He Will Be My Ruin

by K. A. Tucker

  “Stay away from him. Zac’s going to look for any connections between him and Chinese art. And first thing tomorrow, you’re going to go down to that firm and find out exactly what Celine told Jace about Grady. Word for word.”

  I groan at the idea of seeing Jace again, now that I know I might have drugged and stolen from an innocent man. Well, “innocent” is a stretch after what I saw on that jump drive. But innocent of murder, most likely. “He wants me charged and put behind bars. He’s not going to tell me anything.”

  “I’m guessing he’d rather have you focused on someone other than him,” Doug counters.

  He’s probably right.

  “You know what he’s going to want in return though, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  Doug reaches into his console and pulls out a small black kit. “Ready?”

  CHAPTER 33

  Maggie

  “What exactly did she tell you about Grady?”

  Jace looks up from his computer, his phone pressed against his ear, the skyline of midtown Manhattan looming behind him, the sky filled with drifting snowflakes. It’s much like the first time I stormed into his office, only now I finally have some answers.

  But I also have far more questions.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Everett. She must have snuck past the main desk. She pushed me out of the way!” Natasha says from behind me. “Can I please call Security?”

  “I’ll call you back,” Jace says and hangs up. “Yes, Miss Sparkes is willing to do just about anything to get what she wants.” He’s much calmer than when I saw him last night at the gala. Amused, in fact. “No need for Security. Maybe an apology?”

  “Sorry, Natasha.” I don’t even try to make it sound sincere. Jace wouldn’t answer any of my calls this morning, and when I called her and asked her to patch me through, she refused.

  He nods toward the door. A dismissal.

  “So?” I take a seat without being offered.

  “Didn’t feel like wearing one of Celine’s dresses today?” He scans my sweater and leggings. “Yes, I recognized them.” He refocuses on his paperwork. “They looked better on her.”

  I let the dig roll off my back. I don’t care about impressing Jace, and he’s obviously not a big fan of mine anymore, now that I’ve accused him of theft and murder. “What exactly did she tell you about Grady?”

  “I can’t seem to remember . . .”

  “And what will help you remember?”

  He leans over his desk. “You know exactly what will help me remember, so quit playing games. I don’t have time for this. Some of us actually earn our money.”

  I grit my teeth and count to five slowly. Pretending to stall. Finally, I pull the jump drive out of my purse and toss it onto the desk. “What did she tell you?”

  He slides it over, rolling it in his fingers several times, and then tucks it into his coat pocket. “What did she tell me . . . what did she . . . oh, right. It was that night in her apartment, when I confronted her about being a whore.” Standing up, he strolls around his desk, the scent of his cologne competing for my attention with his overbearing confidence. “You remember . . . Right before I nailed her on her couch. And on that big trunk that you like to set your dainty teacup on.”

  I know he’s trying to get a rise out of me. “What exactly did she say about him?” I ask calmly.

  He stares down at me for a long moment, with arms folded over his chest. “That he was paying her to fuck him and only him.”

  “Bullshit.” I can hear Ruby’s voice in the back of my head, can see her face squished up with incredulity. Grady can’t afford that.

  “I’m just relaying what she told me.” Jace is acting indifferent to the entire situation, but a vein in his neck is pulsating. Something’s definitely got him agitated. “When I confronted her about the old man I saw her with at the hotel, she told me everything and swore she was trying to get out of the business. She said that was a one-off—that the man was a longtime regular who offered to pay her enough to cover a month of rent—and that she was only sleeping with one client. Her super.”

  “That’s a lie.” I still can’t wrap my head around this.

  He shrugs. “Don’t believe me then. I don’t care.”

  “Did she say anything else?”

  He twists his lips, as if he’s deciding whether he wants to help me anymore.

  CHAPTER 34

  Celine

  August 4, 2015

  I pace around my living room, chewing my thumbnail and then scolding myself for doing it. First the oven, now my fridge? Within a week of each other? The oven isn’t a big deal—I don’t bake. But my fridge has to stay cold or I’ll lose a week’s worth of groceries.

  So this time I didn’t have a choice.

  I had to text him for help.

  I’ve avoided running into Grady—or “Jay”—for three weeks, afraid it’s going to be painfully awkward to face him in normal life.

  A knock sounds.

  Taking a deep breath, I open the door. “Hey.”

  I have always found his piercing hazel eyes attractive. Actually, he is, in general, a good-looking man. If he put more of an effort into himself—maybe trimmed his hair and shaved the stubbly beard, invested in something besides jeans and sneakers—he’d have a girlfriend, and he wouldn’t be paying for sex.

  And how can he afford it? I still don’t understand. We didn’t really talk at all that night, and I didn’t think it was appropriate to ask.

  “Got your text about the fridge. I’ll see if I can fix it.”

  “Great. Thanks.” I feel a blush creep into my cheeks and immediately back up to make room for him. A shadow passing under Ruby’s door across the way tells me she’s awake and listening. She’s always listening.

  I shut the door and follow Grady as he heads straight for the galley kitchen at the far end. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a mirror on the way by, and immediately begin smoothing my hair down. But why? I’m not attracted to Grady; not enough to want more from him. He’s nice and smart, and that accent makes me swoony sometimes, but he’s not very ambitious. I’m looking for someone driven and successful.

  Someone like Jace.

  Who I haven’t heard from since that day on the elevator. I guess it was all just lip service.

  “When did it stop working?” Grady turns the temperature up all the way and, tossing his tool bag onto the floor, grabs the fridge by either side and shimmies it away from the wall.

  “Umm . . .” I can’t help but spy the muscles straining in his arms. He has a nice upper body—I know, I’ve seen him naked now. “I’m not sure. I came home from work around five with groceries and thought it wasn’t as cold as it should be. But it was still cool.”

  “Have you heard it running at all?”

  Now that he mentions it . . . “No, I don’t think so.”

  With a screwdriver, he adjusts something on the back of the fridge, and stops to listen. “It’s got to be your compressor. Lucky for you, we have the same model in every unit here, and I keep a few parts in the basement.” He pulls a cylindrical part out of his tool bag and begins working on the metal grate at the bottom of the fridge.

  “So it’s an easy fix, right?”

  “Won’t take me long at all.” He glances up to meet my eyes, and I’m brought back to the Langham, with him looking up at me then, too. I hate admitting it to myself, but I actually enjoyed that night. A lot.

  And I’ve been forced to replay my night with Grady—or “Jay”—inside my head many times since, if only to try and erase that other night the following week, with that disgusting pervert that Larissa set me up with. It was the last client date I’ve gone on, the one that made me tell her that I’m finished with that line of work.

  Even thinking about it now makes me shudder. I should have known—when the guy told me to get on my hands and knees and face the TV, when I felt the first trickles of lube running down my backside, when the home video came on and girls who were nowher
e near eighteen filled the screen, running and laughing in their bathing suits.

  Once I realized what was going on, it was too late.

  It hurt to sit the next day.

  I’ve spent quite a few nights over the last few weeks thinking about this man now on his knees in my kitchen, just to erase that awful experience.

  I can feel my cheeks redden further. I should wait in the living room until he finishes. “All right. Well, I’ll leave you to it then.”

  “How have you been?” he asks, trapping me here in conversation as he works.

  “Fine.”

  “You sure?” His tone, soft and low, carries with it a hint of something else. Like he knows I’m lying.

  I hesitate. “Not really. My mom is sick. Dying, actually.” My voice cracks with the admission. Only Dani at work and Ruby know so far.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that.” He doesn’t look up, and I appreciate that. It allows me to wipe the stray tear that slips out.

  “Yeah, actually I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it. I’m leaving to go back to San Diego in early December and then I’m going to sublet to my friend and her fiancé beginning in January, until I come back.” Once my mother is gone.

  He shrugs. “Okay.”

  “Okay? Doesn’t the landlord need to approve it?” Some guy named Dean who I’ve never met.

  “Don’t worry, he’ll approve it if I tell him to, and I will. I mean, I assume you know and trust your friend to pay rent on time.”

  “Oh, definitely.”

  “Then . . . Okay. Great.”

  God, Grady’s so easygoing. I wish I could be that easygoing.

  “And how is everything else?” Again, there’s that hint, making me wonder if he knows that the last few weeks have been especially rough. But before I can answer—and lie—I hear a motor start running.

  “There. That should do it.” He sits back on his heels. “Just try not to open the door at all for a few hours.”

  I sigh. “That’s awesome. Thank you. I really can’t afford to throw fifty dollars in groceries out.”

  He climbs to his feet, wiping his hands on a rag. “Money’s tight?”

  “A little.” I blush, realizing what he’s insinuating.

  He steps closer, forcing me to take a step back until I’m pressed against the counter. “How often do you meet men in hotels, Maggie?” His voice is low and calm and unreadable. He can’t possibly disapprove given our own encounter, but there’s nothing particularly lighthearted about that question.

  “How often do you meet women in hotels, Jay?” I throw back, but my stomach does a nauseating flip.

  A small smile curls his lips. “That was the first time.”

  He says it so convincingly, I almost believe him. “I’m not doing it anymore.”

  “Really?” He frowns. “Why did you stop?”

  “I had a bad experience recently.”

  “Not three weeks ago, I hope.”

  I smile. “It wasn’t you. You were fine. Really good.”

  His eyes trail over my face, settling on my mouth. “Good enough that you’d be willing to do it again?”

  “Can you really afford this?” I blurt out.

  He chuckles. “I have enough money.” He steps in even closer, settling his hands on either side of the counter, caging me in. “And I’d be willing to pay you for a night each week, if you’re not going to be with anyone else.”

  “I’m not,” I say quickly, because I’m done with showing up at hotel rooms and wondering what’s waiting for me behind closed doors.

  Grady runs his fingertips over my arm. “And we can just keep this between the two of us. No need to get your booking agent involved.”

  “I’m not working with her anymore, anyway.”

  “Good. Saves you some money. Saves me some money, if I can just come here.”

  “Here?” I drop my voice even more. “What about Ruby and the other tenants?”

  He presses his body into mine. I can feel his erection against my belly. “We’ll be really careful. I am only one apartment above you, and there is a fire escape connecting our apartments.”

  I glance past him toward my bedroom. How much easier would this be, if he just showed up here, got what he wanted, paid me, and then left? Normally I’d never agree to this, but it’s Grady. He’s always been respectful and kind. He’s attractive.

  And having one guy to please instead of several each week? One who I know and trust not to ask me to do weird things that I don’t want to do? It sounds like he wants to be discreet, too. The last thing I’d want is anyone around the building finding out, or even guessing at it.

  “So?” He reaches into a back pocket for his wallet, to pull out a small wad of cash. He lays it on the counter, his warm eyes resting on my face, his breath skating across my cheek. “What do you think?”

  I take it he wants to start this arrangement right now.

  I eye the bills and smile.

  Is Grady the solution to my money worries?

  CHAPTER 35

  Maggie

  December 14, 2015

  Jace settles against the edge of his desk. “Celine and I started dating mid-August. She told me that this thing between her and her super started a couple of weeks before that. She wanted to end the arrangement right away, but she needed that money until she left for San Diego.”

  “And Grady told her he has a lot of money?”

  He chuckles at my scowl. “Surprised me, too, especially after I met him that day at the apartment. Doesn’t look like a guy who can afford a decent haircut, let alone a girl like Celine at his beck and call. Anyway, the night I confronted her and we broke up, she told me that she was going to end it with him. She wanted a new life away from it all . . . with me.”

  This man was once my salvation.

  Celine saw Jace Everett—successful hedge fund manager and son of the governor of Illinois—as her Prince Charming, her gateway to a new life. The life she always wanted to lead, since growing up in La Jolla with my parents and me.

  “But why would Grady pay weekly for an escort? He could go out to any bar, buy a girl a few drinks, and bring her home. Way cheaper.”

  “How the fuck should I know? And I don’t care! He probably didn’t want to pick up some average woman at a bar. Or maybe he was in love with her and knew that a chump like him didn’t have a shot at a girl like her otherwise.” Jace shrugs. “And maybe he didn’t take it so well when she dumped him for me . . . if she ever did.”

  I’d like to believe that Jace is feeding me lies to divert me from the trail I’ve been following, but the more he reveals, the more I’m realizing he may be telling the truth.

  “Did she say anything else at all about him?”

  “No . . . We didn’t talk much after that.” Cold eyes pierce mine. “You should have watched the full video. Then you would have seen for yourself.” He’s helping me here, but he’s enjoying my suffering far too much for my liking.

  “I still can.” My laugh sounds hollow. “Oh, come on. You actually think I wouldn’t have a copy made? You’re smarter than that.”

  “Remember what I said,” he warns, his jaw clenching. “I wasn’t bluffing. I will bury you, and I don’t care how much money you have.”

  I let his threat roll off my back as I stand. “Home surveillance camera systems really aren’t safe. I wouldn’t recommend one.”

  “So I’m now realizing.” He reaches behind him for a thick legal-sized envelope and thrusts it into my hands. “Thank God I hadn’t tied your money up yet. I’ve already made arrangements to release and return all funds to you and terminate this business arrangement of ours.”

  I struggle to hide my surprise. I figured he’d be the type of guy to condemn me out of one side of his mouth and recommend investments to make us both a lot of money out of the other.

  He stands to his full height and closes the distance to loom over me, his size and height all the more daunting. “I don’t want your money. I don�
�t want to see you ever again. I regret the day you ever walked in here. I regret the day I ever met Celine.” He delivers each statement in an overly calm voice. “Get out of my office, now.”

  Judging by his poorly veiled fury, I’d say I’ve pushed him far enough. “If you honestly had nothing to do with this, then you’ll never see me again.”

  “Then this is good-bye.” He rounds his desk and sits.

  “Just so you know, I’m not letting this go. I will spend every last dollar I have figuring out what really happened to Celine. And when that stolen vase surfaces—because it will, eventually—I will know about it. It doesn’t matter where . . . New York, Chicago, Shanghai—” I reach for the door handle, “anywhere . . . I will find out, and whoever tries to sell it will have a lot to answer for.”

  I leave, feeling a strange mix of relief, vindication, regret.

  And fear.

  Fear that I’ve been after the wrong person all along.

  CHAPTER 36

  Maggie

  “By the way, whatever happened to those other cases you had?” I call out, dumping the last of Celine’s pots and pans into a box, my gaze wandering over the cupboards and counter. There’s nothing left but one cup, one bowl, a set of cutlery, and a drawer full of takeout flyers, none of which I probably even need. I haven’t been eating much, and when I do, it’s usually takeout on my Seamless account.

  Now that Celine’s collection is in storage, my assistant has arranged for a Goodwill truck to come tomorrow afternoon and collect everything else that’s left.

  Soon, all traces of my best friend will be gone.

  While that saddens me, I also need something to occupy my hands—and my mind—while I wait for Zac to come back with information on Grady.

  “They all wrapped up last week. Lucky for you, I might add, seeing as you’re now monopolizing all of my time,” Doug says from the living room.

  I wonder when Doug will be saying that this case is “wrapped up.” Will it ever truly be “wrapped up,” with answers that bring me closure?