The Complete Bad Boy Billionaire Boxed Set

by Amelia Wilde

  “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 world.

  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 Forty-Two

  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 Drake 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 Forty-Three

  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.

  I spend Thursday parked on the couch with my laptop, sorting through all the things I’ll need to do before I can erase Rainflower Blue from the Internet. Ace is on my mind with every single breath, and it doesn’t help that all the most popular threads have to do with him. And me. And the so-called murder that he never committed.

  I finally work up the courage to look through the packet from Aida.

  My heart aches when I read it.

  It’s information regarding Elisa’s death. No sign of foul play whatsoever, just a painful end brought on by cancer. Aida has included several items, including a police report that seems to have been filed by Elisa’s father, which accuses Ace of abusing her. The evidence, Aida says in a note, is completely falsified.

  He’s an innocent man, and every second that the website is live, people who probably claim to be his friends are tearing him to pieces, speculating on when he’ll be arrested and tried in the United States’ courts.

  I set up a meeting with the tech team, followed by one with my financial manager, for Friday morning, when I can be sure that I’ll have their undivided attention.

  I’ve owned the site long enough to know that there are things I can do from my own computer to shut it down, but not as completely as I might like…and though I spend several hours with my mouse hovered over the button to discontinue database operations, I can’t bring myself to click it.

  I’m so fucking torn.

  I can’t take it anymore and flip the laptop’s cover closed, then snatch my phone from the couch beside me, my heart in my throat.

  I wait for it to calm down before I tap out a text to Jess.

  I thought about what you said.

  Yeah? :)

  I’m going to shut down the site

  That’s probably for the best

  Yeah. But I just can’t do it

  Why not?

  Shouldn’t I prove his innocence first?

  There’s a long pause.

  Care! Don’t be insane. Nothing you post on that site is going to prove anything to those people. It’s way past that point. All you’re going to do is put personal information they don’t need in front of their ravenous faces. Trust me. Just let it go

  My face goes pink.

  I’ve really helped other people before, though

  I’m sure you have. But I don’t think this is that kind of scenario. Let me guess—you told people if their husbands were visiting hotels without them?

  Yeah, that kind of thing

  I know your heart is in the right place, Care, but Ace doesn’t need you to protect him from rumors. They’ll fade away on their own.

  Another pause, another text.

  I really feel like you should focus on proving to him that what you want is him, not to profit from the fact that he’s a person of interest in New York’s hottest scandal. Of course we both know this isn’t a real scandal….

  You’re right.

  She’s absolutely right, and I’ve been an idiot.

  Ace Kingsley is the kind of man who can fend for himself. That’s one of the things I like best about him—that he does what he needs to do for himself.

  He’s strength in the face of ridiculous rumors, a wife who died, an Italian crime boss who tried and failed to put him behind bars.

  And damn it if I’m going to lose him over this stupid website.

  I pull the laptop back onto my lap and log in.

  There’s housekeeping I need to do before I pull the trigger on this.

  I’m going to shut down Rainflower Blue at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, come hell or high water, and I’m never going to look back.

  I’m only going to look forward.

  The next decision comes to me in a flash of inspiration.

  Even if Ace doesn’t want to have anything to do with me, I need to make a plan.

  I need to get out of New York City.

  I’ve been here for too long, submerged in the endless river of rumors that flows along the streets, and I need to start over somewhere new. It won’t be enough to simply shut down the website.

  I’ll set up something with the realtor as soon as I can formulate this note to my subscribers and figure out just how much cash I’ll need for refunds for the rest of this month’s subscription fees.

  My heart beats faster in my chest. Starting over somewhere new. Somewhere new, Ace by my side….

  …or not.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Ace

  No.

  No, I’m not fucking sure that it’s over.

  In fact, I’m not sure I did the right thing by walking out on Carolyn at all.

  She didn’t have a real chance to explain herself, and after the conversation with Eli, I’m beginning to think this entire venture grew out of a real desire to do something for the good of other people. I�
�ve seen the way she treats her employees at the boutique. I’ve seen the way she treats her neighbors.

  Can I blame her for making a profit off of it?

  My own father has admitted to making a few shady investments early on in his career.

  Nobody is fucking spotless.

  And the truth is, Carolyn fits me.

  Body and soul, as goddamn pathetic as that sounds.

  I cannot lose her over this.

  The thought is so powerful it feels like I’m having a heart attack.

  I can’t.

  I absolutely cannot lose her over some stupid website.

  Who the fuck cares if all of New York is talking about me? I certainly haven’t been any worse off for it. Elisa’s father doesn’t have the reach to torture me in New York, which was my main concern when I left Italy. If he wanted to make my life miserable, he’d have done it by now.

  I’m free of that.

  And if Carolyn made some extra money by hosting a website, who the hell am I to judge her?

  I have to find her.

  I stand up from behind my desk so abruptly that I crash into the keyboard tray, then reflexively shove it back under the desk. It sticks and I have to jam it in.

  “Damn it.”

  My secretary, Cecily, whom I share with several of the others in this unit, pokes her head in the door. “Mr. Kingsley? Is everything all right?”

  “I don’t have time to send an email.”

  Her forehead wrinkles. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kingsley, I—”

  I run a hand through my hair. “I’m not going to be in for the rest of the afternoon. Or the morning.” I want to be decisive, striding out of here with a fucking purpose, and I’m losing my damn mind over the possibility that it’s already too late.

  I have to get to her now.

  “Mr. Kingsley? What can I do for you?”

  Even Cecily seems to think I’m cracking up. Maybe I am.