Go With It (A Go Novel Book 1)

by Scarlett Finn

“Fine,” she said and got up to head for the bathroom.

  “Where are you going?”

  Holding up the dress in her fist, she didn’t even care that she’d be crushing the silk. “If you want me to put on the dress, I’ll change in private. Otherwise, I’m just as happy to go wherever you want me to go in what I’m wearing now.” Which was grey sweatpants and a black vest. After checking out her apparel, Hagan stepped aside. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  “And make some sort of effort,” Hagan said.

  Harlow had to think fast after facing him. He tossed something at her, which she only just caught.

  Flipping it over, she took a few seconds to recognize it as a compact makeup kit. “What’s this?”

  “Think classy,” he said and looked at his watch. “And hurry up.”

  Earlier in the day, she’d been given hair products and a narrow window of time to wash her hair. With this visit and the dress, the reasoning behind the products became clear. Hagan had dictated his regime to her and she hadn’t even realized it.

  Tonight was more than progress, it was part of his agenda. Harlow just had to figure out a way to make sure it suited hers too.

  Clinging to the silk of her dress, holding the two sides of the leg slit together, Harlow didn’t want anyone ogling her.

  If she’d been alone in the back of the sleek limo with Hagan, she may have made an attempt to leap from the vehicle and run at the first set of lights. But, as it was, she was flanked by two broad security guards who didn’t leave much room for her to maneuver. Hagan had also made a show of locking the doors while glaring at her as soon as they got in.

  After almost a week locked inside Hagan’s apartment, it had been nice to feel the air on her skin in the short walk between Hagan’s building and the car. The relief had been too brief and the pendulum had swung back the other way. With so many people in the back of the vehicle, stifling her, Harlow was uncomfortable in the humidity created by body heat and breath. Not that she’d have expected to be comfortable in the presence of Hagan and his minions.

  Harlow tried to forget about the lack of space and began to speculate about what might happen when they got to wherever they were going. Throughout the ride, she held onto the hope that Ryske might be the prize at the end of this journey. Though that would only be a positive if she was allowed to speak to him… preferably before he threw a punch.

  If Ryske reacted to Hagan the same way he’d reacted to Clyde, it could cause problems for all of them. But, given that their last encounter had ended with him walking away from her without looking back, there was a chance that his fondness for her had dwindled.

  Time to reach conclusions was short. They only drove a few blocks before the car pulled to a stop. She tried to lean forward to see where they were, but couldn’t pick out many specifics. There was a red carpet on the sidewalk, and a posse of people in groups of various sizes.

  The door was opened for them. After Hagan got out, a security guard followed and then the one left inside forced her out and straight into Hagan who crowded close while security penned her in against him.

  “If you think about doing anything stupid,” Hagan said. “I’ll see to it that your lover gets more than a scratch. Smile and play nice.”

  Snatching her wrist, he forced her hand into his elbow and smiled, waiting for her to reciprocate. Once she did, exaggerated as her false grin was, Hagan was satisfied enough to take them inside what appeared to be a hotel lobby.

  Everyone was moving in the same direction, towards the open double doors of a grand ballroom. They went into the bustling space. Over the susurration of conversation, classical music was being played on stringed instruments, and it seemed everyone held a flute of champagne. Harlow didn’t care about that. Nothing about this meant anything to her.

  Although her only choice was to stay next to Hagan because he still had her in his clutches, her eyes were wild. Her frantic gaze searched left and right, looking for any sign that someone she knew might be around. Someone like Ryske or Maze or any of the Floyd’s crew.

  Despite his heritage and the place he called home, Harlow had no trouble believing that Ryske could fit in here. With a suit and a smile, he’d fit in anywhere. It was harder to imagine him coming here looking for a good time.

  But, Hagan had implied that he’d be here, hadn’t he? Ryske had to be up to something, general networking or maybe a specific meeting… could be he was just plain working. Maybe someone in the ballroom was a mark. Was she going to find him in the midst of a seduction? How did she feel about that?

  Harlow didn’t know how she’d feel. Well, yes, she did. It would sicken her to see him with another woman. She’d feel jealous and angry and uncomfortable, but wasn’t that exactly why Ryske didn’t want to make her promises?

  Hagan took her to the bar and ordered drinks. Once the bartender turned to fill the order, Hagan retrieved a glass of complimentary champagne from further along the bar. “Drink this,” he said, putting the glass in her hand.

  “Why?”

  The liquid wasn’t likely to be tainted, he’d pulled it from an anonymous pack of other glasses that were being picked up by others at random. It would’ve been extremely difficult for Hagan to ensure the one he’d arranged to be tainted for her wasn’t picked up by someone else. With the ever changing grid of glasses, it would also be difficult for him to know which the tainted glass was.

  She took a sip, it was good, but Harlow still didn’t understand why he wanted her to drink it. “The drunker you are, the better.”

  Under other circumstances, she’d say there was something admirable about honesty. This time, it just turned her stomach.

  Putting the glass aside, Harlow propped herself on a stool. “Is that your idea of a seduction?” she asked. “I could believe it’s the only way you can find a willing woman.”

  He laughed. The sound was warmer and seemed more intimate than his previous attempts. “Not at all,” he said. “Though if the evening goes that way, I wouldn’t object.”

  Almost snorting, she wasn’t hesitant to deliver a truth of her own. “It won’t.”

  “Then I’ll have to settle for loosening your tongue in a different way.”

  “That’s a risky strategy,” she said, smiling at the bartender who brought their drinks, though she had no intention of drinking from the new glass he’d provided either. “You might hope to get information from me that serves you. But I’m as likely to start mouthing off about what you’ve done to me.”

  “What have I done?” he asked. “You’ve spent a few days living at my hospitality, that is all. No one has hurt you.”

  “Imprisonment is imprisonment. Torture comes in different forms.”

  The warmth of his gaze cooled. Receiving a glare from him was satisfying. Harlow wanted to push his buttons and didn’t want anyone in this room to think they were friends much less intimate. The more time he spent glaring the better, and she’d return the sentiment without hesitation.

  In an abrupt change, his scowl flipped to a glorious smile and he took a half step to the side. “Oh, you are beautiful,” he said, opening his arms. “A vision.”

  The words weren’t for her, and neither was the smile. His attention had switched to something, or rather someone, behind her. Suffering proverbial whiplash from his sudden change in demeanor, Harlow twisted in her stool to see what had taken his attention. A gorgeous blonde was coming toward them, returning Hagan’s smile. The woman went into his arms, and they kissed each other’s cheeks.

  “You are as handsome as ever,” the blonde said, her voice a sultry purr.

  Her smile became a begging pout, making Harlow wonder about this woman’s connection to the man who’d held her prisoner all week. If the two were lovers, the blonde wouldn’t be pleased to see Hagan at this function with another woman. Harlow knew the woman had no need to be jealous. There wouldn’t be a cat fight tonight. If the blonde wanted Hagan, she could have him.

  “I know that face. Wh
at do you want?” Hagan asked the blonde.

  Whoever she was, Hagan knew her well enough to read her expressions and address her with a fed up groan that was familiar and almost teasing.

  “Do you have a minute for Christian Hyslop?”

  Oh, a new person could mean an opening for her. Harlow perked up. Neither Hagan nor the blonde looked at her, but she was already scanning the room trying to pinpoint the nearest exit. Except, his security guards were no doubt still watching her. Would she get away with sneaking out?

  Hagan exhaled. “I suppose you…” The blonde stepped aside to sweep an arm toward a man standing about fifteen feet away. “Okay, but no more. I don’t want a night of this. And, just one minute.”

  Nodding, the blonde kissed his cheek again, and spun around to watch Hagan head for the man she’d referred to as Hyslop.

  20

  After watching Hagan and Hyslop for a second, the blonde turned to order a drink at the bar. Harlow didn’t pay much attention, she was more interested in Hagan who’d positioned himself to face in her direction so he could keep watching her.

  Could she make a break for it? Maybe the scene would be worth it. Hagan could run after her and tackle her to the floor in a mist of flailing limbs and desperate screams, but did he want to make a fool of himself like that in this room of his peers who probably admired him? She doubted it. But, he may have a plan B, and—

  “You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?”

  It took Harlow a second to realize that the question had come from the blonde and that the woman was talking to her. It hadn’t been immediately obvious because the blonde was leaning on the bar, staring straight ahead. The beauty was nowhere near as friendly or simpering as she had been a moment before.

  “No,” Harlow said, which she would’ve said regardless of the blonde’s affect because, A) it was the truth, and B) she hadn’t been instructed to say otherwise. She couldn’t imagine any motivation for Hagan wanting anyone to think she and he were intimate, other than to hurt Ryske, and Harlow wouldn’t be party to that if she could avoid it. “No, I promise you we’ve never—”

  “He’s been different recently. Distant. And, all this week, he’s been edgy and angry, like something’s on his mind,” the blonde said, her cold eyes drifting in Harlow’s direction. “It’s you. You’re what’s different. Are you in love with him?”

  Shock made Harlow blink. It was hard not to gasp in horror. “No! No, I could never—”

  “He’s in love with you, I can tell,” the blonde said, switching her focus to her drink and breathing out an ironic laugh. “I didn’t think he was capable.”

  Glancing past the blonde to Hagan, Harlow found she was still under his scrutiny. “I’d probably agree with that assessment. Well, except himself. He’s in love with himself.”

  “He never shied from flirting with me, and his hands would wander, you know, like they do when a man’s interested and wants to push for more.”

  Harlow would take the blonde’s word for that. She was pleased to have never had the pleasure of Hagan’s hands on her. Him just holding her hand was enough to put her off.

  “I can promise you—”

  “He’s just been so angry for the last month. He disappeared after the stabbing and I… it didn’t matter how many times Maze told me he was safe, I couldn’t believe it until I saw it with my own eyes.”

  Maze… Slowly, her head turned to fixate on the blonde’s profile, though Harlow only watched for a moment before she turned to make eye contact. This woman wasn’t talking about Hagan at all. She knew Maze. Who would know Maze and about the stabbing? Someone who’d been there. Present and correct. Ophelia. This was Ophelia, it had to be.

  “What’s your name?”

  The blonde smiled. “He didn’t tell you about me?” she asked, flashing furtive eyes Harlow’s way. “I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve heard how he likes to keep his women separate. Guess that’s why I never had a chance. After Anwen he was never the same. I suppose I remind him of her… maybe that’s why he trusts me… I always thought she was why he’d let us only go so far, but never all the way.”

  Questions flooded Harlow’s mind about this Anwen and how Ophelia was connected to both her and to Hagan, and to Ryske.

  “You’re in love with him,” Harlow murmured, though she hadn’t really meant to say anything.

  The blonde didn’t answer her question, but there was a forlorn kind of pain in her gaze that broke Harlow’s heart. The woman did have feelings for Ryske, and he didn’t return those feelings. Or, if he did, he wouldn’t let himself act on them because of this Anwen.

  “Ophelia.”

  Neither of them expected to hear Hagan’s voice. Both were startled and turned in the direction of the sound to find him striding over. Once he was there, he put himself between them. The move, she supposed, was meant to look casual. Harlow saw it as a ploy and wondered if Ophelia saw through it too.

  “How did it go?” Ophelia asked, impressing Harlow with how quickly she became the social butterfly again.

  “The man is an oaf as always,” Hagan said, pushing his empty glass onto the bar and gesturing the bartender over. “But he’s a rich one with good ideas.”

  “You’ll hear him out?”

  “I’ll let him pitch.”

  “Pitch what?” Harlow asked, seeing an opportunity.

  Hagan couldn’t know that Ophelia was in cahoots with Ryske. There would be no reason for Hagan to be so friendly with a woman who was providing access and information to a person he despised. And, given that Harlow was supposed to be his date for the evening, there would be no reason for him not to answer her question and share the story. Making the enquiry was normal small talk for a date.

  “Hyslop is an amazing man,” Ophelia said, like she was simply filling her in. “He has a brilliant mind, but he’s just not personable. He can talk to people he likes one on one, but try to get him into an investors meeting…” She waved an airy hand. “Oh, it’s a disaster. I swear, he could pitch a spacecraft intended to get astronauts to Mars and back in a day, for the price of a popsicle, and he’d still find a way to mess it up.”

  “So, he’s an inventor,” Harlow asked and focused on Hagan. “Do you have something against him? If he’s going to make you money…”

  “My brother doesn’t like dealing with erratic people.”

  Clarity changed Harlow’s expression. “Your… brother?”

  Ophelia laughed and put an arm around Hagan. “Yes! You didn’t think there was something salacious between us, did you? Goodness, that’s disgusting.”

  Picking Ophelia’s arm from around him, Hagan eased her back a step. “You need to be careful what you’re saying,” he said to his sister. “This woman is connected to someone we both know.”

  “We know plenty of people,” Ophelia said, gulping her drink and leaning past her brother to stage whisper to Harlow. “He doesn’t like his dates to know how ruthless he can be. I wouldn’t put it past him to take Hyslop’s idea and sell it as his own.” Ophelia laughed like she was joking… or was she? “Oh, I’m kidding, brother, wipe that displeasure from your face.”

  “You’ve had too much to drink,” he said, plucking the glass from her hand. “Ophelia, you shouldn’t—”

  “I think I’m allowed to get a little bit drunk.”

  “Because he stood you up again?” he said.

  Ophelia wasn’t as drunk as she was pretending to be, but Harlow could respect what she was doing. Lowering her brother’s expectations meant she could act in a less than responsible way and get away with it because he believed she was under the influence.

  “Who stood her up?” Harlow asked, fearing what the answer might be.

  Hagan’s glare snapped around to her. “Stop asking questions.”

  “You brought me here,” she said, picking up the champagne she’d put aside earlier, figuring a couple of sips wouldn’t hurt. “Why shouldn’t I amuse myself?”

  “You’re being ru
de.”

  Taking the flute from her mouth, she caught a drip of champagne on her lip with her fingertip. “I’m being rude? You’re the one who…”

  Just as she felt like she was getting into the spirit of the night and finding her groove in how to aggravate Hagan, a random partygoer in her peripheral vision stepped aside. The movement may not have registered if it hadn’t revealed someone she knew.

  Ryske.

  There was no frown on his face, his expression was blank. Although he appeared to be alone, she wondered how close the rest of the crew were. On the night he’d been stabbed, he’d been by himself. Harlow hoped that they’d learned from that error. Around others, on other ops, it might be safe for him to fly solo. Hagan had proved he was willing to be lethal, making him an unsafe mark for Ryske. Yet, there he was.

  Ryske wasn’t just there, he was approaching them. It didn’t seem that Hagan had noticed him yet because he was whispering something to his sister, and wasn’t facing Ryske’s way.

  Harlow felt a surge of panic. She didn’t know what to do. Her instinct was to go to him, to talk to him, to explain, and hopefully escape with him. It was impossible for her to know what he thought about the sight he was witnessing. Now he was within just a few feet. Her mouth opened, but she didn’t know what to say.

  Ophelia gasped and leaped from her stool, hurrying past her brother to throw herself against Ryske. “Oh, you naughty boy, you kept me waiting,” Ophelia said, stroking his face. “Why must you always be late?”

  “Like to keep you on your toes, Fi,” he said and dipped to kiss her.

  Vomit almost touched the back of Harlow’s throat. While it wasn’t a full kiss, it was more than a friendly peck on the cheek.

  Harlow didn’t mean to gawp or blanch, but she was still focused on the lip-locked pair when a voice filled her ear. “Did I forget to tell you about my sister’s ridiculous crush?”

  Being discreet about shaking herself from her daze wasn’t easy. Though the speed of her recovery impressed even her. “Who says I didn’t know?” she asked Hagan, turning her back on the couple now whispering to each other.