by Amelia Wilde
Ace
I need to get this woman out of my head. I’m starting to lose sleep over it, which is insane. A meaningless one-night stand wouldn’t…shouldn’t….
She wasn’t a meaningless one-night stand.
I switch off my computer with a harsh movement. Whatever she was, she has to stop taking over my every waking moment. And most of my sleeping moments.
Carolyn Banks has infiltrated my brain. I can’t stop replaying the curves of her body, the sound of her voice, how she moved against me in the dark, the perfect way we fit together….
My cock rises against the fabric of my boxers, so I pull out a folder from the top drawer of my desk and pretend to review the papers inside. I already signed them.
The first thing I did when I got back to the city was to tell my father I wanted a job. Well, not a job per se, but something to do. I’ve managed the funds from my trust exceptionally well and made many profitable investments, but there are only so many hours I can kill at the gym down the block from my new penthouse. Now that the furniture is all arranged, I need something to occupy my time.
And keep my mind off Carolyn.
So far, it’s been a disaster.
My father made me the advisor for one of his company’s divisions in New York City, so I have a desk and an office and nothing to do but advise.
It’s been three days since I last saw her. The fact that I have a running count gets more pathetic by the day.
I text Noah to tell him to bring the car around. At the very least, I need to make plans for the weekend. I can spend tonight at the gym. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll get in a workout, then I’ll order in, and then I’ll make plans for how to end my seclusion by the weekend.
Eli Pierce should be a good place to start for figuring that out.
I text him on the way back to the penthouse, and he tells me they’ll be going to the Swan, as usual, on Friday night.
Fine by me.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. I want to ask him if Carolyn will be invited.
No. I’m not going to act like some schoolgirl who’s been slighted. I was the one who ended things with her, not the other way around. If she wants to act that way, on the other hand….
I don’t send the text.
But it’s still on my mind as I step out of the Bentley and enter the building. They’re still running the air conditioning against the fall heat that rises up from the pavement in late afternoon, and the cool is a welcome relief against my flushed skin. A day of thinking about Carolyn hasn’t improved my mood.
I reach the elevator and my stomach plummets.
Because there, in front of it, stands Carolyn Banks, in a black sheath dress that shows off her curves to perfection, her hair swept back into a flawless chignon, her purse slung over her shoulder, posture straight.
The teenage boy version of me wants to turn around and walk straight back out, but the man I’ve become will have no fucking part of that.
It’s happening, like I knew it would.
I step up next to her. She glances to her left, once, then again, then returns to facing the elevator.
“I’m assuming you’ve called it already?”
She takes in a deep breath at the sound of my voice, then answers in a tone equally level. “Yes. I have.”
“Great.”
I don’t want to show any weakness. I don’t want her to know that I’ve been thinking about her nonstop since she walked out of the Four Seasons on Saturday. I don’t want her to think that I’ve been lying awake, thinking of the little sounds she makes when she comes, or that I’ve been dreaming of her firm breasts pressed against my chest.
The elevator door slides open smoothly, and we both step back to let an older woman step out and pass us as she walks into the lobby. A smile splits her wrinkled face as she moves past us. “Beautiful couple,” she murmurs, hooking one finger at the two of us.
Carolyn’s mouth opens like she wants to correct the woman, but she’s already halfway through the lobby. She’s missed her opportunity.
I step into the elevator and hold the door for her.
Carolyn doesn’t hesitate. She steps in beside me like she owns every piece of this building, and her confidence takes my breath away.
I shouldn’t be worried about awkwardness on her account. Only mine.
“Six,” she says, her voice clipped, emotionless.
“Got it.”
I press the button for the sixth floor, and then the button for the penthouse. Her eyes flick over to see which are lighted, and then she looks back above the door at the floor indicator as the elevator rises.
I swallow. Time is fucking short.
“That was shitty—how things ended on Saturday.” It’s not an apology. It’s not admitting I was wrong. And it’s the closest I’m going to come.
Carolyn shrugs, a small movement. “It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before.”
Pain cuts through my chest. I don’t want to be a man like all other men. I want to be someone fucking incredible. For her. For Elisa. But I don’t know why, and I don’t know how, to describe it.
“Well, it could have been better.”
She glances across at me, then turns her head to look into my eyes. Her dark eyes are bottomless, deep, as she assesses me. “Yes, it could have.”
The air between us is hot, charged. Does she feel it, too? Does she want to touch me as much as I want to get my hands on her? The elevator is too small by half.
I take the leap.
“Friday night, though…,” I let my voice trail off, an open door.
A smile quirks Carolyn’s lips, and her eyes dance. She sucks in a breath, then lets her gaze travel slowly down the length of my body, then back up to my face.
The elevator dings, and the door slides open. We’re at her floor.
“You’re right,” she says as she steps off. “I’m damn good.”
Chapter Fifteen
Carolyn
Damn it.
I run into Ace Kingsley one time in the elevator—one time—and he’s back under my skin.
What was that, anyway? Some kind of half-assed apology? Of course ‘it could have ended better’, if you hadn’t been such a prick.
That’s what I should have said to him.
But when he stepped up next to me in front of the elevator, my mind went completely blank. His scent mingled in the air with every breath I took. My first instinct? To take his lapels in my fists and kiss him silly until we both collapsed from lack of oxygen.
My second instinct? To slap his face for the way he brushed me off.
In the end, I had no choice but to join him on to the elevator. I’m not going to let him make me feel displaced in my own damn building. Not a chance.
And then, “That was shitty—how things ended on Saturday.”
Okay…no duh, Einstein.
At least I had something cutting to say. “It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him flinch a little. Men don’t like being told they’re not one of a kind, and Ace Kingsley is no exception. He sucked in a breath. The elevator hurtled upward.
There was a heavy silence.
Then….
“Friday night, though….”
I almost laughed out loud. This asshole is unstoppable. He dismisses me like some coldhearted bastard and then has the nerve to reminisce about the intense sex we had.
And he’s right.
That’s the thing that cut off the laughter. Friday night was…like nothing else I’ve ever experienced. Ever. And no matter how pissed I am at him, I still want more of it. More of him.
Jess’s voice floated up in my memory. “Now you can show him what he’s missing…and maybe even seduce him again.”
It’s an option, but how? I only had seconds left in this elevator with him, and who knows when it’ll happen again? I’m definitely not going to go up and knock on his door. I’m not going to hang around in the lobb
y waiting for him to make an appearance.
The real truth? I don’t want this to be a game. Maybe I’m naive, or maybe I’ve been alone too long, but I don’t want to toy with Ace’s emotions.
The elevator’s ding announced that we had arrived at my floor. Now or never. Cut him off forever with a harsh remark or leave the door open, even if it’s just an inch.
The door slid open.
“You’re right,” I said, as I stepped onto the carpeting in my hallway. “I’m damn good.”
Nailed it.
Of course, now my hands are trembling trying to unlock the door to my place. I’m glad for the solitude, for my current lack of a roommate, so I don’t have to explain why my cheeks are burning red, why there’s an odd smile on my face that I can’t seem to wipe off.
What is it about Ace Kingsley that makes me feel this way?
His handsome looks are part of it, that’s for damn sure. I thought Eli Pierce was one of the hottest men I’d ever seen until I saw the grown-up version of Ace Kingsley. He’s exactly the kind of man I’ve always pictured in my fantasies. His body is muscular and cut like a Greek god. And he even has tattoos decorating one arm and across his chest—invisible when he’s in one of his tailored suits, but fully on display when we’re in bed together, doing….
Oh, my God. I could have shut him down right then, but I didn’t.
Why?
Because I want him. That’s the only possible answer.
I close my eyes and think of him taking off his suit jacket, unbuttoning his shirt, stripping off his pants and boxers….
Then I shake my head before the fantasy overwhelms me. I still have some things to do before I can check out for the night, and one of those things is to see how Rainflower Blue is doing today.
I log into the forum, and Ace is, once again, everywhere. There are debates about whether or not it was me he took home from the Swan last Friday, and I don’t bother to confirm or deny it—from everything I can tell, Ace is single.
Yes, but what happened to him?
The thought comes unbidden, but it makes me pause.
Maybe he isn’t just being a total asshole. Maybe something happened to him that made him regret sleeping with me…or made him feel guilty about it.
Every man has secrets in his past.
What I need to do is find out what secrets are haunting Ace.
The pressure is on.
But there’s nothing I can do about it right now, short of taking the elevator up to the penthouse and asking him to talk to me.
I’m just going to have to wait.
Sooner or later, someone will have information. Someone will post it on Rainflower Blue, and the forum will go wild. That’s how it always happens.
Patience. I need patience.
It’s damn hard, though, when I’m waiting on so many things. Waiting for rumors to surface, waiting for Ace to make up his mind, waiting for—
There’s a knock on the door that makes me jump. My heart thuds against my rib cage. Is he here? Did I summon him here just by the power of thought? If I open the door, is he going to kiss me? I want it. I want it so damn bad….
I yank the door open….
To reveal a man in a tuxedo, holding a large paper bag.
“Carolyn Banks?”
“Yes?”
“Delivery from Sasabune.”
Sasabune is a high-end sushi place I’ve been to a few times in the past year. “I didn’t order anything.”
The guy consults the receipt. “A gift order from a Mr. Kingsley.” He holds out the bag. “There’s a note inside.”
I take the bag, then step back into the entryway. “Hang on a second, and I’ll tip—”
“No need, Ms. Banks,” the man says, and before I can say another word, he disappears down the hall.
What the hell is Ace Kingsley doing now?
I can’t help but smile.
Chapter Sixteen
Ace
The second Carolyn is off the elevator, I call Sasabune and insist on being connected to the head chef. It’s one of my favorite restaurants in the city, and they’ll do whatever it takes to keep me a happy customer—something I’m more than willing to take advantage of, especially in times like these.
Carolyn could have stepped into the hallway without another word, maybe with her middle finger raised, but she didn’t. She joked. She left the door open, just a fraction.
And maybe I’m fucking myself over. Maybe I’m going to end up with a heart bleeding with a thousand razor cuts, but my gut says that I should seize this opportunity. So I’m going to do more than put my foot in the doorway. I’m going to kick down the door.
The next call I place is to Noah.
“I have an order at Sasabune. Pick it up and deliver it to Carolyn Banks on the sixth floor.”
“You got it, boss.”
He makes no other comment.
I’m going to have to give him a raise.
My heart thuds against my rib cage while I make the walk from the elevator to my penthouse. If Noah performs up to his usual standards, he’ll be at Carolyn’s door inside half an hour. I don’t know how the hell he does it in New York traffic.
This is the perfect way to show her that she hasn’t gotten in the last word in on this, even if what she said to me on the way out of the elevator made heat flash through my chest.
It was also accurate.
She’s fucking incredible in bed. Almost frighteningly so. I thought Elisa was my soul mate, my perfect match, but even Elisa never reached Carolyn’s level.
The air in the room seems thin, now that I’m thinking of Elisa. Maybe she could have been on Carolyn’s level. Maybe we just didn’t have enough time. Maybe if I had—
No.
There’s no point in dwelling on what happened in Italy. Bad shit happens. The only thing I can do now is to move on. God knows her family never wants to see me again, even if ultimately it was their fault—
Stop.
I focus on the scene that’s about to play out a couple of floors below me. Noah will knock on the door. Will her heart race? Will she think it’s me? He might have to wait—she could be in the shower, soaping up that gorgeous body after a day at work, and then—
A text message comes into my phone.
Delivered.
I start to type back. How did she like it? Did she slam the door in your face?
Then I delete all of it. I’m not going to go there. Noah did his job. If he wants to tell me what Carolyn looked like when she opened the door, that’s up to him. I’m not going to harass him for details like I’m head over heels in love with her.
I’m not in love with her.
You could be.
It’s probably true. There was something about Carolyn that drew me to her the moment I saw her, and the way she moves—the way she’s witty and sharp and strong and confident—makes me want more of her.
Even though I shouldn’t.
For her sake as well as mine. She’s not going to want to be dragged into this mess.
I just can’t let it go. That’s the bitch of it. I can’t stop thinking about her, can’t stop wanting to be next to her. I could have had the guys pack up the moving truck and drive it to my second choice of new places.
If I’m going to approach the rest of my life with the attitude that I’ll never back down from getting what I want, then I have to start with Carolyn.
Even if it ends in disaster.
The thought of pursuing her makes my heart leap and turn inside my chest.
Fuck it.
Apocalypse or no, I’m going to see where this takes me.
First things first.
I text Eli Pierce.
What’s the plan for the Swan on Friday?
It takes him a few minutes, but he responds.
Go to the Swan. Get our regular table. Drink. Dance.
Who’s going?
This is as close as I can get to asking him if Carolyn will be there. Sending a ba
g of fancy sushi was one thing. Talking to all of her friends about her will just make me seem like a fucking creep.
Me, Quinn, Jess, Alec—the crowd.
I sigh heavily. Of course he doesn’t—
Oh, and probably Carrie Banks if she’s free. She’s usually up for a good time.
Cool. When?
9
A strange electricity moves down my arms to my fingertips. Two days and I’ll have the chance to be with Carolyn again. It’s too much to hope for a repeat of last Friday—way too fucking much to hope for—so I won’t even entertain the possibility. Just looking at her will be better than this.
The ghost of what I had with Elisa rears up, spearing my chest with cold regret. I swallow hard, trying to get the warmth of excitement back, and it’s fucking hard, and it fucking hurts, but I do it.
Then I move toward the new master bedroom. It’s not as large as the one in my old penthouse, but it’s also not stuffed with memories of Elisa, of what could have been with her.
I pull out a brand new pair of exercise gear, shorts and a tank top that’s tight on my cut abs, from the top drawer of the shelving unit in the walk-in closet. I take one second to survey how I look in the mirror. There’s a glint in my eyes, color in my cheeks. I’m not hunched over with the pain.
Damn right.
Not even Carolyn Banks can deter me now.
Gym. Food. Movies.
And tonight, when I dream about her, it will be all about the possibilities.
Chapter Seventeen
Carolyn
When I slide into my seat at the Swan on Friday night, my heart is thudding nonstop against my rib cage. Eli and Quinn, Alec and Jess, even Jax and Catherine, are here tonight…and there are three empty seats at the table.
Eli texted me earlier this morning. His invitation was more of a command.
Swan. Tonight! 9!
I rolled my eyes as I scanned the text from behind the counter at the boutique. I was up late last night moderating Rainflower Blue, which doesn’t put me in the mood for a party, but as usual, Eli wouldn’t take no for an answer.
We need you C.
You do not need me. You can drink champagne and dance all by yourselves.