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 bag 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 17
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.
It’s the big show…you sure you want to miss it?
The big show, sure. Some famous pop singer was slated to be at the Swan on Friday night, and whenever that happens, the crowd surges and grows. People end up inviting all of their friends to the exclusive performances to convince them they’re somebody important, I guess.
Of course, the moment Eli started texting, the name of the singer completely escaped my mind. As if it would make much difference to me.