His Sword

by Holly Hart

  Just as I’m about to leave my office and head to Skye’s the phone on my desk rings. Unfortunately, it’s not my beautiful girl on the other end, this time. I think about not picking it up, but I haven’t changed that much. Wolfe Capital’s still my baby, and as long as I’m in charge, I won’t be able to tear myself away.

  “What is it?” I grumble.

  “Hey boss,” Jennifer says anxiously. “Sorry to interrupt –”

  “You’re my assistant,” I say, relenting – and softening my tone – so that she knows I’m not mad with her, just the interruption. “It’s not interrupting when you do it.”

  “Um, okay then,” Jen says, hissing with relief. “I’ve got a Mister, uh, Garibaldi, on the line. He says you’ll want to talk to him, and, I guess he had this number, so…” She tails off.

  I know why. I told her if this particular gentleman was ever to call, she had to put him straight through, no questions asked.

  My blood runs cold as Jen’s information hits home. I lean back in my chair and suck fresh air through my front teeth. What the hell does this mean? If Garibaldi is calling me now, then today is going to turn into a really bad day.

  Why would he ring me now, after all this time?

  I made him his money. The deal was he’d leave me alone. But apparently the terms of that deal have changed.

  “Boss –?”

  I snap back to reality, realizing that I haven’t said anything in a few seconds. I know that Garibaldi isn’t a man who will take a cold shoulder from me lightly. In the circles he runs in, loyalty is prized above everything.

  But I don’t have any other choice. There are some things in life that are more important than money – a lot more, and Skye Warren is one of them.

  I made a promise, and I’m not going to be late.

  “Tell him I’ll call him back…” I say, thinking it through slowly. My teeth scrape across my lower lip as I practically wince with the pain I know this decision is going to bring down upon me, “…Tomorrow.”

  “But – ”

  “Jen, he can wait.”

  I step out of my limousine a block away from Skye’s flat. I waved my driver to stop after I saw a small flower stall manned by a single old lady. Honestly, it’s not the kind of place that I would ordinarily shop in, but I think – know – that Skye will prefer it this way.

  “That’ll be eight seventy-five,” the kindly florist says, smiling at me as she hands me a bunch of long-stemmed daisies. Simple, but elegant.

  The woman must be in her mid-60s, but she’s got a twinkle in her eye as she asks: “I imagine a good-looking young man like you must have a hot date tonight?”

  “You could say that,” I grin, handing over a twenty. “But I’m nothing, you should see her!”

  She nods. “You’re like my husband. Never could take a compliment, bless his soul.”

  “You just got to keep trying,” I wink, waving away the change from my bill. “Keep it.”

  “Oh, thank you, young man,” the wrinkled florist says, her eyes witnessing a kindness. “But my Frank’s been dead a couple of years now. The cigarettes took him.”

  “I’m – I’m so sorry,” I reply. “I wish –”

  “Don’t fret,” she says, shaking her head and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “You couldn’t have known an old woman’s sorrows, could you?”

  “I guess not,” I say softly. I really feel like I’ve wedged my foot about as far into my mouth as it will fit.

  She shoos me away, flicking her fingers good-naturedly. I get the sense the old lady is feeling about as awkward with her sudden display of emotion as I am.

  “Now go on, don’t let an old woman bring you down. Go see that lovely lady of yours. And loosen your tie, will you? You look like you’re heading to a funeral!”

  “Thanks for the advice…”

  I smile, and make my departure, finger reaching for my knotted necktie. I get a flash into my future, and hope that Skye and I get to live an equally long, happy life with each other. Then I wonder how I would cope if she was snatched from me, like the florist’s Frank…

  … or Ashley.

  Easy there, tiger.

  How am I thinking that far ahead already? I’ve only known Skye what, a few days? However, I’m already picturing this white picket fence future for us – a happily ever after, when we haven’t even had our happy for now.

  A harried-looking businessman rushes past me in a fifty dollar suit, with an arm full of papers that threatens to scatter in a cloud behind him. I have a bright idea.

  “Hey!” I yell, flagging him down. “Stop.”

  He squints at me, his face lined with stress. “Did I drop something?” He asks, looking around wildly, as if expecting to see a flurry of paper flying out in a trail behind him.

  My fingers loosen my tie knot, and I pull it off my neck, holding it out toward him in offering. “Friendly piece of advice, buddy – dress for the job you want, not the one you’ve got.”

  The man glances down sheepishly, looking at his ill-fitting suit – at the way the hem of his pants swallows up his square-toed dress shoes hole, instead of breaking neatly on top.

  “What are you?” He mutters, “Some kind of Brooks Brothers Santa Claus?”

  I struggle to contain a laugh.

  The businessman squints at me, rearranging the stack of papers swaddled in his arms. I see the gears of recognition turning over in his mind, “Hey,” he says. “I know you.”

  I shake my head and start to turn away. “Not today, buddy,” I reply.

  “No – you’re that guy! Wait – do you have any advice for me? It’s just, I’m in a bad spot, and –”

  I spin back and toss the necktie toward my unexpected confidant. It flies through the air like a gymnastics ribbon, and lands neatly on the man’s shoulders.

  “I gave it to you, buddy. Dress for the job you want. Then you might want to think about making the new you match the way you dress, inside as well as out. Think about it.”

  A few minutes later I turn up outside of Skye’s front door at precisely 7 o’clock on the dot. Not a minute early, not a minute late. I realize that I’m so desperate to see her I’m almost trembling.

  It’s a good sign, I guess. It’s my gut telling me I made the right decision by following my heart.

  I ring Skye’s doorbell, and hear the tinkle as it rings out in her apartment. A second later, I hear a squeal, and the sound of running feet – first heading one way, then the other, as though she’s panicking about what to do next.

  I hear the slamming of a closet door, and then a rumbling, thudding noise as she tosses something – or things – inside.

  And then, finally, after I’ve been waiting there at least a couple of minutes, Skye finally opens her front door.

  “You’re early!” She spurts, a few strands of her hair flying messily around her face. “I’ve barely even started –”

  I take a step forward and kiss her on the lips, and cut off her complaint at the source. Who cares if Skye’s got dinner ready yet, or cleaned her apartment? That’s not why I’m here, after all.

  I pull back, and let a teasing grin play out across my lips. “Well – are you going to let your boyfriend in, or not?”

  I press the daisies into Skye’s startled chest, dance around her, and step inside her apartment.

  “Boyf –?”

  I paste an innocent expression on my face. “Yeah, that’s right, isn’t it? I mean, it is your apartment?”

  Skye’s quickly beginning to look like she’s stepped into a hurricane, so I decide to relent. “I’m kidding, Skye.”

  Kinda.

  She lets out a deep breath. “Okay,” she sighs. Then she frowns. “Wait! About what – which part?”

  I cock my head to one side, and let my eyes play out across her face. God, she’s even hotter when she’s flustered. I want to pin her against a wall right now, and take her while the door’s wide open, for everybody to see.

  I won
der if she’d let me?

  “Did you just say boyfriend?” Skye presses me. “Because I’m pretty sure that’s what I heard.”

  I pick an imaginary hair out of the corner of my eye, and prolong the silence before I finally answer, just to mess with Skye’s head. Then I fix her with a stare directly into her eyes.

  “Well, you did give me a blow job on my private jet, after all. What would you call it?”

  Skye’s face burns bright red, and I half expect her to start whistling like a kettle. I can’t help but smirk.

  “Well,” she exclaims. “If you’re going to throw it in my face like that, maybe –”

  “As I recall,” I remark dryly. “I was pretty restrained. I didn’t throw anything in your face… more’s the pity.”

  Skye’s face goes sour at the memory. “Apparently you’re not going to let me forget it…”

  “Well,” I grin. “You know what they say – the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” I sniffed the air. “And that smells like some mighty fine cooking…”

  Skye stares at me for a couple of seconds, as though she’s unsure whether to kiss me, or kick me straight out where I came from.

  Thankfully for me, and my stomach, she chooses option three, glancing down at the daisies still pressed against her stomach.

  “I guess I better get these in water…” She says, relenting. And then she looks up at me, a small smile playing out on her face. “Thank you – it’s been a long time since a man has brought me flowers.”

  “Any time, princess,” I smile.

  “Oh,” she smiles. “Flattery will get you everywhere with me. Now sit down – and could you do something for me?”

  I half bow, and smile winningly back at her. “Anything for you.”

  Skye grins slyly. “In that case, sit down, and keep your mouth shut!”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Skye

  It’s like having our first “date”, all over again.

  Only this time is different. Harlan’s different. Most of all, I’m different. I think I’ve spent too many years thinking that I was somehow unworthy, that I didn’t deserve a man’s attention, let alone his desire.

  Harlan’s showing me how untrue that thought is.

  How ridiculous it always was!

  He makes me light up just by glancing at me, and I think I have the same effect on him! So, since he’s the most gorgeous, charming, witty, intelligent – and a million other superlatives besides – man that I’ve ever met, that’s one hell of a compliment!

  “You’ve got to tell me,” I say, kicking Harlan’s shin underneath my apartment’s tiny dining room table.

  Heck, it’s not a table at all, really. Though, having searched for a New York apartment once or twice before, I’m not surprised that some realtor decided it was. The tiny plank of wood probably added a hundred bucks to the rent!

  “You know I can’t,” Harlan grins, his face lighting up with the deviousness of his secret. “Half the fun’s in the surprise…”

  “Give me a clue at least! Don’t I deserve that?”

  Harlan shakes his head, and growls at me, before falling silent. “You deserve a whole lot more. But,” he winks, “that still doesn’t mean I’m going to give it to you…”

  Ever since we got back from California, my brain’s been alive with possibility. I know that whatever Harlan’s got planned for me – whatever he’s planning to do to me – it’s going to test every boundary I’ve ever held dear.

  “But you’re not going to tell me, are you?” I ask, pushing my plate around the tiny ‘table’.

  Harlan shakes his head.

  “Hell no,” he chuckles.

  “I want you thinking about it every waking minute, and dreaming about it from the moment you lay your head down on the pillow to the second you wake up. I want you tense. I want you nervous. I want you to be freaking out, because the more you do that, the less –”

  “The less I’m in control,” I say, finishing Harlan’s sentence for him. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” I say, with the makings of a smile on my face, so he knows it’s not heartfelt.

  “It’s been said,” Harlan shrugs, “from time to time. I prefer to say that I’m forward thinking, innovative, even.”

  He leans forward, resting his elbow on the table, and strokes my cheek. “And believe me, Skye – getting you to come is going to involve real blue sky thinking.”

  I glance down, ducking away from Harlan’s gaze. Somehow I feel like the heat’s been turned up in here.

  “Don’t I know it,” I mutter.

  Harlan’s tone of voice, changes, becomes more serious. “What’s wrong?” He says.

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  “What if it doesn’t work?” I say, so quietly it’s almost under my breath, voicing my newest, deepest fear.

  “What if this plan of yours – whatever it is,” I say with a weak laugh, “is no better than any of the million things I have tried in the past. Heck, I’ve got a box of toys that’s practically bigger than this table, and none of them were worth a damn…”

  Harlan’s eyes light up. “My, my, my; you’ve got more layers to you than you let on, don’t you?”

  I frown. “Like an onion…”

  Harlan shakes his head. “That couldn’t be further from the truth,” he says softly. “You shouldn’t put yourself down. Hell, you know what I do?”

  It’s my turn to shake my head. My head dances left and right like sparks flying as a hammer strikes an anvil.

  “I think big, Skye. I never put myself down. I shoot for the stars, because even if I end up miles off course, at least I’ll land on the moon.”

  “Yeah – and that works for you,” I mutter, “Because you’re Harlan Wolfe! Who am I? Just some little girl with a fucked up family and –”

  “Enough, Skye,” Harlan says, cutting across me harshly. My eyes spring open wide, and I notice a look of disappointment – maybe even hurt – on his face.

  “Do you think I sprang out of the womb with twenty billion dollars in my back pocket?” Harlan asks gruffly.

  I eye him sullenly. I know that Harlan – no matter how he might seem to the rest of the world – isn’t a boastful man. I don’t know why he’s bringing up his wealth, but I know he’s doing it to make a point.

  But that doesn’t mean I want to hear it.

  I bite my lip. “No,” I mutter, relenting.

  “No,” Harlan says – more softly, now. “It was a fucking struggle, Skye. I left the military what, almost a decade ago?”

  I nod.

  “I played the markets a bit, when I was still in. More as a game, than anything. It helped to relieve to boredom and pass the time on base.” Harlan’s eyes flicker half-closed.

  It’s as if he’s reliving a memory or, perhaps, something that’s been bugging him all day. I don’t know why, but that’s the sense that I get from looking at him. I feel like this speech has been rehearsed inside his head – whether consciously, or not…

  “When I left the Navy, I threw all my savings…” his voice catches, but he pushes past it. “Ashley’s death benefits, everything into an account, and I tripled it inside a quarter. Other than giving Poppy the best life she could ever ask for, spending every hour that she was awake with her, I only thought about the markets. Hot stocks, commodities – you name it, I was all over it.”

  I stay quiet. I feel like this isn’t just about resolving my issues. Harlan’s working through something as well.

  “And when the guys in my old squad noticed how well I was doing, they gave me their savings to manage as well. Before long, I was trading half of SOCOM’s pension fund! That was how Wolfe Capital got started, you know?”

  “SOCOM?”

  “Oh – special operations command. Back then, after just a couple of years, we had almost a hundred million dollars in assets under management.”

  I don’t know what to say, but I figure Harlan’s l
ooking for some kind of response. “That’s a lot.”

  That’s a lot? Jesus, Skye – could you be more vapid?

  “It’s nothing. Little League shit. When you play down there, one bad day can ruin you. I knew I needed to get here,” Harlan gestures around the room, barely seeming to see me, “to Wall Street.”

  “Well, you made it,” I smile, reaching out and stroking Harlan’s cheek. I don’t know why he’s so worked up, but it feels nice to help share the load.

  “Yeah,” Harlan says, biting his lip anxiously. “I made it. But I had to make a deal with the devil to get here…”

  I don’t know how to respond to that. I frown. “The devil –?” I ask.

  Harlan cuts himself off, grimacing, as though he’s said too much. “It doesn’t matter. I got a phone call at work, that’s all. It was just a bit of bad news.”

  I feel like it’s more than just “a bit of bad news,” yet I don’t want to pry. Whatever this thing is between Harlan and me, it’s new. New enough that one wrong move might risk it all.

  And I couldn’t bear that.

  “If you want to talk about it…” I say.

  Harlan’s – now tense – face breaks into a sudden smile. “I know,” he sighs. “You’re here.”

  I grin. “No, that’s not what I was going to say, not at all. I’m done playing at being your therapist, Harlan.”

  He grins back. “But you never were, right? Not technically, anyway.”

  “Right,” I say, kicking myself for the hundredth time. “We made a deal.”

  I can’t believe I actually let myself get entangled with my boss. No matter what kind of disclaimer we put our names to, I’m old enough to know it is one hell of a conflict of interest and a real ethics bender.

  I still can’t believe it worked out so well…

  “I’m going to make good on it,” Harlan promises, “Tomorrow.”

  My eyes widen. “Wait – you mean?”

  Harlan nods, smiling mysteriously. “My lips are sealed, Skye. You know that.”

  “If your lips were sealed,” I splutter, “you wouldn’t have told me anything at all!”

  Harlan shrugs. “Blame the contract,” he says. “You never did get it looked at by a lawyer, did you?”