He Will be My Ruin

“Or a shrine. He clearly felt something strong for her. But we haven’t seen anything that indicates he ever meant her any harm.”

“You mean like Celine’s dead body?” I glare pointedly at Doug.

Doug ignores my sarcasm. “He has a serious network of computers in there. They’ve seized them and are taking them back to their tech experts.”

Hope sparks. “So if they find videos of Celine on there—”

“Then Childs will have enough to reopen Celine’s investigation. I’ve just now filled him in on what we know. Both on and off the record.”

I grab hold of his forearm, suddenly remembering. “What about the missing diary? Did they find it? We need that. I need to see it.” As hard as it will be, I need to read Celine’s last thoughts. I need to know what went on. Did she suspect Grady of anything? Was she afraid of Grady at all?

Doug shakes his head. “Nothing like that yet.”

“Dammit.” I release my grip on him.

“But this is all still good, isn’t it?” Ruby asks, nodding her encouragement toward me. “It looks like we were right.”

A slight frown touches Doug’s brow. “Yeah. Maybe.”

CHAPTER 42

Celine

August 20, 2015

“You don’t think Ruby heard us, do you?” She’s like a grandmother to me. Having her know what I’m doing to pay my bills would be almost as bad as my mother finding out.

Grady settles back, tucking his arm behind his head. “Nah. She’s usually asleep at this time. Plus this bed’s quiet.” He pauses. “Why? Has she mentioned anything to you?”

“She’s not going to come right out and say it.” I pull the sheet up to cover my nakedness, but Grady promptly yanks it down, his brow arched, his smile devilish. That’s one of his requirements: that my body is on display for him whenever he’s paying for it.

His eyes trail over my breasts and stomach, and I see the excitement in them. I figure he’ll be ready for another round in about ten minutes. That’s another requirement—the special five-hundred-dollar rate I’m giving him is for the full night, until he’s ready to climb back up the fire escape, to whatever it is he does in that apartment of his that apparently no one has ever stepped foot inside.

That’s usually not for a few hours, as I learned after the first paid night here, nearly three weeks ago now.

“How is that security camera working out for you?” he asks, as if we’re two lovers having a casual conversation.

“It’s great. Thank you. I feel safer already.”

“Good.”

“You think I’m nuts, don’t you?” Every once in a while, I’ve come home to this eerie sense that someone has been in my apartment. A shifted clock. A drawer that’s open a crack. A slightly rumpled duvet. Things that a normal person probably wouldn’t notice but because of my need for tidiness and order, I do. Then I tell myself that I’m crazy, that it’s just nerves over living alone in this giant city.

But I’ve been coming home to that eerie sense more and more lately.

I mentioned it to Grady last week. He chuckled a little, but then recommended I install a discreet camera just for peace of mind. He even offered to get one for me and set it up.

“Maybe a little.” He rolls to face me, reaching out to push a strand of hair off my face. “But that’s okay. We’re all a little bit nuts, aren’t we?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

I’m used to putting on a sexy dress and a mask of makeup and heading out to an impersonal hotel to spend an hour or two—depending on how much the client is paying for—and then parting ways.

I’m not used to lying in bed on Thursday night in a tank top and boxers, my face washed clean of mascara and lipstick, only to have a client tap on my window. And I’m definitely not used to lying around in bed and talking with ease afterward.

This is beginning to feel like a relationship.

“I don’t get it, Grady,” I finally blurt out. “You’re a really attractive guy. You don’t need to spend five hundred dollars a week for sex. You could find someone amazing out there.”

His finger trails along the length of my arm, giving me goose bumps. “You don’t want my money?”

“I didn’t say that.” The first round of Mom’s medical bills have come through, putting a dent in my bank account. I don’t have a choice. I need this. “I just . . . I’m trying to understand.”

“I’m not big on relationships. They take a lot of work and commitment.”

And Grady doesn’t seem too eager for either. Which is why he’ll never be the guy for me.

But Jace Everett is.

And Jace Everett finally called my direct line at the office and asked that I take him out on one of my “treasure hunts.”

I’ve stopped going on them, seeing as I’ll be packing or selling my collection. But for a man like Jace Everett, I’ll gladly plan a route. Maybe I can persuade him to take the train with me out to Hudson, to hit up the antique shops. Or better yet, we could drive upstate, to Bloomfield Antique Country Mile. Of course, that would be an overnight thing . . .

“What are you smiling about?” Grady asks.

I press my lips tight because I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s just one date. A date I haven’t even told Dani about, because Dani and Marnie are close, and it’ll get back to Jace’s assistant, Natasha. We all know she has a thing for her boss. Plus, it could be nothing. Maybe he really does just want my help with finding a gift for his mother. Maybe this is just a friendly outing.

“Nothing. I’m just happy.”

“Yeah . . . me too,” he says with a wry smile, reaching over to slide his hand up my inner thigh, pushing my legs apart.

————

September 5, 2015

I am in love with this man.

It’s only taken two dates to know this for a fact. Now I can simply enjoy gazing at him as he discusses the sommelier’s bottle of wine with the grace of a man born and bred into a world of high expectations, his perfect features cast under the dim light.

Because I know that I have found the man I have been looking for. He’s handsome and educated and driven—God, is he ever driven—and, best of all, he appreciates my own career interests.