The Dirty Series 2(138)

Carolyn’s mouth opens, like she wants to interrupt, to ask a question, but she closes it again. Wise.

“She was the daughter of a man who led one of Italy’s biggest crime rings. He did most of his work underground, and he wanted her to have a clean source of money. So he sent her to seduce me. And she did.”

Carolyn shakes her head, her shoulders slumping.

“Except it turned into the real thing. We had real feelings for each other. So I started planning to get us out of Italy. That bastard had people everywhere. Still does. So it wasn’t going to be fucking simple, even though I had more than enough money to pay for a private flight out.”

My jaw tightens. “It didn’t matter. Before we could leave, she got diagnosed with aggressive brain cancer. It only took her six weeks to die.”

Carolyn gasps, then covers her mouth with her hands, tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

“You can imagine that her mob boss father wasn’t pleased with that, and in his grief, he got the Italian authorities involved. He ran a smear campaign against me, trying to get me tagged for murder—even though it was clear she’d died from cancer—and everything went to hell.”

I look at her until she’s looking me straight in the eye. “I came back to New York because I knew I’d never be able to get out from under his thumb in Italy. Not unless I wanted to be wrapped up in the process for the rest of my life. Who was going to trust me, anyway? I was married to the daughter of a wanted criminal.”

“Ace, I—”

“That’s what happened. You still think I’m a fucking murderer, go ahead and think that. I can’t change your mind.”

“I don’t think you’re a murderer. I just—I just wanted to know the truth.” Her voice is on the verge of pleading, and for a split second I consider going over to her, taking her face in my hands, and kissing her until all this is in the distant past.

But my fury rages.

I can’t do it.

“Then you should have asked me,” he snarls.

“It seemed more complicated than that.”

“You know what?” I say, and her eyes widen a little. Is that a flicker of hope that I see there? Fuck that. “You’re just like all the other gossip-hungry bitches in New York City.” I can feel my mouth curling into another sneer, and I force it to stop because it’s an ugly expression to wear, and I don’t want anyone, ever again, to have the satisfaction of causing it. “You’re just as bad as the rest of them. This was another set-up, wasn’t it? You just wanted up-close-and-personal content for your little website.”

She shakes her head harder, emphatically. “No. That’s not what I wanted. I didn’t—I heard about you coming back to New York, but I didn’t know about any of the other rumors until later.” She takes in a shuddering breath. “I always thought you were cute in high school. You caught my eye. I just wanted to be sure that—”

“I would be in jail right now if I’d killed my wife!”

She presses her lips together, her chin quivering.

“You are just as bad as all the rest.” I head for the door, going past her on the way out, leaning the other way so I don’t touch her.

I turn back once I’ve opened the door, gesturing to the air between us. “This is over.”

Then I’m gone.





Chapter Thirty-Seven





Carolyn



The moment the door closes behind Ace, I sink to the carpet, sitting down heavily when my knees won’t hold me up any longer.

It’s just like that first night we spent together, except this time the cold look on his face was laced with pain and anger and betrayal.

Because of what I did.

It’s all my fault, and I had no business at all prying into his life like that.

Was it worth it, Carolyn? I think sharply as the tears fall hot onto my open palms.

No, the answer comes back, too little and too late.

I weep on the carpet by my doorway for exactly five minutes before I force myself to stand up and walk back into the apartment, trying my damnedest to swallow the painful lump in my throat.

My hands are trembling so badly I can barely swipe the screen on my phone, and it takes three deep breaths before I can collect myself enough to unlock it. But once I do, I have no idea who to text, who to call. All I have is my stupid fucking website, which has made me an obscene amount of money and ruined my life.

Isn’t that always how it goes?

Finally it comes to me. Jessica. Jess is still in town, and she’ll want to go out before they head back to Saintland and she has to resume her queenly duties. At least, I hope she will, because if not, I’ll bury my head into my comforter and never emerge again.