The Complete Bad Boy Billionaire Boxed Set

by Amelia Wilde

  My God.

  I text him with fingers that shake and hit the wrong keys.

  Meet me at my place. 5:30?

  It takes almost no time for him to reply.

  Done.

  Maybe it’s overboard, but I send him one last message:

  I can’t wait to see you. I can’t wait to talk with you. Let’s figure this out.

  There’s radio silence, and it makes me nervous as hell.

  When my phone vibrates again forty-five minutes later, I snatch it up, sure that it’s Ace, sure that he just needed a little while to reply. He could have been in a meeting. He could have been doing anything.

  But it’s not from Ace. It’s from Aida.

  Results were delivered to your place minutes ago. They’ll be waiting for you.

  Thanks.

  I put my phone back down in its place near the register, trying not to frown too much and alarm anyone else in the store.

  It’s odd that Aida wouldn’t have sent the information—whatever it is—to my apartment without confirming that it was actually placed into my hands, but maybe things are different in Italy. Gerard would never dream of it.

  I shrug a little and shake it off. Oh, well. The likely scenario is that they slipped it under the door and it’ll be waiting for me when I return.

  That just means I need to leave a little early.

  At four-fifteen I tell Natalie I have some errands to run. She gives me a nervous nod.

  “You don’t have to worry. I made sure the police are running rounds on the block all the time for at least the next couple of weeks. Plus, I’ve got Sara coming in to help you close.”

  “Thanks, Carolyn.” Her cheeks go pink with relief. The break-in seems to have shaken her much more than it did me, even though nobody was actually at the boutique when it happened. Discovering it must have been pretty damn unsettling.

  I walk the three blocks home in the cool September air, treasuring the late afternoon sun on my face and trying to stop my heart from pounding.

  This isn’t going to be a fun conversation. But when it’s over, we’ll both know exactly where we stand, and that’s what I want. I love him enough to ignore these rumors, and he loves me enough to know that my feelings for him are separate from the jobs I do.

  I hope.

  The doorman, Arnie, traps me into a conversation in the lobby, so I spend five minutes talking to him about the beautiful weather before I can extricate myself. I hope Ace hasn’t come home from work early for this. I just need a few minutes….

  The moment Arnie sets me free, I race for the elevator, then hurry down the hallway to my door.

  The moment I put the key in the lock, I know something is wrong. There’s no resistance, like there would be if the door was locked from the inside.

  I take my key out and push the door open slowly. Did I forget to lock it this morning when I left for work? Did Ace—God forbid—show up early and forget to lock it behind him?

  I know immediately that the second scenario has played out when I step into the entryway.

  I know immediately that things are even worse.

  Because Ace stands at the end of the hall leading into the living room, a large envelope in his hands.

  By the look on his face, he’s seen the contents.

  He knows.

  He knows.

  I feel my face go pale.

  “Ace, I—” I want to be angry that he opened my mail, but I can’t begin to choke those kinds of accusations out. My heart beats slower, clenched in a cold fist. All I want to do is explain this to him, to take the pain away from his face. “I can explain all of this—”

  “Can you?” His voice is low and sharp and angry. “Can you tell me why there’s an investigative report from someone in Italy in your apartment? Can you tell me why that would possibly be necessary?”

  Every word is a slash of a knife to my gut.

  “You shouldn’t have opened my mail,” I whisper, and even as I say it, I know it’s just the beginning of the disaster.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Ace

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I try to keep my voice level, but it’s impossible to keep my rage out of it. “What are you, some kind of spy? Are you that fucking damaged that you need to do background checks on the men you sleep with?”

  “No,” she says, stepping toward me. I hold up one hand. I don’t want her any closer.

  I want her much closer. I want her in my arms, relatively innocent and hot for me and falling more in love with me every second. I want her mouth on mine, kissing me like there’s no goddamn tomorrow.

  It feels like that right now, but if she comes any closer, I’m going to fracture into a million pieces.

  “Then what?” I throw the envelope onto the couch, the papers spilling out.

  Carolyn holds up both hands for a moment, then drops them to her sides. “I run a website.”

  I raise my eyebrows. That doesn’t fucking explain anything.

  “I run a website called Rainflower Blue. It’s very exclusive, and very secret, and it’s basically a closed gossip site for New York’s wealthiest people.”

  My stomach turns over. Really? This is what sweet, kind, compassionate Carolyn does in her spare time? I shake my head, letting my disgust show on my face. “Let me guess. They’ve been talking about me. And my time in Italy.”

  “Yes,” she says, her cheeks turning a deep red.

  “Why the hell would you believe any of it?”

  “Because—” She looks away, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “It’s not that I believed them, Ace. I wanted to be able to deny them so that we could move on.”

  “Oh, yeah? That’s why you just asked me about it outright?”

  “You didn’t seem to want to talk about it.”

  “No shit I didn’t want to talk about it,” I spit. “It’s my personal fucking business. The internet doesn’t need to know. You don’t even need to know.”

  “I want to know,” she says softly. “I didn’t want to be—to be caught off guard by another man.”

  “Right,” I say, my mouth curling into a sneer. I fucking hate this version of myself. “You probably have a reason for everything.”

  She looks down at the floor, and I’m so angry I could die right here.

  “You want to know what happened in Italy? Fine. I’ll tell you.” I take a deep breath and brace for the pain of what happened with Elisa. “I went over there for business, and while I was living in Rome, I met a girl. Her name was Elisa, and she was everything I wanted at the time. Fun. Carefree. Beautiful. I thought it was the real thing.” I want to actually spit on the ground at this memory. “We were together six months before she dropped the bomb.”

  Carolyn’s mouth opens, like she wants to interrupt, to ask a question, but she closes it again. Wise.

  “She was the daughter of a man who led one of Italy’s biggest crime rings. He did most of his work underground, and he wanted her to have a clean source of money. So he sent her to seduce me. And she did.”

  Carolyn shakes her head, her shoulders slumping.

  “Except it turned into the real thing. We had real feelings for each other. So I started planning to get us out of Italy. That bastard had people everywhere. Still does. So it wasn’t going to be fucking simple, even though I had more than enough money to pay for a private flight out.”

  My jaw tightens. “It didn’t matter. Before we could leave, she got diagnosed with aggressive brain cancer. It only took her six weeks to die.”

  Carolyn gasps, then covers her mouth with her hands, tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

  “You can imagine that her mob boss father wasn’t pleased with that, and in his grief, he got the Italian authorities involved. He ran a smear campaign against me, trying to get me tagged for murder—even though it was clear she’d died from cancer—and everything went to hell.”

  I look at her until she’s looking me straight in the eye. “I came
back to New York because I knew I’d never be able to get out from under his thumb in Italy. Not unless I wanted to be wrapped up in the process for the rest of my life. Who was going to trust me, anyway? I was married to the daughter of a wanted criminal.”

  “Ace, I—”

  “That’s what happened. You still think I’m a fucking murderer, go ahead and think that. I can’t change your mind.”

  “I don’t think you’re a murderer. I just—I just wanted to know the truth.” Her voice is on the verge of pleading, and for a split second I consider going over to her, taking her face in my hands, and kissing her until all this is in the distant past.

  But my fury rages.

  I can’t do it.

  “Then you should have asked me,” he snarls.

  “It seemed more complicated than that.”

  “You know what?” I say, and her eyes widen a little. Is that a flicker of hope that I see there? Fuck that. “You’re just like all the other gossip-hungry bitches in New York City.” I can feel my mouth curling into another sneer, and I force it to stop because it’s an ugly expression to wear, and I don’t want anyone, ever again, to have the satisfaction of causing it. “You’re just as bad as the rest of them. This was another set-up, wasn’t it? You just wanted up-close-and-personal content for your little website.”

  She shakes her head harder, emphatically. “No. That’s not what I wanted. I didn’t—I heard about you coming back to New York, but I didn’t know about any of the other rumors until later.” She takes in a shuddering breath. “I always thought you were cute in high school. You caught my eye. I just wanted to be sure that—”

  “I would be in jail right now if I’d killed my wife!”

  She presses her lips together, her chin quivering.

  “You are just as bad as all the rest.” I head for the door, going past her on the way out, leaning the other way so I don’t touch her.

  I turn back once I’ve opened the door, gesturing to the air between us. “This is over.”

  Then I’m gone.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Carolyn

  The moment the door closes behind Ace, I sink to the carpet, sitting down heavily when my knees won’t hold me up any longer.

  It’s just like that first night we spent together, except this time the cold look on his face was laced with pain and anger and betrayal.

  Because of what I did.

  It’s all my fault, and I had no business at all prying into his life like that.

  Was it worth it, Carolyn? I think sharply as the tears fall hot onto my open palms.

  No, the answer comes back, too little and too late.

  I weep on the carpet by my doorway for exactly five minutes before I force myself to stand up and walk back into the apartment, trying my damnedest to swallow the painful lump in my throat.

  My hands are trembling so badly I can barely swipe the screen on my phone, and it takes three deep breaths before I can collect myself enough to unlock it. But once I do, I have no idea who to text, who to call. All I have is my stupid fucking website, which has made me an obscene amount of money and ruined my life.

  Isn’t that always how it goes?

  Finally it comes to me. Jessica. Jess is still in town, and she’ll want to go out before they head back to Saintland and she has to resume her queenly duties. At least, I hope she will, because if not, I’ll bury my head into my comforter and never emerge again.

  My thumbs are obviously shaken by the breakup too much to send a coherent text, so I call her instead. She picks up on the second ring.

  “Care!” she says brightly, and I hear her daughter jabbering in the background.

  “What—” My voice comes out as a sad little croak, and I have to clear my throat before I can force the words out. “What are you doing tonight?”

  “Honey, not now,” she says, her voice muffled, and then she comes back on the line. “Care, is something wrong? You sound weird.”

  “What are you doing tonight?” I repeat, trying to sound brighter, happier, more whole than I feel at this moment.

  “I don’t have—do we have any plans, Alec?” she calls out, and a male voice rumbles in the background. “We don’t have any plans,” she says, her voice still concerned. “Are you needing a girls’ night out?”

  “As long as I’m not interrupting anything important.”

  “Not possible,” says Jessica, her voice firm. “What time? Where do you want to go? The Swan?”

  “No.” I say it too quickly, and Jess is silent. “I mean—let’s just go somewhere where nobody will know us. Do you know someplace more out of the way that your security detail won’t have a problem with?”

  When Jessica speaks again, I can hear the smile in her voice right over the phone. “Of course I do. I’ll come by at eight and pick you up.”

  “Great.” My shoulders sag in relief. At least I won’t be alone tonight, even if I am staring at a lifetime of loneliness.

  “And Care?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.”

  “I hope so.” That’s all I can say.

  The silence lingers between us for a few moments.

  “I’ll see you at eight,” says Jess gently, and then the call is disconnected.

  I’m completely disoriented. What time is it, even? It can’t be later than, what, five-thirty?

  I’m stunned to find out that it’s just past six o’clock. My five-minute breakdown must have lasted much longer than five minutes. I’d always considered myself a pretty accurate judge of time, but my brain fell apart when Ace left.

  What’s he doing now? Is he up in his penthouse?

  If I go up there right now, can I fix what happened? Can I make everything right between us? Let him know that I understand now that none of this—none of it—has been worth it if it means losing him?

  You’ve already lost him, I tell myself sternly, and I try to straighten my shoulders, but they feel too heavy.

  There are several thing I need to do right now, and none of them include falling into a heap on the floor and sobbing until my chest feels empty. So, as much as the floor beckons to me, I resist.

  I’m meeting my friend in less than two hours.

  I struggle with turning the shower on for almost thirty seconds before remembering that the knob goes the other way. What the hell is happening to me? Another man walks out of my life and I turn into this?

  I’ve been really good at getting over men. I’ve had to be. Because my adulthood has been nothing but a string of men coming into my life and walking straight back out again.

  But Ace—Ace is different.

  Ace made me want to be near him whenever he walked into a room. Ace was irresistible, and it wasn’t just because of his body.

  “Stop,” I say out loud over the rush of the shower. “Stop.”

  I’m torturing myself needlessly, because if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that Ace is never—never—coming back to me.

  I stand on the chilly bathroom tiles and strip off my clothes, letting that action sink in, and all it does is deepen the hole in my heart until it’s nothing less than a pit of despair.

  I practice a smile.

  Then another.

  My face feels frozen in grief and I feel hollow and lifeless, but Jess will be coming, and I can’t look like a complete freak if we’re going to go out—even if everything is crumbling down around me. Even if the whole world is on fire.

  I step into the shower and let the hot water flow down over every inch of my skin. I stay in there until I can’t stand it anymore, and then I step out, unconsciously towel myself off, and finally muster up enough strength to blast my hair with the hair dryer, brushing and straightening until it’s gleaming perfection. Makeup. A dress that makes me ooze sex appeal. Shoes.

  I go through the motions.

  When Jess knocks on the door just after eight, I’m ready to face the world.

  At least on the outs
ide.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Ace

  In the elevator on the way to the penthouse, I have to brace myself on the wall to keep from tumbling over, from being sick all over the floor.

  Carolyn twisted the knife, then she twisted it again. She pretended to love me, and then she yanked it away just when I was reaching out. To top it all off, she let me fall to my knees in front of her and then kicked me when I was down.

  Until Elisa, I had no idea that people could be so cruel, so thoughtless, so selfish. And I was cruel and thoughtless and selfish myself. Only I didn’t see it that way.

  Love changed me.

  And now another bout of misplaced love has made it absolutely fucking clear how worthless it is.

  I was sure when Elisa died that I’d never feel anything for anyone again, but even on the flight home, I could feel the barriers around my heart starting to crack, starting to break away from the numbness. Elisa loved life. She was devastated when they gave her the diagnosis, but she never stopped appreciating the people and things she had around her. For fuck’s sake, she spent most of her last days comforting me.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out of here,” I’d sobbed into her shoulder, late one night when all the nurses were gone. I fucking hated crying in front of her. I haven’t cried in front of anyone since then, and I don’t think I ever will.

  “You tried your best,” she said, leveraging all her strength to lift an arm and put it on my shoulder, her fingers brushing my cheek. “My father’s not the easiest man.”

  He was a complete douchebag who tried his best to get me thrown out of the hospital on her last day. I never thought I’d meet someone more conniving, more cutthroat, than that man.

  Maybe he has a match in Carolyn.

  My heart is pounding so furiously that I can’t get my mind to settle down enough to go over what she said. Something about a rainflower, a website she runs.

  My chest seizes up. Not only did she go behind my back and have me investigated, she’s been profiting off the entire thing.