The Dirty Series 2(123)

Of course, my father did pull some strings to put me in this temporary time-suck, so I’m not about to figuratively tell him to fuck off, even if Carolyn is the one woman in the world I want to spend all day in bed with. Possibly ever.

It’s a dangerous thought, but the majority of my mind doesn’t seem to care. The majority of my mind wants to toy with the possibilities, wants to spend every moment without her thinking about what she might be doing, daydreaming about being with her again, fantasizing about making her laugh…and making her do so much more.

She probably won’t answer. She’s probably working in that little boutique of hers—she hasn’t invited me to come see it yet, but I hunted around online until I found out where it was and walked by last week just to see where she spends her days—and if I know anything about Carolyn, it’s that she’ll single-mindedly focus on work until the work is done.

Just like she’s been focused on getting me out of the Swan and back to my apartment.

So far, we’re one of two success-wise. I want to erase that first disastrous night together from her memory completely, and I can only do that if every weekend from now on is a fucking stellar one.

I’m three doors down from the office when my father comes out of one of the presidents’ offices at high speed, looking over his shoulder to say one last thing.

“Oh, and Schell, don’t even think about—shit!”

I skid to a stop, my hand on his shoulder, just in time to keep from running him down.

“Son!” he says, laughing, and claps his hand against my shoulder. “Where the hell are you going at such a high speed? Don’t tell me you’ve discovered a passion for advising.”

“Maybe I have,” I say, sticking my hands into my pockets. “Sorry about that.”

My father looks just like me, only he’s twenty-five years older and a silver fox. His smile is as genuine as they come. At least he doesn’t think I’m a killer. Although it’s possible he hasn’t heard anything out of Italy either. If his board members haven’t brought it up, he likely doesn’t care. My father’s business is his life. I rank pretty high up there, but the main thing is that I don’t hurt the business. I don’t resent him for that, but my throat tightens. I hope this shit somehow stays in Italy. I hope it doesn’t get to New York. I don’t want to put that on his plate.

It’s not true, of course. Only one thing about that situation is true. But I would feel like shit if it damaged his enterprise in any way. Me? I can recover. My investments are rock solid. But he’s been known to take a risk with the stock market here and there, and….

I open my mouth to say something, but there’s nothing I can say right now—not coherently, at least. My marriage to Elisa wasn’t a family celebration. It was more a matter of necessity, and now that she’s gone, I don’t want to give my father the punch to the gut of knowing that he wasn’t at my wedding, even if it was just a—

He throws his arm around my shoulders and turns me back in the direction I came from. “Let’s get the hell out of here, son,” he says jovially.

“Wait—what? I don’t have—” I don’t have anything, aside from my wallet. My phone is locked in my desk. I want to send Carolyn a message so badly I can practically feel it underneath my fingers.

“Your phone? Leave it! We’re going to lunch.”

“I scheduled a meeting for—”

He waves his hand in the air. “It can wait another twenty minutes. I’m taking my son out to lunch, and we’re going to have a goddamn conversation. No phones. Let’s go!”

“All right,” I say, plastering a smile on my face.

“What?” my father says, leaning in, grinning. “You in love with a girl, is that it? Can’t wait another hour to talk to her?”

My mouth drops open as his words sink in.

“No,” I choke out, finally.

It’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told, because now that my father has said it—even if he was only kidding—I have no choice but to accept it.

I’ve fallen for Carolyn Banks.





Chapter Twenty-Five





Carolyn



I have never been so damn conflicted in my entire life.

There are multiple forces pulling me in every direction, the least of them all is the boutique.

I take one day off and foot traffic skyrockets. No idea why, but the first thing I do when I get in on Tuesday morning is have Natalie and Sarah overhaul the displays in the front window to show off some of our newest arrivals. There’s a surge in customers around the lunch hour, and I stay on the floor to help move product.