by K. A. Tucker
At least, I’m pretty sure that I have.
Cracking the top of the pill bottle, I pop one and wash it down with the vodka, even though I know I shouldn’t. It’s kind of like water for me anyway now.
The yellow rose petals and card that Jace sent me last week sit at the top of the box. I pull the note out and smile, reading the message. He still cares about me.
Yes, there’s still hope.
The buzzer rings, and I frown. I’m not expecting anyone tonight, and no one I know ever just drops by. Shutting the box, I force myself out of bed and hit the “answer” button on the wall.
“Hey, Celine. It’s me.”
My heart skips at the sound of Jace’s muffled voice. It’s late. Ten thirty on a Sunday night. “Come on up!” I slam the door lock release to let him through. And then I panic, checking my reflection to confirm that my face is indeed as puffy as I think it is.
There’s not much I can do about the puffiness or my bloodshot eyes or the fact that I’ve already had two too many drinks, but the tank top and sweatpants can be improved upon. I have just enough time to swap them for a cute nightshirt and my silk robe before I hear his knock.
I throw open the door.
He smiles, but it’s off. It’s the same smile he gave me the night he came here to confront me. Then, I was none the wiser. Now, it’s like I’m on eggshells. I won’t let it sway my determination, though. “Hey, come in.” I usher him in, not wanting to answer any questions from Ruby tomorrow about the man in my apartment. But she’s likely asleep at this point anyway.
“I got your message.” His gaze drifts over the apartment, settling on the far shelf next to my desk. I know why. It’s where my camera used to be hidden, back when I didn’t know Grady had used it to spy on me. Grady still hasn’t admitted to it, of course, and I haven’t gone to the police because then they’d see the video and I’d have to explain why Jace threw cash down on the table. It won’t end well for anyone.
“There’s no camera. I swear. It was just the one and it’s disconnected. You can check if you want; it’s in my desk drawer.”
Nodding, he turns to look at me, his eyes drifting down to where my robe sits parted slightly. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay. Do you want a drink?” I gesture at the bottle of vodka sitting out, my half-finished glass next to it.
“No. Thank you.”
I reach out to graze his forearm lightly, because I can’t help myself. “I got your flowers. They were beautiful. Thank you.” I already told him as much in a voice mail that he never responded to.
A frown flickers over his face, but he says nothing. “What is this Ming bowl you were talking about on your voice message?”
“Here. Come.” I hook my arm through his—because I need to touch him, I want him to remember how good this felt, how good this can feel again—and pull him over to the couch, where it sits in a box, waiting. I carefully pull the blue-and-white floral bowl out to show him. “I found it last weekend. It’s perfect for your mother. She’s going to love it.” I’ve never even met her and I know.
He turns it over to study the seal. “Is this authentic?”
I show him the certificate that Ling gave me, pressing my lips together to keep from grinning too proudly. “I would have had my friend at Hollingsworth appraise it, but I couldn’t get hold of him in time.” Hans would lose his mind if he knew I was going to that “hack shop” for appraisals.
I can’t read the look on Jace’s face. “Where’d you find this?”
“An estate sale in Queens. It was only thirty-five bucks.”
“This is . . . I don’t know what to say.”
That you’ve forgiven me. That you realize we’re too perfect together to let my past get in the way.
“You want to see something really amazing? Look what else I found.” I grab his hand and pull him to my desk, where the twin vase sits. “There’s this well-known story of a missing Qing Dynasty vase with a red dragon on it. Everyone believes that it’s been lost forever.” I tell him the story of the emperor’s twin boy and girl, and the phoenix and the dragon vases made in memory of them. “And these markings?” I use the excuse to hold his hand so I can trace his finger over the script. “I really think this is legit, Jace. I think I’ve made an insane discovery!” I can’t keep the excitement from my voice.
It must be infectious because I can feel his excitement now, too. “What would something like this be worth?”
I hit the space bar on my keyboard, and the blog post I’ve been working on for days opens up. “Look at all of these . . .” I scroll through the list of articles I found on other authentic Qing Dynasty items. At the lowest, they’re worth tens of thousands. “Chinese businessmen are snapping these up as soon as they hit the market, wanting to bring their heritage back home. Look at this one.” My stomach does a flip. “It went at auction for equivalent to eighty-five million dollars. And that’s not nearly as valuable as this twin vase. I honestly don’t even know what someone might pay for a famous missing piece like this. I’d gladly take one million, but I know that if this proves to be authentic, it’s going to be more than that. This is life-altering for me.”
“You said this is a twin? Who has the one with the phoenix?” Jace asks.
“It’s in a private collection, but I haven’t confirmed exactly who has it just yet.” That’s where I’ll definitely need Hans’s help.
Jace nods slowly, peering down at me through those gorgeous blue eyes. “This is quite the find.”
“Isn’t it?”
His gaze skates over my lips. “Am I the first person you’ve told?”
“Yes. You’re the first. The only.” I lean into him.
Hoping he’ll close the distance.
Praying.
He takes a step back.
My heart falters. “Don’t you get it? It means I’ll never have to worry about money again. I’ll never have to do that other stuff again! I’ve already stopped,” I’m quick to say. “I’m done. A hundred percent. I swear. I’m sorry I lied to you like that. And that video is never going to surface. I promise.”
His jaw tenses. He was so angry the day he came here with that jump drive and note in his hand to ask me what the hell I was doing. Like I was the one blackmailing him.
When he plugged it in and showed it to me, I made it to the bathroom just in time to lose my dinner. I thought that alone would have been enough to convince him that it wasn’t me.
“I swear, I had no idea that Grady was capable of that. I ended it with him right after I said I would.” Right after you dumped me.
But I’m going to get you back. I am.
He opens his mouth, hesitates. “That’s good because you shouldn’t be selling yourself like that. You’re far too smart and beautiful to let just anyone have you.”
“I’m not letting anyone have me. Ever again. I’m yours and only yours.” I grab hold of his hand, the tears already beginning. I can’t seem to keep them at bay lately. “Please let me have another chance. I will make it up to you, I promise.”
“You have to stop this, Celine,” he says, his voice icy calm. “The calls. The visits. Notes, like this one.” He pulls from his back pocket the envelope that I sent through the internal building mail service. “People are going to figure it out.”
“No, they won’t. Not from that.” All it said was that I’m sorry.
Because I am. So very sorry.
“Natasha opened it. You don’t think a woman’s handwriting on a note like this would make her start asking questions?”
“Why? Because you’re sleeping with her?” I snap. I didn’t mean to snap.
“I . . .” His mouth drops open. “Where did you hear that?”
I should tell him what she did. But I don’t want to drag Dani or Marnie into this. “It doesn’t matter how I know. It’s bad enough that I know. And only a week after we broke up?”
“You’re kidding me, right? It was one night—one mistake. You’ve be
en whoring yourself out for months and you have the nerve to even say a single word to me about that?” He’s angry now.
And he’s right.
“You’re right. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Please, can we just start over? I promise I won’t say anything.”
He heaves a sigh, like he’s exhausted. “Celine . . . come on. I can’t keep having this conversation with you. We were together for a couple of months. It was nothing.”
“Do you take all your girlfriends to see your mother?”
He grits his teeth. “Okay, fine. It was more than just a casual thing.”
“And we can have it back.” I press myself up against him in an attempt to convince him.
“No. We can’t.”
Tear. More tears pour out, unbidden. “Please don’t say that. I can’t take that.”
“It’s over, Celine. I don’t know how else to explain it.”
I start to sob uncontrollably, my face falling into his chest. “Then why did you bother coming tonight?” There’s nothing comforting in the feel of his body under my cheek anymore. It’s tense and unwelcoming, and why oh why am I begging and pleading like this?
“Honestly? I looked into that Grady guy, and he’s not hurting for money. Plus, he never followed through with the blackmail threat. Why?”
“Because I asked him not to?” I honestly don’t know why he didn’t. I want nothing more to do with Grady, or Jay.
Jace’s well-groomed eyebrow arches. “So he’s willing to go to the trouble of blackmail but doesn’t actually go through with it because you asked him not to? Doesn’t make sense, Celine. But what does make sense is that the one person who’s willing to do just about anything for money and is obviously feeling unstable right now would do something irrational and then feel guilty about it after.”
“What?” I pull back to look at him. Now I see it. The question in his eyes. “You don’t still believe that I had anything to do with it, do you?” Anger flares deep within me. I hate that he thinks I could do something so vile and cruel. “Well then maybe I should just go and leak it then!” I don’t even have a copy. “Maybe I’ll wait until my mother dies and then I won’t give a shit who sees!” As soon as the words are out, I gasp and slap a hand over my mouth. I can’t believe I just said that. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m just going through a really hard time with my mom and stress with work and now this.”
He closes his eyes and rubs the frown lines out of his forehead. “I don’t think you’re okay at all.”
I laugh through my sobs and I sound even more pathetic. “You’re only just realizing that now? I’m heartbroken! I’m madly in love with you!”
“Okay, shhh . . .” He holds his hands up. “Calm down!” I hear a whisper of “Jesus” before “Have you slept lately?”
I shake my head, trying to stop crying. I can’t. “I just took a pill, though. It should help. If not, I’ll take another.”
“Sleeping pills?”
“Yes. And a Xanax. I went off them for a while, but I’m getting back on them now. I’ll be fine soon, trust me.”
He eyes the vodka, and I know what he’s thinking. Stupid. Yes, I know.
“Okay . . .” He heaves a big sigh. I’ve shaken him up. He just wants to get the hell away from me.
“Please don’t leave.” I reach for him, rope my arms around his waist. “Please stay awhile. I’m having a really tough night.”
For so long, he keeps his eyes closed. Thinking.
Fighting his feelings for me, I’m sure.
He knows we’re perfect together.
When his eyes finally open, they trail down the front of my nightshirt. And his fingertips . . . they twirl the spaghetti strap, as if he’s tempted to slip it off. “I want you to go lie down in bed,” he says softly. “I’ll get you another sleeping pill.”
My heart jumps with hope. Is it possible? Has he changed his mind, at least for tonight? I’ll start with just tonight. He’s not ready to walk away from me yet, no matter what he says. He’s just afraid. I have to convince him that I won’t ever hurt him. I won’t ever betray him like I did.
And I won’t, because I’m going to make millions of dollars off the sale of that vase and live how I’m meant to live, and even though I can’t do anything about my dying mother, at least I have that.
Everything is going to work out.
“Okay,” I agree, making my way over to slip into my double bed that he and I haven’t slept in together yet. I want to. I want to erase the last time we were together, on my couch—and I want to do it tonight.
I’ve learned a thing or two in my time trying to please men who pay for me, and so I lie down on top of my sheets, letting my gown slide high up my thigh without giving too much away. Jace did say that he likes my muscular thighs and my curvy figure.
Finally he returns, with a clear glass in hand, and chunks of ice floating inside. He has one for himself, too. “Figured one drink wouldn’t hurt.” His eyes trail over my body and I see something unreadable in them. Something cold.
I push the thought away.
He’ll change his mind.
“I crushed the pill and dumped it in for you. That’s what I do sometimes, when I can’t sleep. Works every time.”
I take the glass, even though I know it’s stupid to take a sleeping pill with vodka, but Jace does it and he says it’s fine and he’d never hurt me. He cares about me. I know he does. I wince as tiny chunks of pill coat my tongue.
“I know, it tastes weird, but it works. Trust me.”
“I do trust you.” I smile and take another large sip, forcing back the granular bits. “An Ambien, right?” I should have made sure he didn’t take the pill from the unmarked bottle on the left in the medicine cabinet. I don’t even know how old that Oxy is. Six months at least. A client gave them to me one night. I never took any, but I also never flushed them.
He smiles gently. “Right. Drink up.”
By the time I’ve finished my drink—straight vodka’s an acquired taste that I have mastered in the last year—my tongue has gone numb.
“Talk to me.”
He smiles, but it’s a bit strained. “About what?”
I nod to his drink. “Aren’t you going to have yours?”
He swirls it around. “I don’t know. I like watching you more.” His gaze crawls over my body, stalling on my panties, where I’ve let my nightshirt slide up. “Here. How about you drink mine.” He hands it to me and then, with his now free hand, strokes the side of my face, pushing my hair away. “Go on. Drink up.”
I do, happy to please him in any way I can. He’s so gentle, so slow, it’s almost like he’s not even touching me. Or maybe it’s the sleeping pill taking effect. I can feel the weight of it in my stomach almost instantly, the potency beginning to radiate out into my limbs.
He continues stroking my face as I force down the drink, telling myself that this is the last one. In fact, this is the last vodka I’m ever drinking. I’m going to have to call in sick to work tomorrow, but I don’t care. I’ve already given my notice. Those assholes know my mother’s dying and they can’t give me more than three months off? Fuck them.
Everything tastes gritty now, like it’s chalky with pills, but that must just be the residue on my tongue from my drink. This is Jace’s drink.
“Can you lie down with me?” I ask, my lids beginning to feel heavy, my body sinking into the mattress. It’s not the most relaxing feeling, to be honest, but I guess that means the pill is working and I’ll be asleep soon.
Tomorrow will be better.
“Jace?” It takes some effort to say his name.
I crack my eyes open to see him flipping through my diary left on the nightstand. “Oh, God. No . . . ,” I say, and I intended that to be more vehement than I think it is when it comes out. There’s all kinds of things in there, about how much I love him, and about Grady—I don’t want him reading about me sleeping with another man.
“It’s okay. It
’s good for me to read this,” he whispers, his face a sorrowful mask. “It makes me feel better about doing this. You weren’t going to stop, were you?”
Trying to win you back? I smile with my eyes closed now, because everything’s spinning. “No. I wasn’t. I love you too much,” I whisper, and I can’t be sure I even moved my mouth. “I think I’m going to fall asleep now.” I force my eyes open. Jace isn’t beside me anymore. Where did he go so fast? Movement catches my eye, and I strain to focus farther. He’s still here. He’s at the door now, with a cardboard box in his hand.
I knew buying that bowl for his mother was a good idea.
Swallowing is so hard right now.
Why is it so hard?
I’m so tired.
I’ll sleep well tonight. I can feel it.
CHAPTER 47
Maggie
December 23, 2015
“She was fucking obsessed with me,” Jace mutters. “Pages and pages of diary entries about me, about how much she loved me, about how perfect I am for her, about how I’m the one.”
“I knew there was another diary,” I whisper in triumph, even though it seems silly now to be so happy about that. My limbs are beginning to feel tingly, like I might not have complete control of them if I try to move. At least it’s taking longer than I expected for these drugs to sink in.
I’m not dead yet.
“And it told me everything I needed to know. She had turned our short relationship into some fairy tale with a happily ever after. We were already getting married, in her eyes. And then when we broke up . . .” He shakes his head. “She completely lost it. Between the phone calls and the constant crying . . . You should see what she wrote in there about me, about never giving me up. And every time I told her that it was over, she’d start bawling her eyes out. It was only a matter of time before that turned into anger and revenge. Plenty of other women like that have brought down powerful men before. They’re the irrational ones who turn bitter and call up the media to try and destroy your reputation when they finally realize they’re not going to get what they want.”
