The Dirty Series 2(73)

“Yeah,” she says, after she swallows another bite, sips more from her wine. “What we’re going to do in bed later.”

That sly vixen.

It’s not until the next day that I realize she never told me what was up with Adam.





Chapter Thirty-Three





Angelica



Time is running out.

It’s been running out for me since the beginning—there’s no way I was ever going to get out of this without some kind of consequence, whether it’s from Charlie or Jett, but with Jett so curious about Adam, the writing is on the wall. In big, bold letters.

My heart races every time I think about confessing the words to Jett. My heart races every time I think of Charlie’s words to me, about my mother and brother.

Just because he hasn’t done anything yet doesn’t mean he won’t...especially if I slip up now.

There’s one thing left that I want to do before all of this comes crashing down on me.

I want to show Jett where I came from.

Not Michigan, of course—I’ll probably never get the chance to take him there—but to where I first lived in New York City.

Maybe it’s selfish, maybe it’s conniving, but I’m hoping that once he sees how hard I’ve worked to get to where I am—how much of nothing I had when I came here, aside from a college degree and a mountain of debt—he’ll be able to see that I’ve always done everything I can to pull myself up by my bootstraps, and my brother along with me.

He’ll be able to see that I’m not after his money, that I didn’t do this to hurt him.

Or maybe it will backfire horribly. Maybe he’ll see me for who I am: the poor girl clinging on to life in a rich city by the skin of her teeth.

Only one way to find out.

On Friday afternoon, when the Town Car glides to a stop beside the curb in front of the Sisterspark building, I seize my opportunity.

“Hey, Stuart,” I say before he can open the door and let me in. “Would you mind taking a little detour before we go back to the penthouse today? There’s a place I want to show Jett.”

Stuart grins at me, eyes twinkling. “Where’s it at, Miss Chandler?”

“Angelica,” I correct him automatically, then give him the address in Washington Heights.

He whistles through his teeth. “That’s a ride.”

“I know. If he complains, we can turn around.” I give Stuart a wink, and he winks back, then pulls open the door.

Jett leans in for a kiss, phone in one hand. “Let me finish up this email, okay?”

“No problem.” I get my own phone out as Stuart steers the car back into traffic. Jett taps away at his phone for a minute, then slides it into his pocket and moves closer, wrapping his arm around me.

“So,” I say, my pulse picking up speed. “Do you mind if we—”

I’m interrupted by the buzz of Jett’s phone in his pocket, and his hand goes toward it like he’s being compelled by some stronger force. “Just a second, sweet thing,” he says, kissing me on the temple and then swiping across the screen to answer the call.

“Jett Brandon.”

I can hear a male voice on the other end of the line, but not much else.

“That’s not the news I was expecting,” he says, and my throat tightens up. “In person would be best. I agree.” There’s another pause. “I can be there in twenty minutes.”

My heart sinks.

Jett ends the call but keeps his phone in his hand. “Stuart, change of plans. We need to make a stop at Cook’s office.”

I keep my expression neutral.

“That was my accountant,” Jett says to me. “He’s got some news about the situation with my accounts. I’d drop you off at the penthouse first, but....”

“It’s no problem,” I say quickly, kissing his jawline. I linger a moment with my face close to his skin, breathing in the clean, spicy scent of him.

This is about to be over, and I’m not ready.

I silently thank the accountant for not giving him all the details over the phone. Once he knows what’s been happening with his bank accounts—and even I’m not sure the extent of it—there’s no way he’ll be able to gloss over the fact that all of this started just after my arrival.

We pull up in front of a three-story brick building twenty minutes later, and Jett taps his foot against the floor of the car while he waits for Stuart to come around and open the door.

When he does, Jett steps out onto the sidewalk and starts to move toward the building. Stuart hesitates, his hand on the handle.

I stay seated, frozen in place.

Jett glances to his side, then seems to realize I’m not with him. He rushes back to the car, sticks his head inside.