His eyes narrowed. “But?”
All along he’d been honest with her, so she gave him the same. “I always thought I’d go crazy with worry. We met after you were stabbed for goodness sake. It makes sense that I’d be terrified that could happen again. I told you that when you left my place. But I think I could handle that better… I could handle worrying about you being hurt easier than I could handle the idea of you falling for another woman.”
Searching her eyes, he didn’t respond for a score of seconds. “You think we’d get together and then I’d fall for another woman and abandon you?” Though she didn’t say it out right, she lifted one shoulder and closed her eyes in a slow blink of acceptance. “Like my mom you mean?”
That changed her confidence and clarified his anger for her. Making assumptions about the kind of man he was hurt him. Especially when those assumptions clashed with the thing he hated most about one of his parents.
“I didn’t mean—”
“You don’t think that maybe that’s why I don’t make those promises?” he asked. “You were special. You were something real to me, something tangible. In a world full of bullshit. You were real. My Trinket… I told you I couldn’t make you promises… but, fuck, I was close, baby… Shit, I was rethinking my whole damn life for you.”
Numbness hollowed her out. “All of that was past tense.”
He was shaking his head in a shallow arc, looking into her like he didn’t recognize her. “If you think I’m capable of that… If you think I’m the type of guy who would make you a promise, a for real promise, and then break it for the next piece of ass I touched… Shit, baby, you don’t have a damn clue who I am.”
His words stopped. Like he couldn’t look at her anymore, he turned and walked away, never once looking back.
She’d offended him. No, she’d hurt him. Confessing the truth of his parentage to her probably hadn’t been easy for him. Harlow had heard the words as he’d said them, but had failed to absorb what they meant to his psyche and how they’d shaped who he was.
Ryske was a professional. He understood the difference between pretend for professional sake and real in his personal life. That was why he was so adamant about what he would and wouldn’t say to her. Harlow wasn’t professional to him. If she was, he’d say anything to her to get what he wanted, even if it was just sex.
She’d been personal.
Ryske, her Crash, would only be with a woman in his real personal life if she understood he was hers completely, even in spite of the professional bullshit.
He hadn’t made her a promise. If he had, it wouldn’t have mattered how many females he touched for the job, how many he seduced, he’d always come home to her, always love her.
Harlow watched him go until she couldn’t see him anymore and didn’t even notice the cold air biting into her skin. He’d accused her of abandoning the crew as soon as she’d gotten what she wanted. But, after how things had just ended, there was no way she could never see them again.
She had to fix this. She just didn’t know how.
16
The idea that she had to fix things with Ryske stayed with Harlow until the next day at work.
Calling wasn’t an option; she didn’t have a direct number for him. Floyd’s was probably in the book. Even though the bar wouldn’t be open yet, she took a guess that Dover or Maze or someone would be around to pick up.
Except a phone call wouldn’t be enough.
Dumb as it was given the barriers she kept putting up between them, all Harlow could think about was how much she wanted to be lying next to Ryske, tracing the outlines on his inked skin with her fingernails. If he’d let her get that close, she’d be able to beg his forgiveness.
But if she did get that close, he’d want more, and her actions had given him the perfect excuse to demand it of her. Demand and submit. Command and yield. They weren’t accurate descriptors for what she had with Ryske. What she had with him was different from anything that she’d had with any man before.
Harlow had discovered that she liked it when there was hurt involved… of the physical variety anyway. There was something alluring about feeling in control when Ryske had his hand around her throat. It wasn’t like he tortured her or took pleasure in her agony. She didn’t understand it, not all the way, but couldn’t stop thinking about how her Crash made her feel.
After ending her relationship with Rupert, Harlow had taken the time to consider what she wanted from life. Some decisions were harder to make than others. Moving into the city had been a practical decision. Still, it wasn’t an easy process. Breaking the news to her parents, finding a new job and an apartment, each came with its own challenges. As difficult as the transition had been, she didn’t regret making it.
Harlow was learning about herself and figuring out that maybe she wasn’t only the sum total of what her mom, dad, sister, and ex-fiancé thought. In spite of their reservations, her practical decision was working out… for the most part. Emotional conclusions weren’t as easy to reach. She still didn’t know what she wanted from love and romance and men in the future.
Rupert had wanted her to be a stay at home mom. He earned enough money to support them and saw her work as more of a hobby than a necessity. His marriage proposal had been expected. More than that, it was overdue. In truth, Harlow had been finding ways to head him off for years before the unavoidable happened.
After five years, she’d run out of ways to bob and weave from the path of his inevitable blow. He’d landed it good, speaking to her mother first and arranging the whole thing with her family so they knew about it in advance. Her mom, Jean, had been eager for them to tie the knot. Her whole family had. Saying no hadn’t been an option.
Not that she’d been bulldozed into it. Marriage had been the next logical step for them and they were happy together… well, they weren’t unhappy. It wasn’t until after she’d said yes that everything had snowballed into an out of control avalanche.
In private, the only place she could get a word in edgeways, Harlow had been clear with Rupert that the engagement was a trial. That she didn’t want to rush into anything.
But there wasn’t anything he could do to pull it back once the ring was on her finger; there wasn’t anything either of them could do. As soon as her parents and his mom got involved, they’d started making plans. Her mom made excuses to take her shopping where they’d invariably end up in bridal stores trying on dresses. Rupert’s mom took on the task of calling venues and caterers. Her father hadn’t been exempt from the meddling, he’d begun advising Rupert on real estate in the best school districts.
The train had left the station and Harlow had been the only one trying to pull the brakes.
The morning it came off the tracks, Rupert had taken her pack of contraceptive pills from her hand. He’d asserted that she didn’t need them anymore. The statement had broken the dam and they’d never mended it again.
Neither she nor Rupert had made it to work that day.
The conversation had fast become an argument. Harlow had really thought that it was over between them almost straight away. Rupert had asked her to stay and they’d spent a whole day trying to negotiate what their future would be.
But, he wouldn’t budge. Rupert wanted her pregnant; wanted her to stay at home and do the school run. To him, her future was as a soccer mom who’d rely on their mothers for advice and lunch with her socialite friends after a morning at the beauty salon.
She couldn’t do it.
Harlow had been patient in explaining that she wasn’t sure she wanted to have kids at all. Horrified as he’d been by the idea that they might not have a traditional family, Rupert listened. She talked about travel and experience, about taking risks and trying new things.
Needless to say, their day of discussion and negotiation might as well have ended after the morning’s argument. By sunset, they’d figured out that, actually, they weren’t the people they each thought they were. They wanted completely different thing
s from life.
Harlow had known the decision to end the relationship was right by how quickly she got over it. She found losing the habit of being coupled up more difficult to deal with than breaking the emotional connection.
Rupert had been a fun guy to hang out with when they met. Sure, he could be dry at some of the corporate functions they attended, but her dad had always been like that too, so it seemed normal to her.
Friendship was how their association had begun. Reverting back to that hadn’t been difficult for her and these days, friendship was as far as their bond went.
She’d gotten with Rupert in the first place because he was a good listener and sympathized with her over her parents’ attempts to control her. His situation with his mom was much the same. Bonding over their familial frustrations, they’d built a friendship. After he made a move, a relationship seemed like a natural progression.
Harlow didn’t know where along the way Rupert’s views had become so traditional. Maybe they’d always been that way and she just hadn’t noticed. The more perplexing question had been: where along the way had they lost their friendship?
On reflection after the end had come, she could see that the excitement had long since gone from their relationship. There had been no thrill, no overwhelming desire. The sex was fine. Sometimes a hit, more often a miss. Harlow just figured that’s what happened after being with the same person for so many years.
Talking had been a big part of their relationship at the beginning. By the end, they’d been going through the motions for quite a while.
All this time spent contemplating her relationship with Rupert had to be motivated by her newer association with Ryske. Dating hadn’t been on her agenda while she’d been busy with her college assignments and moving both home and job. Switching from suburban to city living wasn’t simple, especially without support around and everyone telling her it was an impossible and ridiculous thing to do.
Harlow was proud of herself for not wavering and battling through their objections. Hard work didn’t scare her. While getting herself setup, there hadn’t been time for men, or any kind of social life, which was probably another reason why she’d neglected to form any friendships.
During the time of her breakup and her subsequent decision to move, she’d learned that any females who she might have considered friends weren’t particularly loyal. Most of her suburban “friends” were appalled that she’d let a prize like Rupert go. In a lot of ways, given their aspirations, Harlow could understand why they felt that way.
Maybe her choices were insane. That was always a possibility. But her choices were hers. Whether she flew or crashed and burned, at least Harlow could be confident that she was the only one to blame for the path her life was on.
Sitting in the deli a few blocks from her work, Harlow was pondering these things, her past decisions and what the future may hold, while enjoying her lunch.
After taking a sip of iced coffee, she reached for her sandwich and found the wax paper empty. She was finished and had barely noticed eating.
Bundling up her trash, she slipped off her stool and took her phone from her pocket to check the time… and with hopes that maybe Ryske had found a way to get in touch with her.
He hadn’t.
What Harlow did find on her phone was a message from her boss, Gina. It contained an address and instructed her not to come back to the office but to go straight to a meeting. The “urgent” heading further confused Harlow.
Gina often rescheduled appointments or passed her work off. The nature of what they did meant frequent emergencies cropped up that someone would have to cover.
Taking this development as a sign of trust and progress on her journey to getting her boss’s respect, Harlow trashed her empty sandwich paper, gulped down the rest of her coffee, and set off to the urgent appointment, determined not to let her boss down.
Given that she wasn’t from the city, Harlow wasn’t familiar with the different streets and districts. If she was in the office and a new address popped onto her docket, she’d do some internet research or ask her colleagues about it.
Gina’s abrupt and unexpected message hadn’t afforded Harlow the chance to do that. After getting out of the cab at her destination, she wished she’d made the time.
The building she found herself standing outside was not the caliber of place she’d been visiting since starting work in the city.
Examining the sidewalk canopy and the doorman who wore a swish uniform, Harlow was intrigued. Pedestrians were walking by, probably wondering why she was on the curb gawking. But she couldn’t figure out what to think about why Gina would send her there.
Another car pulled up behind her, forcing Harlow to put one foot in front of the other and get over her surprise. Though it wasn’t the last one she’d have.
She expected the doorman to ask her name, he didn’t. Stepping aside without a word, he opened the glass door for her and she walked into a marble lobby. Taking her phone from her pocket, she checked Gina’s message for the apartment number and glanced to the security desk by the elevator bank.
“I—”
“Go straight up, Miss Sweeting,” the guard on the desk said, wearing a broad, welcoming smile.
That was nice, and she returned his friendly greeting, feeling a little out of her element. Staggering toward the elevator, the glossy gold door opened the moment she pressed the call button like the carriage had been expecting her too. She got in to select the floor.
Leaning against the back wall of the elevator, she tried to figure out why she’d been given this assignment. Harlow wasn’t naive enough to believe that only poverty-stricken kids were abused or that they were the only ones who could lose a parent to death or jail. But if this was a high profile client, or sensitive situation, she’d have expected Gina to deal with it herself.
Considering that it could be an adoption case, Harlow didn’t like being unprepared. But she was here on the orders of her superior, and had no choice except to keep moving forward when the lift doors opened.
In the large square hallway, there was a single front door. Having only one apartment on this whole floor was unexpected and gave her no excuse for dawdling or delay.
An odd surge of anxiety welled up inside her. Something about this whole situation felt wrong. More wrong than a typical case. There was nothing around to suggest anything sinister was going on, something just niggled at her gut.
Telling herself that a little paranoia could be healthy when walking into a new setup, Harlow tried to shrug off her uncertainty, and crept toward the door, preparing herself to knock.
Mayhem could be ready to greet her on the other side. It was almost funny that she was more nervous here than she’d been walking in to Floyd’s. Though walking in with Noon the last time had given her a confidence that could be dulling her memory of how it had felt to walk in on Saturday night when she was tentative about the reception she’d receive.
Floyd’s and Noon. Thinking of them brought her back to Ryske. Damn, she’d feel better if she’d made up with him before having to face the hurdle of a new and unexpected client. Just having him on her side, even if he wasn’t near to her, made her feel stronger and more confident. But, Harlow had screwed it up. He wasn’t on her side anymore.
Before she got a chance to knock, the door in front of her opened, startling her out of her thoughts. “Miss Sweeting,” the man facing her said, raising an arm. “Please, come in.”
His tailored suit screamed wealth. But as he ushered her across a wide entryway and took her up two curved marble stairs toward glorious light, Harlow realized he wasn’t the man she was there to see.
In the vast space at the top of the stairs, there was a bar to one side and a grand piano to the other. Throw rugs separated couches from the desk that was angled in the glazed corner of the room. This room didn’t seem to know what it wanted to be. A living room? A study? An entertaining space? She had no idea.
“Thank you for coming at such
short notice,” the man who had invited her in said. “Please, take a seat.” He gestured toward one of the couches on the far wall, while he himself headed toward the bar. “Would you like a drink, Miss Sweeting?”
Relaxed as he was, she was wary. “I’m sorry, can I ask… do you know why I’m here?” she asked, taking her phone from her pocket again to open her notes app.
The downside of coming straight from lunch was that she had no notepad or paperwork. In her last job, they’d had company tablets with access to their systems and all the forms they could need for any scenario. This district didn’t have as much money or access to the same resources, which made sense given that the budget was stretched much thinner in the city.
“Oh, yes, I know why you’re here,” he said, doing something behind the bar that she couldn’t make out.
Harlow expected him to continue, to elaborate and fill in the blanks for her. Instead, he finished what he was doing, and surprised her by coming around the bar carrying a glass of white wine. Hoping that the drink was for him rather than her, she didn’t quite know what to say when he came over and sat beside her while offering her the alcohol.
“Thank you, but I… it’s the middle of the day. I’m working.” Trying a laugh to lighten the mood, nothing about this was putting her at ease. “I’d be fired if my boss knew I was drinking on the job.”
“You’re off duty, Harlow,” he said, leaning over to put the glass on the coffee table in front of her. “Gina isn’t expecting you back at the office. You can drink as much as you like.”
Nodding at the glass, he seemed to have some expectation that what he’d said would reassure her. It didn’t. The alarming statement didn’t reassure her at all.
It didn’t occur to her until that moment that this stranger had used her name. That wouldn’t be unusual for a client if they’d been told who was coming to assist them. Gina might have told this man her name, but he had no reason to know that she drank white wine. As far as Harlow knew, Gina didn’t know her alcohol preferences. Even if she did, she shouldn’t be giving out personal information.
Go With It (A Go Novel Book 1) Page 16