The Dirty Series 2(95)

She looks absolutely fabulous, her auburn hair piled on top of her head in a bun that’s somehow messy and perfectly styled at the same time, and she’s wearing a navy sheath dress that sets off the jade color of her eyes. She was always the more rough-and-tumble one in our friend group, but damn—a year as a princess, or queen, or whatever she is—has been good to her. And motherhood doesn’t seem to have slowed her down. At all.

Jess spins around, her purse strap slung slickly over her shoulder, and then she spreads her arms out wide in anticipation of a hug. “I had to come see my former roomie’s new boutique!”

I quickly hurry around the table, my grin spreading from ear to ear, my arms stretched out for a hug. “What do you think? Are you a boutique person now?”

Jess hugs me, and then she turns to assess my selection and wrinkles her nose a bit. “I’ll be honest—my clothes are usually brought to me. I don’t go to them.” Then she bursts out laughing. “It’s cute, Carrie!”

“Well,” I say, moving sinuously over to one of the racks and running my hand seductively down a dress, “is there anything I can…help you find?”

Jess laughs so hard tears spring to her eyes. “This is a far cry from when you’d just pull some things out of your closet for me to wear. Those were the days.”

“They really were.”

“Actually, though…there’s a thing you should come to.”

“A thing?”

“At the Swan. Tonight.” Jess’s eyes sparkle at the thought of it. “We’re in town for a couple of weeks, and Alec wanted to throw a party for all of my friends—our friends—to kick it off. The Swan was perfect for us security-wise.”

For the first time, I notice the hulking, suited men, their feet planted, standing outside the front window of the boutique. My own security is far more discreet. “You’re big-time.”

“I’m royalty, darling.” Jessica pats the side of my face, then dissolves into laughter again. I laugh along with her, but there’s a curious ache in my chest.

“Well, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Especially since my only other plans for the day were going home to my empty apartment, ordering takeout, and losing myself in Rainflower Blue, like the spinster I am.

“I knew you wouldn’t.” Jessica breezes past me, throws her purse onto the counter, and then turns around, eyes flying over the meticulously arranged racks. Then she’s scanning my outfit. It’s a black ensemble, high-quality but nothing flashy. Jess looks down at her watch.

“Quick, Carrie. We don’t have time to waste, and we both need to look way better than we do right now. The Swan awaits!”

She’s right. And you can’t deal in rumors unless you’re right in the epicenter.





Chapter Two





Ace



The sidewalk in front of my building on the Upper East Side is swarming with reporters.

Honest to God reporters, with telephoto lenses and phones clipped to their belts, squinting down at the LCD screens on the back of top-of-the-line equipment. Or maybe the fucking paparazzi, although they’re not hiding in the bushes or lurking around pretending not to be watching for me.

“Who the hell do they work for?”

My driver, Noah, who also heads up my security team, shrugs. “Can’t be the newspapers.”

“No chance of that.”

The photographers mill around on the sidewalk for another five minutes.

Noah shifts in his seat. “What’s your call, boss?” He says it with a half grin on his face. Noah’s been a friend since before I went to Exeter. When I came back to New York after college, he was rising through the ranks at one of the top security firms in the city. With our current arrangement, there’s no firm taking a cut, and he’s never once complained about the extra money.

“I’m not dealing with that.”

He doesn’t wait for more instructions, just shifts the Bentley into drive and pulls away from the curb, back into the evening traffic.

The air conditioning has the interior of the car at the perfect temperature, but I’m overheating in my suit. I tug at the collar of my shirt and then loosen my tie. I’ve been traveling all goddamn day, and all I want is to be back in my penthouse.

Of course, the vultures have already swarmed.

I never had this kind of problem before Elisa.

The thought of her has my stomach tied up in knots, the air dry and scorching when I take in a breath. My hands clench into fists against my pant legs.

Fuck this.

I press one fist against the pain in my chest and clench my jaw, letting it crush me, roll me over, until it releases me for another hour.