Her Dirty Little Secret

by JC Harroway

  He shrugged, slotting his fingers between hers. ‘It’s not anyone else’s business but ours.’ He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing each knuckle in turn.

  Her eyes darted away and his gut churned. Was she still worried what her family thought? Still keen to keep him a sordid secret?

  ‘I... I need to tell you something.’ She wouldn’t look at him, her eyes flitting anywhere else. Her lip took another punishment from her teeth and Jack released her hand to cup her face. He sucked in a breath, wishing for a do-over on the morning.

  When she did look up, he stopped breathing.

  ‘Remember that last holiday in Aspen?’ Barely a whisper.

  His mind scrambled to keep up but he offered a curt nod. Why was she going there? He needed to relive that year of his life like he needed root canal. And now, with his brain already trying to make sense of what had changed in him...

  ‘I...’

  ‘Harley...’ She was ending this. Again. Just when his feelings had emerged from hiding.

  She shook her head, determined. ‘I hurt you, but I want to explain why.’

  He squeezed her fingers.

  ‘That’s ancient history.’ He’d been a naïve kid—all hormones, wearing his heart on his sleeve. He clenched his jaw. He didn’t need the reminder.

  She nodded, expression sombre. ‘But the press has a way of...unearthing things. And I... I don’t want to keep secrets from you any more.’

  Hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention. He released her hand and climbed from the bed, his limbs impatient for activity.

  Secrets? He jerked on his pants and shirt. Whatever she had to tell him, he needed some armour. The weight of her confused stare, guilty and hurt, dragged at his shoulders.

  ‘Tell me, then.’ He faced her, his skin crawling as if he were trying to climb out of his own body.

  Her eyes filled with a sheen of moisture. ‘Your mother and my father had an affair. I saw them together. In Aspen.’

  What. The. Fuck.

  He speared his hair with his fingers, gripping tight while he paced the room, too restless to stand still. Too shocked to stop his thoughts spinning.

  ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ Memories bounced around inside his skull with dizzying speed, churning his stomach.

  She shook her head, her gaze dipping to the comforter.

  An affair? All these years he’d assumed it was the financial impact of the bad business decisions, which began with the aborted deal with Jacob Holdings, that had put a strain on his parents’ marriage. But on top of everything else, he’d been lied to, deceived.

  His fists curled until the bones of his hands ached. Anger, white hot, pounded him. At Harley. At Hal. At his parents. And the lion’s share for himself. Fuck...so stupid. She’d kept this from him. Then and now.

  He’d been a stupid kid nine years ago; a trusting besotted fool. And now? He’d convinced himself he was safe from the kind of pain he’d witnessed diminishing the man his father had been to the broken version who’d almost lost everything. But, like an idiot, he’d slipped up, lowered his guard, developed...feelings for Harley.

  ‘You knew? All this time? And you said nothing.’ Too much energy pounded through him. His voice scraped his throat raw, emerging eerily calm. She’d played him. He’d confided in her his concerns for Isabel, told her the origin—his parents’ marital implosion. And all the time she’d known a major contributing factor in that divorce.

  She pulled the front of the robe tighter across her chest, her hands clutching the opening.

  ‘I was a kid. Shocked, horrified by what I’d seen, confused. I was too ashamed, too scared to tell anyone, to make trouble.’ She snorted. ‘I’d been in enough trouble with Hal back then.’

  Fuck Hal...couldn’t she see she’d never get his approval until she stopped seeking it and believed in herself?

  ‘So you said nothing? You kept Hal’s secret. And you’re still keeping it?’ He sat on the foot of the bed, shoving his feet into socks and shoes, unable to look at her.

  ‘Jack...’

  He turned on her, frustration spilling free, his control reaching breaking point. ‘All these weeks, all the time we’ve spent together—you couldn’t have told me?’

  ‘What good would it have done?’ Her stare searched his beseechingly. ‘I didn’t want to hurt you. Didn’t want to damage your relationship with your mother.’

  ‘So why today?’

  She pinned him with her stare and for a second his chest, which had been encased in concrete, expanded.

  ‘I... I’m done with hiding Hal’s actions. Why should I, we, carry the legacy of our parents’ choices?’

  Her words filtered through the fog in his mind, making sense. But the rock in the pit of his stomach left a bad taste behind. Too little too late? He scrubbed his face. He needed time to think.

  He retrieved his jacket from the chair and reached for her phone, tossing it onto the bed before her.

  ‘You hate Hal’s choices so much? Careful you don’t become just like him, chérie.’

  Her stunned expression and shocked silence escorted him from the room but the emotion snapping at his heels... That smacked of fear.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THREE DAYS LATER Harley stepped into the bright, welcoming kitchen of her childhood home and embraced her twin sister, Hannah, clinging for a few seconds too long, absorbing unspoken and unconditional comfort. They’d always been close, despite a lifetime spent hearing Hal point out their differences. It could have driven a wedge between them, but this was one relationship Harley refused to allow Hal to influence.

  She’d had no contact from Jack since she’d made her confession. She’d tried to avoid it, but she’d hurt him anyway, as she’d predicted. But, she hadn’t wanted to keep the secret from him for one second longer. She’d fallen in love with him and the deeper she fell, the heavier the burden of her silence.

  Respecting his wishes, giving him time, destroyed her. Each second she didn’t hear from him ticked like a bomb in her head. How much time would he need? And would she break before then, rush to him, spill other confessions she suspected he wasn’t ready to hear? Especially now she’d been the bearer of such devastating news.

  Dulcie kissed both her daughter’s cheeks and handed Harley a mimosa before joining Ash and Hannah at the island where they shared The New York Times. Weekend brunch had become a Jacob tradition. If they missed a week, Dulcie complained about their lack of commitment to family time. And despite the newspaper spread over the marble counters, business discussions at the table were strictly prohibited.

  She had no good news on that front. The Morris deal, like the rest of her relationship with Jack, hung in the balance. The only communication she’d received from his office a set of plans for the renovations, emailed by Trent.

  Ash glanced up from the article he read.

  ‘Dad wants to see you.’ Worry dulled his eyes, forcing Harley’s stomach to twist. She gulped the delicious mimosa. In her experience, nothing good ever came after sentences that began that way.

  ‘What about?’ Had Hal seen the photo of her and Jack leaving the restaurant together on the day of her birthday?

  Three blank faces greeted her, eyes sympathetic. Whatever he wanted, she was on her own. And she could guess.

  ‘He’s in the office,’ said Ash.

  ‘Here, take him one of these,’ said Dulcie, squeezing Harley’s shoulders and then handing her a second mimosa, ‘and tell him brunch will be ready in five minutes.’ Harley reluctantly left the family room in search of Hal, steeling herself against the inevitable criticism to come.

  The minute she stepped across the threshold her hackles rose. The day of reckoning had arrived. She placed his drink on the desk.

  ‘Mum said brunch in five.’

  ‘Sit down, Harley.’

&
nbsp; She sighed, old demons surfacing. She rolled her shoulders back.

  ‘I’ll stand. You wanted to talk about something?’ If she stayed on her feet, she could leave quicker. Her scalp prickled, just as it had as a kid when she’d got a particularly bad grade or had been called to the principal’s office for ‘wasting time’ or ‘daydreaming’.

  Hal pursed his lips in that way that conveyed his displeasure. It had terrified her as a girl, when she’d first realised she was different from her siblings, and crushed her as a tender teen, when his excuses for her poor academic performance had cut deeper than his outright criticism.

  But now it simply irked her. She was no longer that kid, desperate for his approval, desperate to be valued like her older, successful, conforming siblings.

  Hal jumped straight in. No preamble.

  ‘I hear you’re in business with Jack Lane, or Demont as he goes by these days.’

  She pressed her lips together. She had no intention of justifying herself. She shrugged. Evasion in a tight spot—he’d taught her that.

  But he wasn’t giving up.

  ‘Dammit, Harley. That family has no drive, no instincts when it comes to business. Why would you get involved with him of all people? It’s bad enough that you’re wasting your money on that derelict piece of real estate.’

  Harley bit and then released her tongue. She shouldn’t have to defend herself. Or Jack. Who was Hal to judge others?

  ‘I refuse to live my life based on some ancient deal that turned sour for you. Jack Demont has built a very successful global brand. And who I choose to do business with is really none of your concern.’

  ‘Of all the men in Manhattan...’ The rant continued as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘And messing around with...a school? Really? The number of opportunities you’ve squandered.’

  ‘Opportunities?’ She bit back a sardonic laugh. ‘I want to build a school so kids, like the kid I was, have a safe environment to learn. One where they’re understood and encouraged, their skills nurtured, their challenges overcome not belittled.’

  His mouth formed a thin line.

  ‘I did my best for you, Harley.’

  She snorted. If that was his best...

  ‘By denying my learning difficulty? By postponing the diagnostic testing? By ignoring the fact your youngest daughter was an isolated, lonely kid struggling both at school and home—a place where she should have found encouragement and acceptance?’

  ‘You’re not a child any more. I’m talking about you messing around with your projects. I thought when you and Phil got engaged that you’d be married by now, have a couple of kids...’

  She didn’t even bother defending her aborted engagement, a relationship based on trying to be a daughter he could be proud of.

  ‘You’re right. I’m twenty-six years old. I no longer seek, nor need your approval. And I’ve created my own opportunities, ones that suit me.’

  He stared, long and hard. Harley prepared to leave, done with this pointless conversation. And she should thank him—this reckoning was long overdue. She practically hovered off the floor with the lightness finally confronting him brought.

  ‘Are you...personally involved with him, too?’ His lips puckered, tight and disapproving. ‘It certainly looked that way from the photos. The Lanes have a reputation—be a little more discreet.’

  Reputation? Well, if that wasn’t the pot calling the kettle... She’d stayed silent all these years, protected his reputation out of some misguided need to gain her father’s approval.

  Harley swallowed bile, her body flooding with scalding heat. Jack was right. She’d inadvertently kept him her dirty little secret out of loyalty to a man with only half his scruples. Half her scruples. And Hal’s respect wasn’t worth having.

  She lowered her voice to a hiss the others wouldn’t hear. ‘Are you seriously giving me relationship advice?’

  Hal’s nostrils flared. A sure sign of his rising temper. This wasn’t going his way.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘I know about you and Amalie Lane.’

  Hal curled his lip as if he’d tasted something foul. ‘You can’t trust anything the Lanes say. That’s why I advise against getting involved with one of them.’

  ‘I saw you together, Father.’

  Realisation dawned. Hal had the good grace to turn puce and look away. So the mighty Hal was fallible after all.

  He leaned back in his chair, the inscrutable mask he wore most of the time firmly back in place. He stared for so long she almost squirmed before him. But those days were over.

  ‘Have you told anyone?’ She’d never seen him so cold, so calculating. The last veil slipped from her eyes.

  ‘I told Jack.’

  He snorted, shaking his head as he did when he was frustrated with her.

  ‘Well, that explains why he wants to see me—’

  ‘Wait, what?’ She braced her palms flat on the desk. Jack had approached her father? Why? Did he plan to confront him over the affair?

  ‘You didn’t know? So he has his secrets, too?’ A flash of mischief sparked in Hal’s eyes, and Harley realised her mistake.

  Show no weakness.

  Harley’s mind spun, but one fact emerged, time and time again. She trusted Jack. Whatever his reasons, they’d be sound, measured, fair. A polar opposite of her father—perhaps the reason she’d fallen in love with him.

  ‘Why did you tell him? Making trouble?’ Hal’s eyes darted to the door behind her.

  She sighed, checking the clock and calculating how long it would take her to get to Jack’s apartment through Sunday morning traffic.

  ‘I told him because I’m in love with him. He’s a good man, an honourable man. If he wants me, I must be good enough.’

  Did he still want her? It was too much to hope he reciprocated her feelings, but she was ready to give him her trust. Give him everything she’d held back.

  Hal scoffed.

  Harley saw red.

  ‘I know I don’t stack up against Ash and Hannah. I never have. But guess what? I no longer need your approval. I’m successful as measured by my own yardstick. My foundation donated over ten million dollars to charities last year. In three months, my dyslexia school will be open to all, not just to those who can afford the tuition fees, and Jack Demont is helping me to build it. We may not have the cut-throat business acumen you value, but what we do makes a difference to someone other than ourselves. Can you say that?’

  At his stunned silence, she turned on her heel and glided out of the room, lighter than air.

  So what if words and numbers jumped on the page before her eyes and she struggled to memorise lists? She would never do well in formal testing or enjoy reading for pleasure. But she’d built something from nothing. Something worthwhile, with her own hands.

  It was time to believe in herself.

  With her heart hammering against her ribs, she stepped back into the family room, crying off brunch with an invented headache that threatened to become a reality as her euphoria dwindled and Jack’s hurt expression reappeared before her eyes.

  So she’d had a realisation—that didn’t mean Jack was ready to forgive her or that he shared her feelings.

  Dulcie walked her out, shrewd eyes apologetic. ‘I’m looking forward to your show tonight.’

  Harley winced. She’d barely given any thought to the catwalk show, part of New York Fashion Week. She nodded feebly, her head still full of Jack and tracking him down. Offering him another explanation...even begging, if required.

  Dulcie paused at the door and stroked Harley’s shoulder. ‘I love this sweater. One of yours?’

  Harley nodded, too distracted to answer.

  A sigh. ‘I know what he’s like.’

  Her mother gripped Harley’s fingers. ‘Don’t take any notice of the old fool—I haven’t
for years.’ Dulcie’s intelligent eyes pierced Harley.

  Harley’s stomach flopped. ‘You know, don’t you?’

  Dulcie’s eyes flicked away.

  All these years Harley had been keeping the worst-kept secret. Her throat burned, making her eyes water. She’d even allowed the knowledge of Hal’s infidelity to shape her own relationships, tainting her authenticity through fear, shame and cynicism. And, most importantly, she’d jeopardised what she’d found with Jack—the most real thing she’d ever had. But was it too late to redeem?

  ‘I had no idea you knew, darling. I wanted to protect all of you.’ Dulcie fingered her immaculate hair.

  ‘Well, you didn’t. I may not have the correct diploma on my wall, but I’m an intelligent woman. He’s your husband. It’s your business that you stood by him. But until you’re ready to take me, my career, seriously, perhaps it’s best if you stay away from my show.’

  Ignoring the flare of anger and then hurt in her mother’s eyes, Harley left, her stomach rolling but her spirit free.

  With renewed energy and sense of purpose, she hurried down to the street and gave directions to her driver, her head full of one thing only—Jack.

  Could she persuade him that what they had surpassed ordinary? That the foundations were solid enough to build upon, if that was what he wanted? That she was a Jacob and he a Lane, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t break free of the choices their respective parents had made? Be themselves? Free to trust in something as delicate as gossamer on the surface but shot with threads of steel?

  At his building, she raced to his floor, forgoing the elevator and arriving out of breath for more than one reason. Her knuckles stung as she rapped on his door, the frantic rhythm matching her thundering heart.

  Seconds stretched to hours. Harley sagged at the knees when the door swung open, everything she wanted to say backed up on her lips, ready to spill free.

  Her face fell.

  Her heart dropped like a stone. Her mouth clamped shut.

  Too late.

  A beautiful, petite brunette stood in Jack’s doorway looking perfectly at home.

  * * *