarah now. Who would have listened to her, to Stella, if they had told anyone what Ash was doing? What would they have said? They would have said Zarah and Stella were liars, trying to hurt the powerful Black family. Zarah played her part, pretending to love the bastard. Zane smiles, believing all the lies. The more I learn, the more I realize Ash had Zarah backed into a corner and the only person who could have set her free was Stella.
There are other videos of that night, several of Zarah’s breakdown after Ash kidnapped Stella. Fortunate for Ash. There was no way he could’ve planned that. Conveniently, he could lock her up and not look back.
I replay the first clip, looking for anything that would give away Clayton or Ash, but there’s nothing.
Stella’s hate for the two men is clear on her face, and it makes Zane very uncomfortable. He leans toward her, then away. Toward her, then away. He wants to be near her, but his loyalty to Clayton and Ash stops him. It’s interesting to watch.
The others at the table don’t seem to think anything is wrong. A handsome couple sits next to Stella, dripping jewels, social status, and money.
Only one woman acts like she’d rather be anywhere else, and that’s Willow Black. She doesn’t look at her son and husband when they speak. Her eyes are glued to her plate. She hangs onto Zarah when Ash calls her up to the dais, and Zarah squeezes her hand. Willow knew something was going on. I open another tab and type in “Willow Black.”
There hasn’t been much in the news about her. Gossip sites online spread rumors she’s out of the country hiding, or that she committed suicide. Some even speculate a wealthy lover rescued her and they’ve been living on his vast European estate. Ironically,Truth or Dareprinted what really happened to her. While the Feds dig through her husband’s and son’s bullshit, she’s been on house arrest, security guarding her building. She’s able to have visitors, but she’s not allowed to leave. No one knows if she’s happy with the arrangement or not. I don’t know how many people care.
To torture myself, I watch Ash and Zarah again, and he blows even me away. She looks so young. Twenty years old, an orphan, her brother so wrapped up in his own nightmare she must have felt very alone.
I close my laptop. Ash and Clayton are behind bars until their trial, and they stand no chance of parole. Zarah should be free of them, but something in Ash’s eyes belies that thought.
What had Max known that I don’t?
I want to go downstairs, crawl into bed, and hold her close. That she’d freak out if I did is a given, so I don’t. Well, I do go downstairs, but I toss a pillow and blanket on the couch and lie down in my t-shirt and boxers. Baby doesn’t come out of the bedroom to lay with me, and I don’t blame her none.
The apartment’s quiet.
I like knowing Zarah’s under my roof.
What I don’t like knowing is there’s something out there lurking in the shadows.