Chapter 2 2

The taxi screeched to a halt under the awning of the Four Seasons on 57th Street. The doorman, bundled in a heavy coat, sprang into action before the wheels had even stopped rolling.

"Mr. Sterling," the doorman said, opening the back door. His professional mask didn't slip, but Zoe saw the flicker of surprise in his eyes at the sight of Jade's combat boots hitting the pristine pavement.

Liam practically carried Jade out of the car. "Easy, easy," he murmured, shielding her from the wind with his body.

Zoe sat in the front seat, the meter ticking loudly. The driver turned to her, eyebrows raised. "That'll be forty-five," the driver said. "Hazard pay. Plus we had to circle three avenues to avoid the plows and road closures."

Zoe blinked, snapping back to reality. Liam hadn't even looked at the meter. He hadn't looked at her. He was already halfway to the revolving doors.

She fumbled with her purse, her fingers numb and clumsy. She shoved cash at the driver-too much, she knew, but she didn't care about the change. She scrambled out of the car, the wind immediately assaulting her.

She had to jog to catch up. The revolving door spun, and she narrowly missed getting her coat caught in the mechanism. She stumbled into the lobby, breathless.

The warmth of the hotel hit her like a physical blow. The scent of expensive lilies and polished mahogany filled her nose, a stark contrast to the sterile bleach of the police station.

Liam was already at the front desk. The night manager was handing him a key card with both hands, bowing slightly.

"Penthouse suite, Mr. Sterling. As usual."

As usual.

The words echoed in Zoe's head. How many times had he been here? And with whom?

Zoe trailed behind them to the elevators. She felt like an intruder in her own life. A shadow.

Inside the elevator, the silence was deafening. Jade leaned her head on Liam's shoulder, letting out a small, theatrical groan. "Everything is spinning, Lee."

"I've got you," Liam said, his voice thick with concern. He tightened his grip around her waist.

Zoe stood in the corner, pressing her back against the cold metal wall. She caught her reflection in the mirrored doors. She looked washed out, her eyes wide and fearful, her expensive coat hanging limp on her frame. She looked pathetic.

The elevator dinged at the top floor.

The suite was massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the Manhattan skyline, now obscured by the swirling white vortex of the blizzard. It was beautiful and terrifying.

Liam helped Jade sit on the velvet sofa. "Zoe," he said, not turning around. "Get some water. Ice. Now."

The command was automatic. It was the tone he used with his assistant, or the housekeepers at the Sterling estate.

Zoe stood frozen for a second. A spark of indignation flared in her chest, hot and sharp. I am not your servant.

But then Liam turned, his brow furrowed. "Zoe? Did you hear me?"

The habit of obedience was a deep groove in her brain. Years of covering for him, of helping him, of being the 'good friend.' She bit her lip until she tasted copper, and walked to the wet bar.

She filled two crystal glasses with water and ice. Her hands were shaking so bad the ice clinked against the glass like wind chimes.

She walked back to the sofa. Jade was watching her. The girl's eyes were clear now, the pain seemingly forgotten. There was a challenge in her gaze.

Zoe extended a glass toward her.

Jade reached out. As her fingers brushed the glass, she jerked her hand.

"Oops," Jade said.

The water splashed all over Zoe. It soaked the front of her cashmere sweater, drenching her coat, running cold down her stomach.

Zoe gasped, jumping back, water dripping from her chin.

"My hand just... spasmed," Jade said, her voice flat. There was the ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Jesus, Zoe!" Liam snapped.

Zoe looked at him, eyes wide with shock. "She... she threw it at me."

"Don't be ridiculous," Liam scowled, grabbing a napkin from the table. He didn't hand it to Zoe. He began dabbing at a tiny drop of water that had landed on Jade's leather jacket. "Her wrist is sprained. She can barely hold anything. Why are you so clumsy?"

The injustice of it punched the air out of Zoe's lungs. "Liam, look at me. I'm soaked."

"It's just water," he dismissed, tossing the napkin on the table. "Stop making this about you."

He turned his back on her, focusing entirely on Jade. "Come on, let's get you to bed. You need to rest."

Jade stood up, shooting Zoe one last look over Liam's shoulder. It was a look of pure victory.

They moved toward the bedroom.

"Liam," Zoe said. Her voice was small, trembling.

He stopped at the bedroom door, his hand on the frame. He looked back, impatience etched into every line of his face.

"What now, Zoe?"

"Who is she?" Zoe asked. She needed to hear him say it. She needed him to destroy the last shred of hope she was clinging to.

"She's a friend," Liam said. The lie was so lazy it was insulting.

From inside the bedroom, Jade's voice drifted out, sugary and low. "Lee... I can't get my boots off. Help me?"

Liam's eyes darkened. A raw, hungry look crossed his face that Zoe had never seen directed at her in twenty years of knowing him.

He started to step into the room.

Zoe surged forward, grabbing his sleeve. "Liam, please. You can't just... leave me out here. Talk to me."

He ripped his arm away. The violence of the motion made Zoe stumble back.

"Zoe, stop," he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "Don't overstep. You are my best friend. You are like a sister to me. Don't make this weird."

Sister.

The word was a slap. It was a wall. It was a weapon. By calling her a sister, he stripped her of the right to be jealous. He made her feelings perverse.

"Go home, Zoe," Liam said coldly. "And not a word of this to my parents. Or yours."

He stepped into the bedroom and slammed the door.

The click of the lock was the loudest sound Zoe had ever heard.

She stood alone in the sprawling suite. The silence rushed back in, heavy and suffocating. From behind the door, she heard a giggle, then the murmur of Liam's voice, low and soothing. Then the sound of a zipper being pulled down.

Zoe felt bile rise in her throat. She looked down at herself. Her coat was heavy with water, darkening the fabric. She was shivering, but she couldn't tell if it was from the cold or the shock.

She looked at the foyer. Liam's dress shoes were kicked off haphazardly next to Jade's combat boots. They lay there, touching, intimate in a way that made Zoe's chest ache.

She couldn't breathe in here. The air felt thin, tainted.

She turned and ran.

She sprinted out of the suite, down the hallway, her wet heels slipping on the carpet. She jammed the elevator button, hitting it over and over as tears finally blurred her vision.

She had to get out. She had to get away from him, from them, from the fool she had been.

The elevator doors opened, and she practically fell inside. She rode it down to the lobby, ignoring the curious stares of a couple in evening wear.

She burst through the revolving doors and out into the night.