Dirty Scandal

by Amelia Wilde

  “I don’t think he will.”

  “Then he’s not good enough for you, Care.”

  “That’s the thing. I’m not good enough for him.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes.” I can’t look at her. It matters so much.

  “You want to be with him?”

  “More than all of that. More than…more than anything.”

  I look back at her to see her reaction. She gives a little shrug. “So maybe you should have told him. Maybe you went a little too far.” She looks right into my eyes. “If he loves you, he’ll put it behind him. There’s only one way to find out.”

  42

  Ace

  I’m so anxious to be out of my apartment that I go down to the lobby fifteen minutes early, only to realize instantly that it’s a mistake to leave myself so exposed. Carolyn could show up at any minute, and then what?

  It’s the billion-dollar question.

  I haven’t been able to sleep since Tuesday. I toss and turn all night, and when I do slip into a dream, it stars Carolyn. Sometimes I dream of turning my back on her. Sometimes I dream of fucking her. It all hurts the same.

  But I’m determined not to let this pin me down in the apartment and lose myself in reality TV. I don’t know what makes me feel so certain of it, but….

  It’s Carolyn, the voice in the back of my head says, with a tinge of sadness. You saw her resilience after the boutique was robbed. You saw her kindness even when it meant that she wouldn’t get to spend time with you. If she can keep moving forward, so can you.

  I swallow hard and stare out the lobby windows to the street outside.

  The moments crawl by, until at last I see Eli’s driver emerge from a town car at the curb. I shove open the door to the outside and take a deep breath of the crisp fall air. At least the darkness gives me some cover if she’s out here walking down the sidewalk or something.

  I slide into the back next to Eli, who puts his hand out to shake it with a familiar grin. “What’s up?”

  “Starving.”

  “Let’s go.”

  His driver shuts the door behind me and comes back around to the front of the car, and soon he’s guiding it smoothly into traffic. I should have brought Noah along so this guy can get some dinner, too. Uh—no. Where the hell is that coming from? It’s not on my agenda to do matchmaking for people’s personal assistants and drivers.

  Ten minutes later, he lets us out in front of the Pearl, a club that I’ve been to more than once in the past. They have the best steaks in New York City. When we step out onto the sidewalk, I get a big whiff of perfectly seared steak and my stomach growls.

  Which reminds me—I haven’t been eating well, either.

  No surprises there.

  Eli has reserved us a private booth near the back, which is fine with me. The fewer people I see, the better. I do want to ask him if he knows any available women, but I’m not going to take the chance of running into the next Carolyn by sitting right in the middle of what is still a very fine establishment.

  The uniformed waiter flits by the table, pouring water, delivering drinks, and we chat about nothing at all until our plates are set before us.

  My mouth waters.

  There are two filets in front of me, prime beef and absurdly expensive. They’re exquisitely plated near mashed potatoes that are light as a cloud and seasonal vegetables dripping with butter.

  This is going to be amazing.

  “Damn,” Eli says under his breath, and for several minutes there’s silence while we eat.

  I’m starting to feel like myself—a little less insane, a little less broken—when he swallows a bite of steak, sips from his water glass, and starts a new conversation entirely.

  “So, what’s the story with you and Carolyn?”

  Her name knocks the wind out of me.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you if you know anyone who’s available.” My voice is strained, tight, and Eli looks at me with one eyebrow arched.

  “You and C are done with? I thought—you guys have left a couple times from the Swan, so I thought—”

  “We’re over.” I give my voice an edge to warn him that this isn’t a good topic of conversation, but Eli Pierce doesn’t care about that.

  “What happened? Did you get tired of her?”

  I stab my fork into the mashed potatoes and take another bite before I answer.

  “Not really.”

  Eli narrows his eyes. This guy isn’t going to back down.

  “She…got a little too involved in my personal life.”

  “How’s that?”

  “By hiring a private investigator.”

  Eli laughs out loud. “What?”

  “She wanted to know more about some rumors that have been going around the city since I’ve been back.”

  “That stuff about you and your—” His grin disappears, and he presses his lips together. “You and your wife?”

  I nod.

  “I’m sorry about that, man. I heard something, but you never know what’s true.”

  “Well, Carolyn was profiting off it. Quite well, from what I understand.”

  “Profiting?”

  “Do you not know about the website she runs? Some gossip site?”

  Eli looks at me blankly, then something dawns in his expression. “No, she never said anything to me directly, but now that I think about it, there were…hints. I heard about it from a couple of other people, but I never put two and two together until now.” He shakes his head. “That doesn’t seem like her.”

  “Well, it is like her.”

  He blows out a breath through his lips, then cuts off another bite of steak. “Must have to do with that Drake guy. Back in college. And then there was the next one. Will? I can’t remember. Screwed her over. Cheating. Pictures online. It was bad. She was—she was a mess.”

  “And that explains a gossip site how?”

  He takes in another deep breath. “Well, if I know Carolyn—and I do—she’s probably trying to make something good out of all the assholes that made her life miserable. I honestly think—” He takes a sip of his wine. “I honestly think you’re the first guy she’s dated in a while who hasn’t cheated on her.”

  “Who would cheat on Carolyn Banks?”

  “Exactly.”

  There’s another silence, and the ice around my heart starts to chip and break. Maybe it was a kindness originally, but it must have gone wrong.

  Can I blame her for that?

  Can I forgive her?

  “You sure it’s over?” Eli is poised with another bite of steak.

  I look him right in the eye. “No.”

  43

  Carolyn

  Jess’s words ring in my ears on the way back to my apartment, and it’s not until I’m in the quiet that I can even begin to sort them out.

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  She’s right.

  The only way I’m going to know if Ace can put this behind him is to ask him. To grovel on my hands and knees and beg him to forgive me.

  I can’t stop from rolling my eyes, even while my heart turns over. Maybe not quite on my hands and knees.

  I still feel shell-shocked, and even after eating the breakfast sandwiches, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that my face is still monstrously pale.

  But I know what I have to do.

  Before I can approach Ace, I need to make sure that the rumors are out of my life forever. Otherwise, this scenario is bound to repeat itself until the end of eternity, and then what? I’ll be fabulously wealthy, but alone.

  I’m going to have to call the tech team. They’re the ones who are going to be able to shut down the site, to wipe out its memory, to make sure the name is locked down forever so that nobody can resurrect it.

  First, though, I need to sit down and watch a bad rom-com on Netflix. After that gut-wrenching conversation with Jess, it’s all my mind can handle.

  I spend Thursday parked on the c
ouch with my laptop, sorting through all the things I’ll need to do before I can erase Rainflower Blue from the Internet. Ace is on my mind with every single breath, and it doesn’t help that all the most popular threads are about him. And me. And the so-called murder that he never committed.

  I finally work up the courage to look through the packet from Aida.

  My heart aches when I read it.

  It’s information regarding Elisa’s death. No sign of foul play whatsoever, only a painful end brought on by cancer. Aida has included several items, including a police report that seems to have been filed by Elisa’s father, which accuses Ace of abusing her. The evidence, Aida says in a note, is completely falsified.

  He’s an innocent man, and every second that the website is live, people who probably claim to be his friends are tearing him to pieces, speculating on when he’ll be arrested and tried in the United States’ courts.

  I set up a meeting with the tech team, followed by one with my financial manager, for Friday morning, when I can be sure that I’ll have their undivided attention.

  I’ve owned the site long enough to know that there are things I can do from my own computer to shut it down, but not as completely as I might like…and though I spend several hours with my mouse hovered over the button to discontinue database operations, I can’t bring myself to click it.

  I’m so torn.

  I can’t take it anymore and flip the laptop’s cover closed, then snatch my phone from the couch beside me, my heart in my throat.

  I wait for it to calm down before I tap out a text to Jess.

  I thought about what you said.

  Yeah? :)

  I’m going to shut down the site

  That’s probably for the best

  Yeah. But I can’t do it

  Why not?

  Shouldn’t I prove his innocence first?

  There’s a long pause.

  Care! Don’t be insane. Nothing you post on that site is going to prove anything to those people. It’s way past that point. All you’re going to do is put personal information they don’t need in front of their ravenous faces. Trust me. Let it go

  My face goes pink.

  I’ve helped other people before, though

  I’m sure you have. But I don’t think this is that kind of scenario. Let me guess—you told people if their husbands were visiting hotels without them?

  Yeah, that kind of thing

  I know your heart is in the right place, Care, but Ace doesn’t need you to protect him from rumors. They’ll fade away on their own.

  Another pause, another text.

  I feel like you should focus on proving to him that what you want is him, not to profit from the fact that he’s a person of interest in New York’s hottest scandal. Of course we both know this isn’t a real scandal….

  You’re right.

  She’s absolutely right, and I’ve been an idiot.

  Ace Kingsley is the kind of man who can fend for himself. That’s one of the things I like best about him—that he does what he needs to do for himself.

  He’s strength in the face of ridiculous rumors, a wife who died, an Italian crime boss who tried and failed to put him behind bars.

  I’m not going to lose him over this stupid website.

  I pull the laptop back onto my lap and log in.

  There’s housekeeping I need to do before I pull the trigger on this.

  I’m going to shut down Rainflower Blue at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, come hell or high water, and I’m never going to look back.

  I’m only going to look forward.

  The next decision comes to me in a flash of inspiration.

  Even if Ace doesn’t want to have anything to do with me, I need to make a plan.

  I need to get out of New York City.

  I’ve been here for too long, submerged in the endless river of rumors that flows along the streets, and I need to start over somewhere new. It won’t be enough to simply shut down the website.

  I’ll set up something with the realtor as soon as I can formulate this note to my subscribers and figure out how much cash I’ll need for refunds for the rest of this month’s subscription fees.

  My heart beats faster in my chest. Starting over somewhere new. Somewhere new, Ace by my side….

  …or not.

  44

  Ace

  No.

  No, I’m not sure that it’s over.

  In fact, I’m not sure I did the right thing by walking out on Carolyn at all.

  She didn’t have a real chance to explain herself, and after the conversation with Eli, I’m beginning to think this entire venture grew out of a real desire to do something for the good of other people. I’ve seen the way she treats her employees at the boutique. I’ve seen the way she treats her neighbors.

  Can I blame her for making a profit?

  My own father has admitted to making a few shady investments early on in his career.

  Nobody is spotless.

  And the truth is, Carolyn fits me.

  Body and soul, as pathetic as that sounds.

  I cannot lose her over this.

  The thought is so powerful it feels like I’m having a heart attack.

  I can’t.

  I absolutely cannot lose her over some stupid website.

  Who cares if all of New York is talking about me? I certainly haven’t been any worse off for it. Elisa’s father doesn’t have the reach to torture me in New York, which was my main concern when I left Italy. If he wanted to make my life miserable, he’d have done it by now.

  I’m free of that.

  And if Carolyn made some extra money by hosting a website, who the hell am I to judge her?

  Where is she? Right now, where is she?

  I stand up from behind my desk so abruptly that I crash into the keyboard tray, then reflexively shove it back under the desk. It sticks and I jam it in with force.

  “Damn it.”

  My secretary, Cecily, whom I share with several of the others in this unit, pokes her head in the door. “Mr. Kingsley? Is everything all right?”

  “I don’t have time to send an email.”

  Her forehead wrinkles. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kingsley, I—”

  I run a hand through my hair. “I’m not going to be in for the rest of the afternoon. Or the morning.” I want to be decisive, striding out of here with a purpose, and I’m losing my mind over the possibility that it’s already too late.

  I need to be with her.

  “Mr. Kingsley? What can I do for you?”

  Even Cecily seems to think I’m cracking up. Maybe I am.

  “I need you to cancel the meetings. Any meetings that I have today. Reschedule them for next week. All of my commitments are in the calendar. And I’m going to need an away message.”

  “Of course, Mr. Kingsley. Is there anything else?”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  She nods, stepping back out into the hall.

  I take my phone off the surface of the desk and send a hasty text to Noah, who responds with his characteristic On the way, boss. The car will be at the curb when I get downstairs.

  “Mr. Kingsley?” Cecily is back at the door, rapping gently at the doorframe.

  “Yes?”

  She has a little smile on her face, and it makes me wonder how much the secretaries here know.

  “Whatever you’re doing…good luck.”

  I’m sure as hell going to need it.

  Noah shuts the door behind me after I slide into the backseat of the Bentley, scrolling through my phone even though all I can think of to do is text Carolyn.

  And I don’t want to text her.

  Even in my most desperate hour, I don’t want to start with a pathetic text message begging her for her current location so I can throw myself at her feet.

  Not literally.

  Maybe literally, if that’s what it takes.

  Noah pulls his own door shut behind him and turns around, throwing his arm over
the back of the seat.

  “Where to, boss?”

  “Boss,” I say, under my breath. “How many times—” It doesn’t matter at all. Noah grins at me, eyes shining. I’m not in the habit of leaving in the middle of the workday, and he knows it.

  “Who are we looking for, boss?” I can tell he’s trying to stifle a laugh, so I look at him with narrowed eyes.

  “How do you know we’re looking for someone?”

  “You’ve been staring out the window all week, mooning about Carolyn. Any idiot can tell you miss the hell out of her. So where is she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You know.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Text her, then.”

  “No.”

  Noah rolls his eyes in an exaggerated fashion, then gives me a look that I would never tolerate if he weren’t such a close friend.

  “Fine. Where do you think she might be?”

  It’s hard to think straight because I’m so wrapped up in my next steps.

  “She’s probably at the boutique.”

  “That store she owns? Couple blocks away?”

  “How do you know that?”

  Another look.

  Noah turns around and peers into the sideview mirror, then steers the car back into traffic.

  “Wait.”

  “I’m taking you to that store, boss. If you sulk for another week I’m going to lose my mind, and so is everyone else.”

  “There’s something else I need to do first.”

  The idea comes to me in a painful flash, but it makes such complete and total sense that once my mind works out the logistics, there’s no way I can’t follow through.

  Carolyn will know my apology is sincere. She’ll have no choice but to believe me.

  And even if she chooses not to, I’ll move on with my life knowing that I did everything possible to win her back, up to and including baring all the details of the worst parts of my past. Every little thing.

  If she wants to know about me, she can.