Killer Summer by Lynda Curnyn (e book reading free .txt) 📗

but he had abandoned me in every way that really mattered. I felt as alone in the world as Vince seemed when he first came to the apartment on E. 64th Street. Which was probably why I befriended him, invited him over time and time again, fed him meals and listened late into the night while he told me of the pain of losing Gabriella and Sophia. Ironically enough, I fell in love with the way he loved his wife and child. In love with the shadow of pain in his eyes that mirrored the pain I felt.

Maybe this was what bound us together. Or maybe it was the fact that I discovered, during all those late-night talks we shared long after Tom had turned in, that Vince and I had a lot in common. Like me, he had grown up poor. Like me, he had spent his youth living in the shadow of the city, though his was more of a hard-knock life on the streets of Brooklyn. Like me, he had married into money. Apparently Gabriella D’Ambrosio was the one who held the keys to the kingdom in their relationship.But when Vince told me how he had made his way in New York, starting out in shipping and moving up to start his own exporting business, I understood why Gabriella had fallen in love with him. It was clear to me that Vince was not the type to hang on to anyone else’s coattails. He had his pride, almost too much of it, I sometimes thought. But I suppose I even loved that about him, too.

Which was why, when he told Tom he wanted to introduce some leather products into the Luxe lineup, I encouraged the idea. Vince had developed relationships with a few tanneries and was eager to expand Luxe’s offerings. Tom was hesitant at first. Luxe had suffered a lean season, and he was wary about growing the business at that point. But when he agreed to allow Vince to develop a few accessories for Luxe—some handbags, belts and even a few jacket styles, it was I who opened the champagne the night Vince came over, triumphant that he had just put through his first contract with the tanneries. Tom wasn’t home yet, so Vince and I toasted together, again and again, until we found ourselves settled together in the living room, drunk on the promise of future success. I remember that night as clearly as the night I died—how Vince looked at me, his eyes growing sad as he said he had hoped to realize this dream with Gabriella by his side.“I guess you never really know someone, do you?” he said.

Ironic that those were the words he uttered just moments before he kissed me for the first time. He obviously knew me well enough to understand that such tragic romantic talk was the kind of thing 1 lived for. Of course, nothing happened that night. Nothing except for a few heart-wrenching statements from Vince about how he couldn’t do this to Tom, how he had to let me go before it was too late.

And then he was gone. Off to Italy to pursue his new dream. Leaving me with a longing so deep I could barely live with my illusions about my marriage anymore.

By the time Vince came back, two years later, I was putty in his hands. When he told me how much he had thought about me while he was gone, I believed him. When I watched him struggle with the idea of betraying Tom, I killed all his arguments with a kiss.

Thus began the affair that consumed me for the better part of a year. And it wasn’t just stolen afternoons that we shared, but also dreams. Vince wanted to grow the leather portion of the business and began talking about a new urban line of outerwear. Spurred on by the glow of ambition in his eyes, I echoed his vision to Tom. Tom didn’t need much encouragement. The leather goods Vince had already developed had taken off, and Tom had himself been thinking along the lines of expansion.

When Edge was born, I had the joy of participating in the dream. The sorrow of realizing that that dream would take Vince away from me. Of course, he promised to come back for me, once he successfully got the manufacturing under way. So I was content to wait, even taking a job at Edge just after the first successful trade show with some idea my work there might keep me closer to the man I loved.

But that’s the thing about romance with a capital R. You can’t get too close to it. Otherwise, you’ll find it to be as fleeting as your last orgasm.

Chapter Forty-six

Zoe

Last stop: Kismet

Myles was waiting for me at the dock. I gave myself about thirty seconds to relish that fact, along with the glow of concern in his golden brown eyes. But of course, he was only waiting there because I’d called him in a panic from the train and let him in on all the latest developments.

“Hey,” I greeted him, feeling an almost Pavlovian urge to kiss him. Isn’t that what one did when one met a loved one at the dock?

“Hey,” he said, leaning forward to grab my backpack.

Okay, that was chivalrous. I’ll take what I can get.

“What the hell do you have in this thing?” he said, holding it up.

“Stuff,” 1 said. “Never mind that. We have to hurry.”

He put the pack on the ground. “Hurry where, exactly?”

I looked at him. “To Donnie Havens’s house.”

Myles’s eyes widened. “Zoe, we can’t just go over there and starting shooting off accusations. That guy could be dangerous.”

I smiled. “That’s what you’re here for. You do still practice karate, right? Or did you give that up, too?”

“Zoe, it won’t matter what I practice if Donnie has a gun. I think we should call the police.”

I rolled my eyes. “A fat