Filthy Rich (Filthy Rich 1)

The thought made me want to throw up.

I gazed at Sacre-Coeur for a while, then wandered down the hill to the neighborhood streets. This was idyllic Paris—café’s, patios with bright umbrellas, Parisians walking by with their groceries tucked under their arms. I found a café with a menu in English and sat down, ordering a cappuccino.

On the table next to me, left by the last customer, was a copy—an actual newsprint copy—of the New York Times. I’d only been gone from New York for just over a day, and still I leaned over and picked it up, leafing through it, the splintered part of me that still longed for New York, and Aidan, eager to scan the news.

My cappuccino came, and I sipped it as I turned the newsprint pages. And then, in the business section, I saw the headline.

The Egerton brothers, the ones who had commented on my ass, were under investigation by the SEC. They’d been set to offer their company publicly on the stock exchange, but then evidence had come to light that proved they had stolen the software that they’d used to launch the company. The theft itself would have gotten them in trouble, but the fact that they were going to sell shares in a company based on fraud brought in federal investigators. The company was finished, there would be no IPO, and both men were looking at criminal charges and possibly jail time.

My mind went back to Aidan at the airport as we’d waited for our flight to Chicago, reading a report about the Egerton brothers on his laptop. This was originally a revenge thing for me, but now I’m finding interesting information. And then: You should know this about me, Samantha. I’m not a nice person, especially in business.

I had a sinking feeling. Was this Aidan’s doing? Because of me?

It was absurd. What kind of ego did I have, thinking that the biggest financial story of the year was because of me? But Aidan had been so sure. And he’d said he had interesting information.

I blinked at the story in front of me as the words blurred and came into focus again. If it was true, what kind of person did that make Aidan, the man I’d spent hours in bed with before I left New York? Ruthless. Cold, even. Sure, the Egertons were jerks, and if they’d stolen software and then tried to sell public shares, then they deserved a federal investigation. But now they were ruined, maybe forever. And I had the feeling that Aidan Winters would have no problem sleeping at night.

I closed the paper and pushed it away. Then I reached into my bag and got out my phone. I turned it on, letting it power up and find a signal. Messages and alerts started downloading, several dozen in all. Texts from Emma, who I’d told where I was so she wouldn’t worry. And then texts from Aidan.

At first he’d texted me like normal, and then when I hadn’t answered he’d been curious. Then alarmed. But the latest text was from an hour ago, and he wasn’t alarmed anymore. I scrolled to it and stared at it, taking it in.

I hope you’re enjoying Paris, he wrote. I’m on my way.

Thirty-Six

Aidan

* * *

Did she think it was over? She was wrong.

As the plane landed at Charles de Gaulle, I pulled my bag from under my seat. I’d be out of the airport in minutes, because I had no checked bags. Just what I could carry.

I was wearing jeans and a tee. I hadn’t shaved and I’d left off the expensive watch. This wasn’t a role for me; this was the real Aidan, the runaway kid from Chicago. The woman next to me in the first-class seat had eyed me up and down numerous times, giving me a quiet invitation. The old Aidan would have struck up a conversation with her, given her a fake name, then fucked her anonymously in a hotel somewhere. The new Aidan wasn’t interested at all.

I only wanted one woman, and I’d come here to find her.

When I’d come to Samantha’s apartment, the game had been over.

But now we were playing again. A new version. And this was the game that I played for forever.

Thirty-Seven

Samantha

* * *

I spent the next morning in the Louvre, looking at some of the greatest art in the history of the world. It was incredible, but even as I stared at the Mona Lisa, I thought of Aidan. I wondered if he’d ever been here and seen this.

I’m on my way, he’d said. But I didn’t know what flight he was on or when he’d land. I didn’t even know if he was telling the truth. Though something told me that the man who could sink the Egerton brothers with one blow wasn’t fooling around.

I walked out of the Louvre, pausing to turn back and look at its astounding beauty. Even with the crowds everywhere, it was breathtaking. I’d kept my phone on, and it sounded in my bag with a text.

Aidan: Do you want me to guess where you are?

I didn’t even think; that stupid photograph felt like a year ago. I called him.

“Samantha,” he said when he answered. “Bonjour.”