Chapter 43

I felt sweaty and worn out – partly from the walk and partly because I was more confused than ever.

Seeing Zane standing there didn't help.

And of course, he didn't look sweaty or worn out. No. Not him. He looked cool and determined, even as he stood, with arms crossed, facing the door to my hotel room.

Where his room was, I had no idea, but it didn't take a genius to know that it was surely located a lot higher up than mine.

In fact, come to think of it, he had a penthouse in New York. Was it right here? In this hotel?

Probably.

Well, goodie for him.

I'd just rounded the corner, and so far, he hadn't spotted me – or so I thought, until he turned his head slowly in my direction. At something in his expression, I felt myself swallow.

He looked pissed off, and not just a little.

But so what?

I was pissed off, too, and not because of anything I'd heard during my dinner with Teddy. Rather, it was the other dinner – the one I didn't get to eat – that was fueling my current hostility.

To think, I'd been taken to the top of the world, charmed for like ten whole minutes, and then dismissed like some kind of temporary seat-warmer.

In the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder how much worse I'd be feeling now – or heaven forbid, tomorrow morning – if I'd been stupid enough to succumb to Zane's shallow charms.

I almost scoffed out loud. I didn't need to wonder. If I truly wanted to know, I could ask Tiffany or a dozen other girls, including the one he'd ditched in Kalamazoo.

The jerk.

Almost before I knew it, I was marching forward even as he strode toward me, meeting me more than halfway. I stopped within slapping distance and glared up at him to ask, "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting."

"For what?"

"You," he said. "Now, tell me something."

I almost laughed out loud. Oh, there were plenty of things I could tell him. But none of them were fit for public consumption. So instead, I crossed my arms and said, "What?"

"Your job – did you quit?"

What the hell?

I practically snorted in disbelief. "So that's why you're here?" I tried for another laugh. "Well, I guess that rules out apology-number-five."

"Just answer the question."

I didn't feel like doing anything he asked. So instead, I gave him a taste of his own medicine. Lowering my voice to match his, I mimicked, "My job – am I fired?"

He looked anything but amused. "Is that a serious question?"

Was it? I honestly didn't know.

When I said nothing in response, he gave me a hard look. "And how was Teddy?"

I froze. "What?"

"Over dinner, did he give you a good earful?"

He had, in fact. But that wasn't the point. I said, "How'd you know?"

"You're in my hotel."

"So?"

"So if I'm looking for you, it's not hard to find out when you left…" His jaw clenched. "…or with whom."

In spite of everything, I just had to ask, "Did you seriously just say 'whom'?"

"I know plenty of words, and they're not all four letters."

I paused. "But wait, that is a four-letter word."

His eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"Whom," I said. "It has four letters."

"Forget the letters. Now, tell me something."

"What?"

"Do you believe everything you hear?"

Of all the questions, this was one I hadn't been anticipating. But it didn't matter. I already knew what I thought.

Sure, it would be incredibly easy to believe the worst of Zane "the Prick" Bennington. He was, after all, the most impossible person I'd ever met. But when it came to Teddy's claims, I had more than a few doubts.

I just didn't know how to explain it. After all, I didn't want to cause any more friction between the two cousins.

I was still trying to come up with a diplomatic response when Zane moved a fraction closer and said, "Or did he want something else?"

I stared up at him. "Like what?"

In a tight voice, he said, "You know what."

Oh. That. My face grew uncomfortably warm. "Even if he did, why would you care?"

Something about his look made me want to step back, or maybe step forward. Stupidly, I couldn’t decide which. He looked raw and dangerous, and maybe even on the verge of losing it.

But that wasn't going to happen. I knew this, because Zane never lost it. Over the last few months, I'd seen this dynamic firsthand.

No, I reminded myself, what he did was make other people lose it. In fact, I felt dangerously close to losing it now.

And he still hadn't answered my question. It almost made me wonder. If Teddy was interested, would Zane care? I stiffened. If so, he had no right.

Again, he moved closer. "What do you think?"

I lifted my chin. "I think you had dinner plans of your own."

"You're right. I did. And they went to shit. So, let me ask you again." Speaking more slowly and deliberately, he said, "Did he want something else?"

Yes. He did. He wanted me to spy on Zane. Oh sure, he hadn't put it quite that way, but I'd received the message loud and clear.

Still, I knew what Zane really wanted to know, and I wasn't one to play games. I said, "Well, he didn't want to sleep with me if that's what you're getting at."

Zane studied my face, as if he wasn't so sure. Finally, after a long, tense moment, he said, "Good to know."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

"Because he's not the guy for you."

Like I needed Zane to tell me that. But I was in no mood to be agreeable. "And why not?"

"Because he's a pussy."

I might've laughed if I weren't so angry. But I was angry. And on top of that, I was getting more confused with every passing minute.

Why were we discussing Teddy at all? I'd joined the guy for a slice of pizza. Big deal. In contrast, Zane had dined in luxury with someone who made me feel like chopped liver.

Stupidly, I couldn't help but wonder if she'd eaten my dinner – or whatever it was that Zane had ordered. I looked away and tried not to think about it.

Zane's voice, softer now, reclaimed my attention. "I’m not gonna fire you."

I turned to look at him. "And why not?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters," I said. "For all I know, you just want to torment me."

His eyebrows lifted. "Torment you."

"Yes. Torment me," I repeated. "Speaking of which, I've just gotta ask…" I stared straight into his eyes. "Why'd you drag me to dinner in the first place?"

He didn't look away. "Because I wanted to."

"Why? To grill me about Tiffany?"

"Fuck Tiffany."

I gave a bitter laugh. "Did you?"

His gaze darkened. "Did I what?"

Once again, heat rushed to my face. I heard myself mumble, "Fuck Tiffany."

"No."

It was my turn to study his face. Was he lying? I didn't think so, but could I really be sure? And why did it matter, anyway?

Zane said, "You're forgetting she's engaged."

I wasn't forgetting anything. From what I'd seen so far, this wasn't always a deal-breaker. I gave a loose shrug but said nothing in reply.

"And," Zane added, "she's not my type."

I wasn't sure I believed that either. As much as I hated to dwell on it, Tiffany was undeniably beautiful. Probably, she could be a model if she weren't so busy seeking a career as a trophy wife.

I wasn't sure why, but it seemed very important to know the whole story. "So, you didn't meet up at a hotel a couple months ago?"

"No." But then, he paused, as if recollecting something long-forgotten. "Wait. You mean my hotel?"

"Apparently."

"Then the answer's yes."

Shit. The answer stung, although for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. After all, I'd known this for weeks, months even. So why did it hurt, now?

Zane continued. "Yeah, I met her, but not in a room, if that's what you were told."

I tried to remember. Tiffany hadn't said it outright, but her implication had been pretty clear. I asked, "So, where did you meet?"

"In my office. With the senator."

Hearing this, I was stupidly pleased. "Really?"

Zane nodded. "And you wanna know what they wanted?"

"What?"

"Money for his campaign."

Now, I was even more curious. "Did you give it to him?"

"Hell no. The guy's an asshole."

Since Zane was an expert in that department, I didn't bother arguing. "So you declined on what? Some sort of moral grounds?"

"No. I declined, because he's a shitstorm waiting to happen. It would be a piss-poor investment, don't you think?"

I didn't know what to think. But it gave me a pretty good idea why Tiffany and the senator were here at all. Probably, he was still trolling for money.

And as far as Tiffany? Well, I knew what she was trolling for. And to my extreme annoyance, I discovered that I didn't like it.

When I said nothing in response, Zane said, "Satisfied?"

Was I? I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I felt at least a little better, but it didn't change anything. Not really.

And in truth, I couldn't help but wonder why I'd asked about Tiffany at all. After all, she wasn't the one who'd eaten my proverbial dinner.

And yet, in a crazy, twisted way, it did reinforce what I'd known all along. There were way too many women in Zane's life. If I couldn’t keep track, how on Earth could he?

I still hadn't answered his question. Was I satisfied? No. But he had answered all of my questions, and he'd been a pretty good sport about it too.

Finally, I managed to say, "I guess so."

"Good. Now it's your turn to answer."

"Answer what?"

"My question. Did you quit?"

It was a simple question. But for the life of me, I couldn’t come up with a simple answer. My own crazy mixed-up feelings aside, I had no idea how I'd get home if I decided to cut and run.

Oh sure, I could book a flight, but how much would that cost? If I were smart, I'd save my pennies, especially if I was soon to be unemployed.

When I made no response, Zane looked away and muttered, "Fucking Teddy."

"Wait, what does he have to do with this?"

Zane returned to his gaze to mine. "Lemme ask you something. Who do you think sent Maven?"

"No one."

He gave me a look. "You sure about that?"

"Well, you two obviously had dinner plans."

"Which I canceled."

"Oh sure," I said. "Last-minute."

"Wrong," he said. "Last night."

That made me pause. "What?"

"Last night," he repeated. "That's when I canceled."

"So then why'd she show up like that?"

His jaw tightened. "Guess."

I tried to put myself in Maven's shoes. Her reason for showing up was pretty obvious. Zane was rich, famous, and unbearably hot.

But I didn't say it. It was shallow and stupid, especially because Zane would surely assume that I was speaking for myself, and not Maven the Terrible.

I said, "I don't feel like guessing."

Zane looked away and was quiet for a long moment. Under his breath, he said, "Fuck."

On this, I could agree. "Yeah. No kidding."

He looked back to me and said, "You're not fired. And you can't quit. So forget it."

"Wait, why can't I quit?"

"Because I said so."

Talk about bossy. I reminded him, "I don't need your permission to quit."

"You do if you want a good reference."

My mouth fell open. "What are you saying?"

"You're smart. You'll figure it out."

"You wouldn’t seriously sabotage me?"

"Wouldn't I?"

But I knew the answer to that question. He totally would. After all, I'd seen firsthand how he dealt with people who gave him grief.

I made a scoffing sound. "And how long do you expect that to work?"

"What to work?"

"Threats."

His expression softened. "I'm not threatening you."

"Are you sure? Because it sure sounded like it."

"If I were threatening you, you'd know it. Now, tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Tomorrow. You're still gonna be here, right?"

I shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know."

"I'll take that as a yes."

Probably, I was lucky. After all, if I were going to quit, I'd be ten times smarter to do it after we returned back home. I just prayed that when that day came, I'd have a clearer idea of what was going on.

In the end, I didn't bother arguing. Instead, I looked toward the door to my hotel room. "Fine. Whatever. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got plans."

"Yeah?" He frowned. "With who?"

Myself, that's who. But employer or not, that was none of his business, so all I said was, "No one you know."

It wasn't even a lie. The way I saw it, Zane didn't know me at all. And I sure as heck didn't know him. But I did know one thing. He wasn't thrilled with my answer. It was written all over his face.

Yeah? Well, so what?

Deliberately, I stepped around him and tried not take any satisfaction from the fact that nearly a minute later, he was still standing in the same spot, watching me as I opened my hotel room door and slipped inside without so much as a wave.

When I poked my head out five minutes later, he was gone.

Good.