by Amelia Wilde
There’s another dining club I know. Less exclusive. Dinner and drinks?
You lonely, Pierce?
My wife is the best woman in the world.
Message received. What time?
7:00. I’ll drive.
By which he means his driver will drive. That’s fine with me.
OK
Plans.
At least I have plans.
Noah lets me out in front of the building, and I scan the lobby for any sign of Carolyn. I don’t want to take the risk of running into her.
“She’s not there, boss.”
I don’t know how Noah knows about any of this—maybe he doesn’t, and he just knows me better than I thought—but I can’t even bring myself to scoff at the assistance.
“Thanks.”
I get out of the car and cross quickly to the doors, pulling one open with a swift yank and moving into the lobby. I don’t want to look like I’m running from someone—because I definitely fucking am—but I also don’t want to see her.
If I see her, there’s no telling what I’ll do.
There’s no telling what future harm I might end up doing to myself.
I can’t take that risk.
I can never take that risk again.
My heart is in my throat when I punch the button to call the elevator. What if she’s coming down right now, and when the doors slide open, I see her face? What if, when I see her face, I’m so furious that I spit out some cutting comment right here in the lobby, in front of the doorman and whoever else might walk in?
Worse, what if I’m so captivated by her beauty, by the kindness that radiates off of her wherever she goes, that I fall right back under her spell, never to emerge again? What then?
Would that be the worst thing in the world? The thought bubbles up before I can stop it.
Yes, I think, but I’m not convinced.
My heart is beating so hard that I put a hand to my chest, then expend all the rest of my energy putting it back down to my side. The last thing I need is for anyone here to think I’m having a fucking heart attack and make a scene.
The doors slide open….
To reveal Mrs. Hensley, the woman who was outside that night, asking about her husband.
“Well, hello!” she cries gaily as she exits the elevator with a slow shuffle. I put my hand on the doors to keep them from sliding shut too early, and she beams up at me.
“You are too handsome, young man.” She wags a finger in my direction as if I’ve done something awful, which I have. But she follows it up with a grin. “Where’s your lady friend, Carolyn? You two are so gorgeous together.”
She’s fucking right, and I hate it. I shake my head, my lips curving upward just slightly. “Not here.”
Mrs. Hensley didn’t care much for the answer to her question because she’s already making her way over to the doorman. “Lovely,” she says, maybe to me, maybe to nobody. “Lovely.”
I step into the elevator and the doors slide closed, and once again, I have to stop myself from sagging against the walls.
Yes, accepting Eli’s invitation was the right thing. I’m going to have to accept even more invitations if I don’t want this apartment to become a gilded prison like the Four Seasons.
The nagging voice in the back of my mind whispers again. It’s always going to be a prison without Carolyn.
The elevator moves upward and I try to ignore the thought, but it repeats itself like a drumbeat until I want to press my hands against my ears, anything to make it stop.
It’ll take more than that to stop this.
It’ll take everything I have.
Chapter 41
Carolyn
I wake up the next morning with a head weighted down with the after effects of last night’s drinking and a dry mouth, tacky from all the sugary alcohol.
“Shit,” I say into my pillow.
What time is it?
What day is it?
It’s an effort just to reach for the phone on my bedside table.
It is eight o’clock on Wednesday morning, and I am a wreck.
Looking at my phone makes me dizzy, and I collapse back onto the pillow, the phone on my chest.
Jesus Christ. What did we do last night?
I remember drinks. I remember dancing. So much dancing….
And I remember my lips pressed against a man’s. Not Ace’s. Someone else’s.
I remember laughing hard because they were nothing, the kiss meant nothing, it felt like nothing compared to the electric connection I feel with Ace.
Like I’ll never feel again.
My stomach flips over, but I’m not convinced that it’s all from the copious amounts of alcohol I consumed last night.
Nothing makes you sicker than guilt.
Another wave of nausea washes over me, and I squeeze my eyes shut tight, willing it to go away.
There’s no way in hell I can sell anything at the boutique today. A woman who looks vaguely green and is unsteady on her feet will not a good saleswoman make. Especially not next to all the lovely clothes we’ve managed to restock since the theft.
I write out a text to Natalie—she’s the one who’s on this morning, I’m sure of it—telling her I won’t be in today or tomorrow. Then I follow it up with another text.
If you just want to close down the store and take a couple days off, that’s fine too.
I just don’t care.
I just don’t care about the store right now.
I care about Natalie, and Sara, and making sure they get a paycheck, but I can’t bring myself to do anything about it right now.
Maybe by Monday I’ll feel better.
With my phone on my chest, I drift back into a restless sleep. At one point, I think I hear a knock on the bedroom door and my heart leaps—Ace?—but when I jerk upright and listen, there’s nothing but ringing silence.
Shit.
It’s awful.
My phone vibrates in my lap, making me jump. It’s a text message.
I turn the screen to face up with shaking hands.
It’s from Jess.
Make yourself decent, woman. I’m coming over in forty minutes.
No….
Yes.
Really, I’m too hungover
No excuses. See you in 38!
Damn it.
I drop my face into my hands. If I get out of bed right now, I might be sick. If I wait any longer, I’ll never get up.
I put my legs over the side of the bed gingerly, taking several minutes to ease my toes to the carpet.
So far, so good.
It takes twenty minutes just to get into the shower and wash my hair, so I’m scrambling—albeit in slow motion—when there’s an actual knock on the door.
“Coming!” I shout and pull a Nike hoodie over my head. Yoga pants are all I’m going to be able to handle today.
I shuffle to the door and pull it open.
Jess stands in the hallway, looking like a queen, as usual. She must have cut herself off way earlier last night, or else she’s better at holding her liquor. Either way, she looks pristine whereas I look like a troll.
“Come on.” She jerks her head down the hall toward the elevator.
“No way. Look at me.”
“You look fine.”
“I look like shit.”
“We’re going out.”
I sigh. I don’t have the energy to fight her. “Fine.”
I grab my purse and follow her into the hall, locking the door on the first try, which is a damn miracle.
Ten minutes later, I’m seated at a deli down the block. Jess goes to the counter and returns with a tray, which she plops down on the table, then takes the seat opposite me.
“Eat.” She gestures toward the two breakfast sandwiches on my side of the tray. I have no interest in ingesting anything until I unwrap one of them and press my finger against the biscuits. They’re full of grease and bacon.
Nothing could be better in the entire wo
rld.
She lets me eat one of them while she eats the first one of hers, and then she folds both her hands on the table. “What happened with Ace?”
The question hits me like a sucker punch, and I struggle to swallow the last bite, staring down at the table.
She gives me three seconds, then follows it up. “Tell me the truth, Care.”
I take in a deep breath. “He—he found out what I do for a living.”
She shakes her head. “The boutique? That’s not a state secret.”
It takes everything I have to meet her eyes. “No.” How do I even admit this without sounding like a terrible person? “I run…I run a gossip website for the wealthiest people in New York. And I make a lot of money from it.”
Jess cocks her head, considering. “Like…a blog?”
“Like a forum. People post on it, and when the rumors seem…when they seem like they could really affect people’s lives, I either confirm or deny them.”
Jess’s eyes light up. “You’re a private investigator?”
I laugh bitterly. “No, but I hire them on occasion. I hired one to find out what Ace’s deal was.”
“Oh, shit.” Jess leans toward me. “And he found out?”
“Long story short, yeah. And he was pissed. Really pissed.” More tears come to my eyes when I think about it, and I wipe them away with a napkin, taking in another big, shuddering breath.
“You were really into him, weren’t you?” Jess’s voice is soft.
“I love him.” I can hardly choke out the words, but there it is. There’s the truth. “I just wanted to be—to be sure that he wasn’t what people were saying.”
“I heard something at the Swan. Murdering his wife?”
“He didn’t do it,” I say as I pick up the second breakfast sandwich and, putting it down, add, “It was a smear campaign by her father. But it’s been all over the website. I wanted to deny it so we could move on. And I could be sure.” The last word comes out pleading, like I’m begging for her to understand.
But I don’t have to beg her. She knows how things have been with the men in my life.
Jess picks up her second sandwich and unwraps it. “He could come around.”
“I don’t think he will.”
“Then he’s not good enough for you, Care.”
“That’s the thing. I’m not good enough for him.”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.” I can’t look at her. It matters so much.
“You want to be with him?”
“More than all of that. More than…more than anything.”
I look back at her to see her reaction. She gives a little shrug. “So maybe you should have told him. Maybe you went a little too far.” She looks right into my eyes. “If he loves you, he’ll put it behind him. There’s only one way to find out.”
Chapter 42
Ace
I’m so anxious to be out of my fucking apartment that I go down to the lobby fifteen minutes early, only to realize instantly that it’s a goddamn mistake to leave myself so exposed. Carolyn could show up at any minute, and then what?
It’s the billion-dollar question.
I haven’t been able to sleep since Tuesday. Not really. I toss and turn all fucking night, and when I do slip into a dream, it stars Carolyn. Sometimes I dream of turning my back on her. Sometimes I dream of fucking her. It all hurts just the same.
But I’m determined not to let this pin me down in the apartment and lose myself in shitty TV. I don’t know what makes me feel so damn certain of it, but….
It’s Carolyn, the voice in the back of my head says, with a tinge of sadness. You saw her resilience after the boutique was robbed. You saw her kindness even when it meant that she wouldn’t get to spend time with you. If she can keep moving forward, so can you.
I swallow hard and stare out the lobby windows to the street outside.
The moments crawl by, until at last I see Eli’s driver emerge from a town car at the curb. I shove open the door to the outside and take a deep breath of the crisp fall air. At least the darkness gives me some cover if she’s out here walking down the sidewalk or something.
I slide into the back next to Eli, who puts his hand out to shake it with a familiar grin. “What’s up?”
“Starving.”
“Let’s go.”
His driver shuts the door behind me and comes back around to the front of the car, and soon he’s guiding it smoothly into traffic. I should have brought Noah along so this guy can get some dinner, too. Uh—no. Where the hell is that coming from? It’s not on my agenda to do matchmaking for people’s personal assistants and drivers.
Ten minutes later, he lets us out in front of the Pearl, a club that I’ve been to more than once in the past. They have the best steaks in New York City. When we step out onto the sidewalk, I get a big whiff of perfectly seared steak and my stomach growls.
Which reminds me—I haven’t been eating well, either.
No surprises there.
Eli has reserved us a private booth near the back, which is fine with me. The fewer people I see, the better. I do want to ask him if he knows any available women, but I’m not going to take the chance of running into the next Carolyn by sitting right in the middle of what is still a very fine establishment.
The uniformed waiter flits by the table, pouring water, delivering drinks, and we chat about nothing at all until our plates are set before us.
My mouth waters.
There are two filets in front of me, prime beef and absurdly expensive. They’re exquisitely plated near mashed potatoes that are light as a cloud and seasonal vegetables dripping with butter.
This is going to be fucking amazing.
“Damn,” Eli says under his breath, and for several minutes there’s silence while we eat.
I’m just starting to feel like myself—a little less insane, a little less broken—when he swallows a bite of steak, sips from his water glass, and starts a new conversation entirely.
“So, what’s the story with you and Carolyn?”
Her name knocks the wind out of me.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you if you know anyone who’s available.” My voice is strained, tight, and Eli looks at me with one eyebrow arched.
“You and C are done with? I thought—you guys have left a couple times from the Swan, so I thought—”
“We’re over.” I give my voice an edge to warn him that this isn’t a good topic of conversation, but Eli Pierce doesn’t give a shit about that.
“What happened? Did you get tired of her?”
I stab my fork into the mashed potatoes and take another bite before I answer.
“Not really.”
Eli narrows his eyes. This guy isn’t going to back down.
“She…got a little too involved in my personal life.”
“How’s that?”
“By hiring a private investigator.”
Eli laughs out loud. “What?”
“She wanted to know more about some rumors that have been going around the city since I’ve been back.”
“That shit about you and your—” His grin disappears, and he presses his lips together. “You and your wife?”
I nod, just once.
“I’m sorry about that, man. I heard something, but you never know what’s true.”
“Well, Carolyn was profiting off it. Quite well, from what I understand.”
“Profiting?”
“Do you not know about the website she runs? Some gossip site?”
Eli looks at me blankly, then something dawns in his expression. “Oh, shit. No, she never said anything to me directly, but now that I think about it, there were…hints. I heard about it from a couple of other people, but I never put two and two together until just now.” He shakes his head. “That doesn’t seem like her.”
“Well, it is like her.”
He blows out a breath through his lips, then cuts off another bite of steak. “Must have to do with that D
rake guy. Back in college. And then there was the next one. Will? I can’t remember. Really screwed her over. Cheating. Pictures online. It was bad. She was—she was a mess.”
“And that explains a gossip site how?”
He takes in another deep breath. “Well, if I know Carolyn—and I do—she’s probably trying to make something good out of all the assholes that made her life miserable. I honestly think—” He takes a sip of his wine. “I honestly think you’re the first guy she’s dated in a while who hasn’t cheated on her.”
“Who would cheat on Carolyn Banks?”
“Exactly.”
There’s another silence, and the ice around my heart starts to chip and break. Maybe it was a kindness originally, but it must have gone wrong.
Can I blame her for that?
Can I forgive her?
“You sure it’s over?” Eli is poised with another bite of steak.
I look him right in the eye. “No.”
Chapter 43
Carolyn
Jess’s words ring in my ears on the way back to my apartment, and it’s not until I’m in the quiet that I can even begin to sort them out.
“There’s only one way to find out.”
She’s absolutely right.
The only way I’m going to know if Ace can put this behind him is to ask him. Basically, I’m going to have to grovel on my hands and knees and beg him to forgive me.
I can’t stop from rolling my eyes, even while my heart turns over. Maybe not quite on my hands and knees.
I still feel shell-shocked, and even after eating the breakfast sandwiches, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that my face is still monstrously pale.
But I know what I have to do.
Before I can approach Ace, I have to make sure that the rumors are out of my life forever. Otherwise, this scenario is bound to repeat itself until the end of eternity, and then what? I’ll be fabulously wealthy, but alone.
I’m going to have to call the tech team. They’re the ones who are going to be able to shut down the site, to wipe out its memory, to make sure the name is locked down forever so that nobody can resurrect it.
First, though, I need to sit down and watch a shitty rom-com on Netflix. After that gut-wrenching conversation with Jess, it’s all my mind can handle.
