Chapter 16

STELLA

Stella got into the elevator with him without question, which was probably a mistake, she realized, as it started going up. They stood facing each other, leaning on opposite walls. She wasn’t afraid of him,

or his security people—she just didn’t want to go back to her pack empty-handed.

“You could trust me, you know,” he said, breaking their silence first. “I don’t harbor any animosity towards Starry Sky. Not like my brother.”

“More fool you,” she muttered. Maddox might forgive her, again, because he was old and overly kind… but what about Anika and the others? There’d been a time when the Wind Racers had given as good as they’d got —she’d heard the stories. Their shared hostility went deep.

“At least let me help,” he went on. “With whatever it is I inadvertently ruined.”

She blew air through her pursed lips and rolled her eyes up. “You can’t. I mean—at this point, I might let you if you could—but it’s inside Larios’s house. And now that he’s dead, I suddenly have no reason to go in there.”

She watched his eyes narrow in thought. “So?” he said.

“So?”

He shrugged casually. “I’m the Beast, or hadn’t you heard? I go where I want.”

“There’s going to be people there.” She’d already imagined Stefan’s ex-wife and his last three girlfriends, leaning on one another in a blonde heap of women, crying.

“I should hope so,” Zach said, smiling wickedly. “Someone needs to let us in.”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened… inside a pantry of some sort. There were shelves with food on the right and an empty wine rack on the left.

“What is this nonsense?” she asked, as he got out and she followed him. The doors closed behind her, looking like just another wood-paneled wall.

“One of the escape routes out of my penthouse. The conference room below—all that glass is blast-proof and bulletproof. It’s a gilded panic room.” He held the door to the rest of the kitchen open for her and she stepped through into it, her combat boots scuffing on the gleaming tile.

He led her through a dining room with an amazing view of the city below, and through a living room with carpet plusher than any she’d ever seen before. She could feel how nice it was, even through her boots. Zach had not one but two rooms to himself, one at Damian’s and here— then she realized this wasn’t just a room, but an entire other home, scanning through the open doorways.

No one else lived here, even though there was so much space.

Wasn’t he lonely?

He went into a bedroom, and she stopped at the door, crossing her arms as he walked through to open a closet on the far side.

“Why did you bring me here?” she demanded.

“So you could change clothes.” He worked his way through hangers, pulling out a shirt of his and a skirt that was someone else’s. He tossed them on his bed. “Black’s the traditional color of mourning.”

“You don’t think I know that?” she said. “And I’m already in black,” she complained.

“But not in the kind of outfit that will get you into Larios’s house.” He moved toward her and she shrank away in the doorway, letting him pass by without touching. He walked past her without a glance back, so confident she'd do as she was told. She growled and slammed the door.

FIVE MINUTES later she came out in clothes that were too big for her. She’d taken his unbuttoned shirt and tucked the tails deeply into opposite sides, creating a cinching V over her body with all the extra fabric, like the top of a wrap dress, tucking it into the top of a skirt she was holding cinched in one hand. She found Zach in another room behind a desk, quietly typing away, completely ignoring her. She walked over to the desk, grabbed the stapler, and fixed the sides of her skirt with it, folding the extra fabric over into two deep Zs before stapling them down.

And then after that… she waited. While Zach was doing something. While Maddox was back at home, in bed, trying to breathe.

Zach printed off whatever he was working on, folded it up, and stuck it in his suit pocket. His cold green eyes finally deigned to look her up and down.

“We’ll just pretend that the combat boots are an esoteric fashion choice,” he said, cocking one brow. “And luckily all your tattoos are hidden.”

“Do I want to know why you’ve got extra women’s clothing here?” she asked, and then put a finger to her hips, pretending to think. “Oh, wait, it’s because it’s easier to sleep with them here, rather than bring them home to the real Damian’s.”

“Yes,” he said flatly, although the corners of the Beast’s eyes crinkled. “I bring all of the many women I sleep with up to my penthouse.” He stood and rounded the desk, picking up a pen and hovering it over a pad of paper. “So when we’re done, I should have one of my assistants ship your existing clothes and weapons, too.” He paused as if waiting for an address.

“If this works,” she began.

“When it works,” he cut in.

“Then we can come back here and get them,” she finished, undeterred. She pressed a portion of the gathered shirt fabric flat against her ribcage where she had an elastic holster wrapped around her torso so that he could see the outline of her gun. “And don’t make the mistake of thinking that I’m weaponless.”

His eyebrows rose. “I would never, Starry Sky,” he protested, then set the pen down and reached for his phone. “Let’s get downstairs. I’ll summon my driver.”