He Will Be My Ruin

by K. A. Tucker

  “No, I just thought . . .” He shakes his head at himself and chuckles. “I guess maybe I did think that, which is stupid.”

  I giggle at the moment of vulnerability. He’s one of those guys who gives off an air of confidence that would make you think he knows everything about everything, so to see him laugh at himself is enchanting. “You have to wade through a lot of trash to get to the treasures, but when you do find something, it’s worth it. Many people don’t realize what they have, and they sell it off for next to nothing. Luckily, I know enough to know a treasure when I see it.”

  That seems to give him pause. “Well then, I think I ought to get your help.”

  The elevator opens to my floor. I so badly want to stay on and ride the rest of the way up with him, but I doubt he’s into desperate women. “Sure. You name the time.” I step off and turn around, to find him smiling at me.

  He nods toward the Vanderpoel sign hanging on the wall. “I’ll call you. Have a nice day, Celine.”

  I feel my cheeks flush.

  The elevator doors shut, leaving me staring at my reflection in the metal wall before me. At least I wore a dress like this—my black-and-white striped pencil, the one that I have to wear a blazer over because the plunging neckline makes it highly inappropriate for the workplace. Of course the blazer was undone during that entire exchange. I just gave Jace an eyeful of what my mother calls an “ample bosom.”

  Considering what I’m doing on the side to make ends meet, it shouldn’t faze me in the least, and yet it does. I want him to see me as a classy, smart, competent woman. Not just another girl to screw.

  Did he actually mean what he said about antique hunting together?

  CHAPTER 28

  Maggie

  December 13, 2015

  “I met Celine at a Hollingsworth exhibit in July. I was there for a pre-auction viewing of a private collection. We started talking and she told me she was studying to become an antiques appraiser. I thought that was fortunate because—”

  “Your parents are collectors,” I say, cutting him off.

  “How’d you . . .” He frowns. “Never mind.” Accepting his drink from the server and waving her away with a small pile of bills, he takes a sip. He seems more calm than he was a few moments ago. “Anyway, a week after that, I ran into her again at work, and soon after that, we made plans to visit a few shops together to help me look for something.”

  “Something?”

  “A gift, for my mother’s upcoming birthday.”

  “The same gift that’s sitting in your office now, in December? You must be a devoted son, spending so many months looking.” I don’t try to hide my sarcasm. “So you asked her out on a date?”

  “I guess you could call it that.”

  He’s lying. Their first “date” was in a hotel room, when he introduced himself as Jay and she introduced herself as Maggie, and he paid to fuck her on the couch with all the lights on. “Then what happened?”

  He shrugs. “We really hit it off. She was beautiful, smart, and motivated. Classy. We went out for dinner several times, spent a Sunday on Long Island, antiquing. That special trick box in my office that you smashed? Celine bought that for me.” He shrugs. “I liked her.” He stares at the amber liquid in his glass, deep in thought.

  “Why do none of her friends know about you two, then?”

  “She didn’t want to tell them. She didn’t want to tell anyone.”

  That makes no sense. What single twenty-eight-year-old woman lands one of New York’s most eligible bachelors and doesn’t tell anyone?

  Then again, Celine was keeping more than one big secret at the time.

  “I saw the video, Jace. I’ve also read some of her diary entries. I know what she was doing for money. So maybe she didn’t tell anyone because you two weren’t actually ‘dating.’ ”

  “Do I look like I need to pay for it?” he snaps. “I wasn’t one of her fucking johns, and I had no idea how she was making her money when we met.” A hard gaze levels me. “I didn’t find out until I was just days away from bringing her to Chicago for a weekend, to meet my parents. My father, the governor of Illinois.”

  I watch him fidget in his chair. He’s uncomfortable, but I can’t tell if it’s because of the subject or because he’s lying.

  “I was here for drinks with a client one night. Sitting right over there.” He juts his chin toward another part of the bar lounge. “And Celine strolled by with some guy, her arm hooked through his. The way she was dressed, her makeup . . .” He shakes his head and sneers. “I’m no idiot. This guy had to be thirty years older than her.”

  “When was that?”

  “Early October.”

  Larissa said Celine stopped taking customers in July. Obviously that was a lie. But who was lying to whom?

  Jace leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You wanted to know why she didn’t tell any of her friends about me? It’s because she knew that my father would be heading for reelection. I even joked about it on one of our dates, telling her that if she had any skeletons in her closet, she better tell me because his opposition was particularly brutal, and they’d no doubt dig into her, just like they’d dug into me.”

  And then everyone would know Celine’s dirty little secret. Rosa could find out. That’s certainly reason enough for her to keep quiet. “So that night at her apartment, the night of the video . . .”

  He sighs. “We were supposed to be heading to Chicago the next day, to meet my parents. I went there to confront her and she admitted to working as an escort. Told me that she didn’t want to do it anymore, and had mostly stopped after our first date, but that her mother was sick and she couldn’t get by on just her day salary. She needed the money. The guy I saw her with was an old regular in town, who just wanted a companion. She swore she never fucked him.”

  His account jives, in theory, with what I saw on the first part of the video. But not the second part. “Funny. When I’m disgusted by someone, I don’t drop my pants.”

  His mouth twists in displeasure. “I’d had a few drinks and I was angry. So I told her to show me exactly what she did for the ones she did fuck. And so she did. And then I threw money down because I knew it would hurt her. I wanted nothing to do with her ever again.”

  “And did you have anything to do with her ever again?” I dare you to lie to me, Jace. I have proof—as far as I’m concerned—that he was in Celine’s apartment the night that she died. Unfortunately the apartment’s stored surveillance footage only retains about a week’s worth before it loops over recorded material, so I can’t see how many other times he visited Celine in her home.

  He sucks back another gulp of his drink. “That jump drive you stole? It showed up in an unmarked envelope on my desk at work, two weeks after that night in her apartment. The video was on there, with the note that you also took.”

  Jace was being blackmailed. Just like Doug had suggested. “So you’re saying that you didn’t hack into her computer and make a copy?”

  “Me? Hack into a computer?” Jace’s face screws up. “I may manage hundreds of millions of dollars, but I don’t know the first fucking thing about hacking into computers. Plus, I didn’t even know she had a hidden camera. Do you think I would have done that, had I known? My face is clearly on it, along with a lot more of me. That video would ruin my father if it got out.”

  “I wouldn’t know . . . I focused more on the before and after,” I admit, feeling my cheeks flush as that same sickness churns in my stomach now that did when I first watched Celine undress in front of him. “So when you found the video on your desk . . .”

  “I thought Celine was trying to extort money from me. So I went to her place and confronted her. She denied it, of course. She even made a huge production of pulling her hidden camera off her shelf and ripping the cord out, saying that she must have been hacked. I didn’t believe her so I called her bluff. I told her to go ahead and leak it.”

  “There’s no way Celine would do tha
t. She’d never risk her mother seeing something like that.” I would bet my entire trust fund on it. But what if I’m wrong?

  He smirks. “Well, I didn’t pay, and nothing ever happened. You know what that means, right?”

  “That you had motive to kill her?”

  “I . . .” Whatever he was going to say stalls at his lips as first confusion, then shock, then outrage passes over his handsome features. “No! It means that she had no intention of ever leaking it.”

  I’m done playing this game. “Or it means that you killed her to stop her from releasing the video. And then you stole a Chinese vase potentially worth millions that she had recently found in a garage sale.”

  “Killed her for a vase?” He leans forward, glancing for any potential eavesdroppers, and then hisses, “Are you completely insane?”

  “Maybe. But that doesn’t change the truth.”

  “I didn’t kill anyone!”

  I study his face for a moment—full of anger and wild panic. I did just accuse him of murder. “Well, someone did.”

  “Celine killed herself. You just don’t want to believe that, so you’re trying to pin this on me.” He shakes his head. “And before you come back, accusing me of lying again, let me give you all the facts. I was actually at Celine’s twice after the night of the video recording on that jump drive. Once, to confront her about the extortion scam. And then again, on November fifteenth. Yes, the same night that she died.”

  “Why were you there?”

  “Because she called to tell me that she had found the perfect gift for my mother. A Ming porcelain bowl. Not a vase.”

  I snort, a very unladylike sound for a woman wearing couture. “You expect me to believe that she would go shopping for your mother after all that?” Even as the words escape my mouth, I know I’m wrong. Celine was very clearly very madly in love with Jace Everett. She’d do anything to get him back. Finding a gift for his mother may have been one of her tactics.

  And I did find that bowl in his office.

  “You can believe whatever you want, but it’s the truth.” He sucks his cheeks in with a mouthful of drink. “I felt sorry for her. She was obviously a good girl who had made some bad choices in desperation. Either way, I assumed she still had dirt on me, and I didn’t want to make an enemy of her, so I tried to make peace. I even sent her flowers.”

  I sigh. “Yellow roses and a card that said—”

  “That I still cared very much about her. Yes.” Jace peers into his glass. “Yellow for friendship. I wanted to leave things on good terms with her. It was an impulsive gesture, an idea that hit me as I walked by a flower shop. In hindsight, maybe I shouldn’t have done it.”

  What did a card like that mean to Celine?

  Did she think she still had a chance?

  If she had any hope that he was still the man who would save her from having to spend one more night with any of Larissa’s clients, she’d go out of her way to help him. To give him a sign that she still cared.

  I hate that his account of his relationship with Celine is making more and more sense. This would explain why he left her apartment with that cardboard box that night.

  But, then again . . . “You slept with your assistant, and Celine knew that.” I remember Dani saying it was sometime in October. So why would Celine still want anything to do with him?

  I can literally hear Jace’s teeth crack as his jaw clenches. “How the fuck did you find out about that? Who the hell are you working with?”

  “That would have crushed Celine,” I say, not answering his question.

  Jace sighs, rubs his forehead. “I was piss drunk at a work event, we had just split up, and Celine had no right to be upset, given she’d been fucking other men for money while we were together. But, yes . . . She went mental over that. A lot of crying and ‘how could you.’ She wasn’t stable. And then suddenly a blackmail video shows up on my desk, not even two weeks later. But we talked, I called her bluff and told her to post it, and she didn’t. I thought she had calmed down. Come to her senses. And then she left a voice mail, telling me she had found something for my mother. I wasn’t sure if it was another ploy to see me.” His tone says he’s quickly losing patience with me. “So I went to her place, thinking I would pick up the piece if she actually had it, make five minutes of small talk, and leave. She was already drinking, and extremely emotional. She did have the gift for my mom. I think she thought it would somehow fix things between us. When she realized that it wouldn’t . . .” He shakes his head. “What she did to herself after I left, only she will ever know. And the Ming bowl that she gave me? It’s not worth millions. She gave it to me with an appraisal certificate for four to seven thousand. She paid thirty-five dollars for it, and I reimbursed her for that. It’s now mine.”

  “I don’t care about a bowl. I want the vase with the red dragon . . .” I say halfheartedly. I was so sure Jace had it.

  If Celine actually tried to blackmail Jace—or he thought she had, at least—it would take a pretty forgiving guy to keep any communication with her going. Is Jace that forgiving? I doubt it. Even if some of what he’s telling me is the truth, I’m sure it’s balanced by a few choice lies. But until I can poke holes in his statements, I have nothing. I don’t even have the video, which is inadmissible, as Doug warned me.

  Jace must see my wavering confidence. “Don’t keep going down this path, Maggie. It’ll never stick, and you’ll ruin my life, my father’s life, and yours in the process, along with Celine’s reputation.” He stands. “That was a private night between Celine and me, and no one has any business watching it.”

  “No one’s going to watch it. For now. Jay.”

  He seems unfazed by my use of that name, but he’s clearly pissed off. “If that video ever sees the light of day, you’re going to jail.” He leans over, so close to me that the smell of the scotch on his breath kisses my nostrils. “Just because you had your people erase security footage doesn’t mean you’ll get away with this.”

  Erase security footage? Wait. Does that mean . . .

  I fail at keeping the surprise from my face, but he doesn’t react. “I’m guessing your fingerprints are all over my office. All I have to do is call the police and report a robbery, and I’ll have you on theft.” Standing tall again, he slams the rest of his drink back. “You also seem to have forgotten that you’ve entrusted me with a large sum of your money. If you suspected me of all this, why the fuck would you do that?”

  “To get closer to you.”

  I hear “crazy, rich broad” under his breath. “I hope you’re at least covering all your bases before you hang yourself.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I mean, like looking into her clients. All of them. Especially that building super.”

  Now it’s my turn to glare at him like he’s insane. “Who, Grady? There’s no way he was one of her clients.”

  He snorts. “I guess you haven’t been doing your research well after all.” He sets his glass down on the side table in one slow, precise movement before marching away.

  CHAPTER 29

  Maggie

  “There you are!” Ruby finds me, her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry that I abandoned you to dance.” She rolls her hips in a slow, stiff motion. “That gentleman had moves.”

  Normally, that would have made me laugh. But I can’t shake Jace’s last words long enough to find humor in anything right now.

  Grady?

  She eases herself into the chair that Jace was just in. “Did I just see that moneyman leave here?”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “And? Trouble?”

  “I’m not quite sure.” He’s right, my fingerprints are all over his desk. But what happened to the incriminating footage of me? Did Doug have a change of heart? Or did he simply say all that as a cover? I heave a sigh. “He knows I drugged him. He’s threatening me.”

  “Oh, dear. That can’t be good.” Her words are on point, but her tone says she’s more curious than c
oncerned. I replay part of the conversation for her. “So you have something concrete on him, though. Something to hold over his head?” She has a devious mind.

  “I do. And it involves Jace paying Celine for her ‘skills.’ ” I haven’t told Ruby about the jump drive video yet. I wasn’t sure that I ever wanted to. To be honest, I’d prefer to destroy it and have no one ever know about or see Celine like that, ever. “Tell me what you know about Grady.”

  “Grady?” Ruby laughs and smiles, like I just asked her to tell me about her own grandchild. “He’s such a kind, funny young man. He’s always coming to help me when I need him. Everyone around the building just adores him. And he’s so smart. He can fix anything! The lady in apartment 207 has one of those fancy espresso machines. It just up and stopped working one day and Grady fixed it.”

  “But what else do you know? Like, what’s his last name? When did he become the super there? When did he come over from England? What does he do besides smoke pot and fix things?” I fire off question after question. Questions that, frankly, I should already know the answers to about a guy I’ve been sleeping with. I feel like I’m about to lose my dinner all over this glamorous dress.

  “Maggie, what’s this about? Are you okay? You’ve gone pale.”

  “Jace said that Grady was one of Celine’s clients,” I admit reluctantly.

  “Grady? Oh heavens, no . . .” She chuckles. “That’s preposterous. How could he even afford such a thing? Celine wouldn’t have been one of those cheap girls and he doesn’t make all that much.” Shaking her head, she adds, “Don’t listen to that fool. He’s trying to steer you away from himself. You’re on the right track with the moneyman. It always goes back to the money.”

  Such a simple and quick dismissal from Ruby—a sharp old lady who knows Grady far better than any of us knows Jace Everett—helps quell the nausea inside me.

  But far from completely.

  ————

  I hold the door to our building lobby open for Ruby and she practically floats in, flashing a business card with a phone number written in blue ink. “Theodore asked me out to afternoon tea next week.”