My heart is a gaping wound in my chest, and every breath is agony, but it’s not long before I lose myself in the beat, following Jess’s lead.
“More drinks!” she cries after a few minutes and disappears to the bar, leaving me in the swirling mass of bodies on the dance floor.
I don’t care.
What’s to care about?
The most important thing in my life is over, so I might as well dance.
I throw myself into it, happily accepting the shot she brings and throwing it back. She’s gone for another moment, putting the shot glasses somewhere, I assume, and then we’re drunk and dancing.
The men start to circle not long after, and I find myself with my hands on their shoulders, my hands sliding down abs that don’t hold a candle to Ace’s. The hours melt away in a blur of music and dancing and drinks presented to me by handsome stranger after handsome stranger. At one point I find myself with my mouth pressed against another man’s and laughing, laughing while I do it.
Because it’s not Ace.
It’s not as good as Ace, and nobody ever will be.
Ever, ever, ever.
Chapter Forty
Ace
Wednesday I go through the motions at my father’s office like a robot, unable to force a smile onto my face. Nobody notices. Or, if they do, they don’t say anything because I’m the boss’s son.
That’s one perk to being filthy rich and related to the man in charge. Nobody questions it if you’re suddenly a numb, soulless husk of a person, just going through the motions.
I want this to be over.
I want this drowning, suffering feeling to end so I can move on with my life.
Move on to what?
I don’t know.
I don’t know what’s worth it.
I’ll always have enough money to do whatever I please. I made sure of that long ago, and I assure myself of that every day when I check my investments, make small adjustments, put money here, transfer money there.
That’s not going to be an issue.
But when it comes to women….
Is it worth it?
Carolyn’s face floats up in front of my mind a hundred times throughout the day, and each time it takes my breath away.
I haven’t heard from her since yesterday. I don’t want to hear from her.
That’s not true.
I want to hear from her more than anything, but I’ll be damned if I let myself get sucked back in with her.
I won’t.
I leave the office at five o’clock and walk out without saying anything to anyone. People duck into offices to stay out of my way, which I consider a silver lining. It’s not like I’ve necessarily been rude. I haven’t been anything at all. They must sense that the time isn’t right to have an encounter with Ace Kingsley.
As I slide into the backseat of the Bentley, my phone buzzes, and I automatically swipe across the front to see who the message is from.
Too late, I realize that I’m half-hoping it’s from Carolyn.
I roll my eyes at my own fucking stupidity.
The message is from Eli Pierce.
My first instinct is to ignore it.
You free tomorrow?
Depends.
On what?
Where you’re going
I take it the Swan is out?
He’s very perceptive.
Not in the mood.
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?