Salvage Him (Highland Park Chronicles Book 1)

by Sydney Aaliyah Michelle

  "I never get to practice it." He grinned and took a sip of his green tea.

  We finished our lunch, and I joined him for a cup of green tea. The tea was hot and earthy. It felt good on my throat after the strain I had put it through last night.

  I felt guilty; I hadn't thought about Harrison for a whole hour. I rolled my eyes at myself.

  "What’s wrong?" Professor Stewart caught me.

  "Nothing."

  He didn't believe me. He scrutinized me like a Dom. The kind of stare that made you think you'll never have another secret.

  But he didn't call me on it.

  "Harrison said I wasn't supposed to ask you about the two of you," he said.

  "He's afraid you wouldn't approve, I think. He looks up to you."

  "He's a great guy and a good friend, but I don't think I deserve his admiration. He impresses the hell out of me. Especially after what happened with his mother."

  My chests tightened.

  "I know she died. Is there more to the story?" I asked.

  He took a sip and nodded his head.

  "There's always more to the story, isn't there?" He winked and smiled.

  He didn't push it with me before, so I figured I'd give him the same courtesy.

  "So about your divorce, Harrison said you didn't think it would be contested, but now you’re not so sure." Professor Davis' tone changed.

  "Yeah. I mean, with the prenup, I thought drawing up the papers would be a formality, but it's taking longer than it should," I said.

  "Have you talked to your husband?" Professor Stewart asked.

  "No. " I shook my head. "Harrison doesn't want me to communicate with him, and I really don't want to either."

  Professor Stewart nodded.

  "I reached out to his lawyer several times and got no response," I said.

  "Well, I reviewed the prenup, and you're right. It's standard stuff. You’re not contesting anything, so it leaves me to wonder what your husband knows." Professor Stewart frowned.

  "About Harrison and me? Nothing." My eye grew wide.

  "A seemingly wealthy, well established and successful businessman, your typical alpha . . ." Professor Stewart flipped through a file.

  "Wannabe alpha."

  Professor Davis laughed.

  "He's like five-foot-eight, a hundred sixty pounds with a receding hairline and . . ." I trailed off. Shocked I almost went down that road.

  "Napoleon complex. Even better. If his ego is hurt, then it might be the reason he’s dragging it out. It might be as easy as taking it out of his hands and going lawyer to lawyer," Davis said with confidence.

  "Okay. What do we do?" I asked.

  Stewart pulled a folder out of his messenger bag.

  “I had a divorce lawyer friend of mine draw this up. I’d like to email this letter to his lawyer today; I'll cc your husband and see if they respond." He handed the letter to me.

  I skimmed over it. It had a lot of legal mumbo jumbo and a few demands, but nothing hostile. If anything, it was too tame. I wanted to say something like sign the fucking papers, or I'll send my squad of Doms out to hunt you down and kick your ass.

  "This looks fine." I nodded.

  "Your mind wanders a lot. What are you thinking about?" he asked.

  "Harrison says that, too."

  "Must be frustrating for him at times."

  "You have no idea."

  "I have some idea."

  I tilted my head.

  He tilted his back.

  It fell into place. Professor Davis was Harrison’s Dom mentor, probably Justin’s and Seth’s, too.

  Now, I was dying to know the rest of the story, but my ringing phone interrupted my thoughts.

  I fished it out of my purse. Harrison's eyes appeared on the screen.

  I grinned without meaning to. I looked up at Professor Stewart.

  He gathered his stuff.

  "I have class in five minutes, so I'll take care of this on the way out." He reached out, and I shook his hand. "Tell him I said hello."

  He walked over to the bar. I turned to watch him speak to the owner and the waitress in Japanese.

  "Hey," I said into the phone.

  "Hey, pup. We just landed. How are you? How was your meeting with Professor Stewart?"

  "Why didn't you tell me Professor Stewart was a Dom?" I asked.

  Harrison chuckled and stopped. "Why? What did he do?"

  "He reminded me of you more than anything." Not in the way they looked or the way they carried themselves, and certainly not in demeanor. Harrison's anger simmered under his skin. Professor Stewart was the personification of laid back, but something about them felt similar. "He could tell when my mind wandered. He told me I fidgeted too much."

  "And . . ."

  "And he’s very intuitive. I felt like he could read me." I took another sip of tea.

  "He wasn't inappropriate with you, was he?" Harrison asked.

  "No. God, no." I laughed. "Harrison, come on. He is so proud of you."

  "Okay." Harrison chuckled. "I'm sorry. I'm acting a little strange."

  "Why?" I gathered my stuff and walked out of the restaurant.

  "I'm starting to think you were right. I shouldn't have left you. Something doesn't feel right."

  The hair stood up on the back of my neck.

  "Harrison. We're just being paranoid and maybe going through withdrawals."

  "That's it. I'm addicted to you," he said.

  "And I'm addicted to you." I leaned back against my SUV. "So do what you have to do and hurry because detoxing from you is more than my little heart can take."

  Twenty-Four

  Brooklyn

  I survived two days without my Harrison fix. We texted and talked on the phone, and it was fine—perfectly fine—but it was no substitute to feeling his arms around me. Having his lips on me, having his mind work my mind and body over until I couldn't take a breath without him telling me to.

  Leanne pulled me out of my daydream.

  "Hey Brooklyn, honey, I was hoping I'd get back before you left." She stopped in the doorway and looked around the nursery.

  "Oh, my goodness gracious." Her eyes grew wide, and she had instant tears. Do all Southern women know that trick?

  I had finished hanging the curtains. Piper completed the tree of life scene on the wall that morning. I had assembled the furniture and stored it in their game room while the paint dried. Besides the fumes, the place was ready for the twins

  "What do you think?" I asked.

  "I love it." She let one tear slip before pressing her fingers under her eyes so as not to mess up her makeup.

  "Great. Let the room air out overnight, and it should be fine." I finished collecting my stuff.

  "Oh, girl. I love that smell." She giggled and inhaled.

  I laughed and shook my head. It gave me a headache.

  "Maybe it's the babies. They crave some weird shit, I tell you." She placed her hands on her baby mound.

  "Leanna, I thought you were trying to stop cussing," I said.

  "I know, but hell, I've been cussing all my life. It’s going to takes a while to get in the habit." She grinned.

  I shook my head and adjusted the light green curtains once more. "What did you need me for?"

  "Oh, shoot. I almost forgot." She took my arm and walked me toward the stairs. "You're coming to my baby shower tomorrow, right? Change of venues. I'm having it here at my house because my girlfriends are too cheap to rent an appropriate place." She squeezed my hand. "Besides, I want to show off the nursery, and then I could introduce them to my decorator."

  "Leanne, you don't have to do that." I grinned up at her.

  "Yes, I do. And when you get all these new clients, you just remember, you drop everything when I need you. Promise?" She placed her arm on my shoulder.

  "Promise."

  She hugged me and walked me to the door.

  I climbed in my SUV and waved as I pulled away from the curb. I drove back to the apartment. I
was exhausted. It wasn't late, but I wanted to get some rest.

  Harrison was coming back tomorrow. My insides flipped when I thought about the long nights in our foreseeable future.

  I parked in the garage and rode the elevator up to my floor.

  As soon as I walked in the door, something felt off. I wasn't alone.

  "Hello, Brooke."

  I gasped and turned toward the office off the front entryway. Paul sat with his elbows resting on the desk.

  "Hey, Paul." I caught my breath. "What are you doing here?"

  "This is my home. I still own this place, remember." His face held a weird expression. His normally stiff hair fell into his eyes. He blinked his eyes rapidly and pushed his tresses out of his face.

  "Yeah, of course. I just wasn't expecting you." I took a few steps into the office.

  "No, you weren't expecting me." He slammed something down on the desk.

  I jumped.

  "Maybe you were expecting someone else." Paul sneered.

  My wrist cuffs sat in the middle of the glass desk. I brought them home when Harrison went out of town. Wearing them made me feel closer to him.

  Paul fumbled with one of the buckles as he stood up.

  "I found these in your nightstand." He opened it.

  "I—"

  He held up his hand.

  I shut up.

  "Please don't lie to me. You know what. I don't even want to hear the truth. This ends now." He dropped the cuff on the desk.

  The metal hit the glass with a loud thud.

  "What do you mean?" I narrowed my eyes and clutched my chest.

  "You said there was no one else?" Paul asked.

  "Paul . . ."

  He walked to the front of the desk and leaned back on it. He crossed his legs at the ankles and pulled his phone out of his pocket and read.

  Harrison: Are you wet for me, pup?

  Brooklyn: Yes, Sir. So wet.

  Harrison: How wet?

  Brooklyn: I had to change my panties as soon as I got home. :-)

  "I especially love the smiley face at the end of that one," Paul said with wide crazy eyes.

  "Paul, stop." I stepped closer to him.

  He glared at me and continued to read as I backed up into the foyer.

  Harrison: I'm going to fuck you so hard when I get home. Are you ready for me?

  Brooklyn: Absolutely, Sir.

  Harrison: That's my sweet sub.

  Paul stalked over to me.

  "That's my sweet sub!" He screamed in my face.

  I stepped back until my ass hit the wall.

  He pursued but didn't touch me. He stood in my space, inspected me like some unidentified rotting piece of meat.

  "Paul. I'm sorry," I pleaded. “I didn't do anything until after we had broken up."

  "I don't remember signing divorce papers." He turned away from me. "You got a lawyer. Why? Was that supposed to scare me?"

  "I—" He didn't let me answer.

  "I came home to tell you the reason my lawyer hadn't sent you the papers was because I thought we could work it out. I cleared my schedule. We need time together.” Paul held up the phone. “And then I find these."

  I turned, lunged for the door, and yanked it open.

  Paul shoved it closed and stood behind me. He pressed his body into me. His breath hot on the back of my neck.

  "No. I told you. This ends now." He growled.

  I cringed away.

  He held me in place with his body, his hands anchored on either side of me.

  "You're not going anywhere," he whispered as he pressed his nose against the side of my neck and inhaled.

  "Paul, please let me go," I cried.

  "Nope. You're not going anywhere." He kissed me on the shoulder.

  I groaned as bile rose in my throat.

  Paul dropped his hands. He stepped back, giving me a bit of space.

  I inhaled and turned around to face him.

  "Is this what you really want?" Paul averted his eyes and rubbed his face. "To be humiliated and degraded. Is that what makes you feel loved?"

  "You don't understand," I said.

  "You're right about that. I don't." Paul shook his head. "You are going to stop seeing Harrison you disgusting piece of trash, and we're going to work this out. You may be a liar and a cheater and disgust me with your sexual proclivities, but I'm willing to work on it for the sake of our marriage, our future, and our kids."

  He turned away from the door and walked back into the apartment.

  I kept my back against the door. His insults hurt my heart.

  "Kids?" My throat hitched. "I'm not staying with you."

  Paul spun around and slid toward me.

  I flattened myself against the door.

  "Yes, you are because if you don't, I'll tell Harrison's father, his family, what he is. I'll tell them how he goes into the homes of sweet, innocent women"—Paul caressed my face—"and brainwashes them and beats them and fucks them."

  I turned away.

  "How he has to tie a woman up and hit her to get off. I'll show them the text messages. I'll tell them everything. And you know what? It will ruin him. It will ruin you, too." Paul bowed his head.

  "You can't do that," I whispered. My voice was gone.

  "I will." He stood in front of me, too close. He leaned in to kiss me.

  I turned my head.

  Paul ran his hand under my dress between my legs. The back of his hand rubbed against my pussy.

  Instead of pushing his hand away, I reached up and with all my strength, hit him in the face.

  He stumbled backward as his hand flew up. He glared, his face immediately turned red where I hit him.

  He turned away.

  I sighed.

  The sound rang in my ears before his hand connected.

  The back of his hand landed on my cheek, and the pain exploded behind my eye. One second, I was standing, and the next, I was on the ground. My hands shielded my face as I curled my legs under me.

  "Fuck." Paul cursed under his breath. He knelt down beside me.

  "You don't leave this apartment unless I tell you to. You don't talk to anyone without my permission." Paul leaned down and pushed my hair away from my face. "You are mine, and I'm not going to let you go. Do you understand me?"

  I looked up at him through blurred vision and anger that made my body sweat and my stomach roll.

  "Say you understand," he said.

  I nodded.

  Paul touched my shoulder, and I shrugged it off.

  He stood up and walked toward the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway.

  "This should be a lot of fun for you, baby. After all, you get off on men telling you what to do." Paul grinned, wiggled his eyebrows, and left the room.

  Harrison

  "Why are you so antsy?" Justin asked.

  "I'm not." I pressed on my right leg to keep it from bouncing. We boarded the private jet early, and I was looking forward to getting back to Brooklyn. She didn't answer her phone last night or this morning, and it bothered me.

  "You'll be home with your woman in no time." Justin slapped me on my back.

  I tried to relax. I closed my eyes and pictured her. The smile she would have on her face would be worth it. I had a special day planned. I would go to the house and make sure my guys had set up her office correctly. I told her not to pick me up from the airport because Leanne's baby shower was today. It would be over by four o'clock, and I planned to have her naked and strapped to my special chair by five.

  When we landed, I sent her a text. Again, no response.

  I drove over to my apartment, changed, and grabbed some stuff. I headed over to the house. It was perfect. I owed the guys a bonus for getting the stuff done in record time.

  The place was almost move-in ready. It needed some final touches, Brooklyn's final touches and furniture. We needed more than a wooden chair and a custom made bondage bed.

  I checked my watch and my phone every few minutes. I couldn't i
magine why she wouldn't call or text me back.

  I drove over to Highland Park Village. We had planned to meet at a burger place she loved so much. I hoped she wouldn't mind. We were getting it to go.

  "Hey, Harrison." The hostess greeted me. "You want a table."

  "No. I'll wait at the bar. Brooklyn should be here any minute." I took the steps up to the bar, two at a time.

  "Okay. I'll tell her where to find you." She nodded.

  "Thanks."

  I sat at the bar and sipped a beer, flipping through my phone. Maybe it needed a reboot. I turned it off and then turned it back on. When it came back on . . . nothing. No calls, no messages.

  I inhaled and exhaled. I was overreacting. She was at the party, enjoying herself.

  I knew Brooklyn missed me, too.

  She didn't want me to go.

  I couldn't go all caveman on her and drag her from the party. She was my sub, but in some situations, I had to remember she was also my girlfriend who had a life and a job and responsibilities.

  I fucking hated it, but it was reality.

  I finished my beer, telling myself to take my time and not look at my phone. When I picked it up again, she was ten minutes late.

  I ordered another beer and drank it.

  I looked at my watch; she was thirty minutes late.

  After thirty-five minutes, I pushed myself away from the bar and headed out the door. It took effort to stop my brain from playing worse case scenario. I jumped in my SUV.

  I drove to Leanne's house, telling myself to calm down. I pulled up to the curb and surveyed the cars on the street. Brooklyn's little Lexus wasn't among them.

  I spotted Leanne at her front door, hugging one of her guests as they left. At least, I wasn't crashing the party.

  I tried not to run up the circular driveway.

  "Hey, Harrison," she said as she leaned up and hugged me. I hugged her back, careful not to disturb her protruding belly.

  "Hey, Leanne." I stepped back a few feet.

  Leanne rested her hands on her stomach.

  I wanted to barge in and start yelling Brooklyn's name. "How was the shower?"

  "It was awesome. You should see my haul." She grinned.

  "Is Brooklyn still here?"

  "Oh." She pouted. "No. She couldn't make it. She said she came down with something, and she didn't want to risk the baby or me getting sick."