The Dirty Series 2(105)

I scramble into my bra and panties, then slip the dress back up over my hips. I zip it to the best of my abilities, put my feet back in my shoes, and look around the bedroom one more time. My purse?

I dropped it somewhere near the elevator.

I’m almost out the door when Ace’s voice cuts through the silence. “Carolyn?”

“Yeah?”

His arms are crossed in front of his chest, shoulders rounded slightly to the front like he’s expecting a blow to the gut. His eyes are thunderclouds. His eyes are the center of a storm.

“We—” He raises a hand, gestures to the empty space between us. “We probably shouldn’t do this again.”

Are you kidding me? “No shit,” I say, acid in my tone, and turn on my heel and go.

My purse is right where I left it last night.

On the sidewalk in front of the Four Seasons, the doorman beckons a taxi over for me, and I slide into the back, choke out my address to the cabbie.

I don’t let a single tear fall on the way home.





Chapter Ten





Ace



I’m a complete prick, and I know it the moment I turn to see Carolyn’s face when she emerges from the bathroom, her hair wet, cheeks pink, a smile on her face. I’ve known it for a long time. I just didn’t think I would have to trot out my usual asshole tendencies to get rid of a woman this soon after arriving back in New York.

And, fuck, this is exactly why I didn’t want to get involved with anyone.

My life is a mess.

After what happened with Elisa….

The Italians didn’t publicize what happened after Elisa died. After the last time an American was accused of a heinous crime on Italian soil, it became an international fiasco. The officials I talked to wanted no part of that.

Carolyn’s not going to want any part of that either.

The news is going to come out sooner or later. I’ve attracted too much attention by even being in the city.

More than that, more than all of it, I just can’t take the risk.

It makes me fucking furious, the way my mind recoils from the thought of getting deeply involved with another woman, but I can’t deny it. Last night was unbelievable. Carolyn’s body fits to mine like we were made for each other from the start. Every movement she makes is exactly what I want, what I need, in that moment. There’s no way she’s not right for me.

Which means she’s absolutely, positively wrong for me.

The end game is always a sucker punch, and one more minute with her will mean I’m in over my head.

It’s not worth the inevitable gut-wrenching loss.

I’m short with her. And then, when she’s leaving, her face flaming red, shoulders tensed up toward her ears, I drive home the final blow.

“Carolyn?”

She turns back toward me, and there’s a glimmer of hope in her face.

So what do I do?

I crush it underneath my foot like one of the expensive baubles on the bookshelves.

“We—” Fuck. I don’t want to be saying this, but it’ll be better for her in the long run if I say it now and spare her the fallout. I wave my hand in the air between us, dismissing the intensity of what happened last night. “We probably shouldn’t do this again.”

Her chin quivers, just for a split second, and then her mouth curves downward into a semblance of a sneer that doesn’t quite convince me. “No shit.”

Then she turns and jams her thumb into the call button for the elevator. The doors slide open, and Carolyn Banks doesn’t look back as she steps inside and presses the button for the lobby, with delicate care this time. Her dark eyes are blazing, but she doesn’t meet my gaze. She doesn’t have to tell me to fuck off. It’s clear as day.

As soon as the doors hide her from view, I fucking lose it.

Silently, my fists clenched in front of my mouth, I double over.

What the fuck was I thinking, letting her get to me like that?

What am I, some kind of glutton for pain?

Is that really what I want out of life, loss after loss because I can’t resist a gorgeous woman at a dining club?

She’s not just any woman, the little voice in the back of my mind says, insistently, repeatedly, until I drown it out with another shitty movie that I watch but don’t see.

She’s not.

What happened between us last night wasn’t just a one-night stand, as much as I wanted it to be meaningless and casual. There’s no denying it.

So I won’t deny it.

But I will move on.

I have no other choice.

I dig my phone out of my pocket. I don’t know when I put on this pair of sweatpants—expensive as fuck and not worth the price—but I look like shit, I look like a mess.

I can’t go on like this.

Change of plans.

Noah responds like he’s been hovering over his phone, waiting for me to summon him. Probably he has. God knows I pay him enough.