I
let him turn and lower the seat and pull me down in the chair beside him, the two of us facing each other, his lips parting mine briefly, his breath fanning my cheek, my lips. “We can’t do this here,” I say weakly.
“I pulled the curtain, which means we’re left alone,” he promises even as he caresses my skirt up my legs. “And I don’t have a condom,” he adds. “I say we roll the dice.”
“What?” I try to pull back. “But what if I get pregnant again? Eric, we just—”
He kisses me and cups my backside, pulling me against his thick erection. “Quam quae potest esse diligentissima,” he murmurs next to my lips. “Another one of my tattoos that means—”
“What is meant to be,” I whisper, “And I’m thankful now that my father taught me Latin.”
“Yes,” he replies. “What is meant to be. This is our time, Harper.” And then he’s kissing me again, and I have no protest in me. This is our time, but that doesn’t mean that we’ll end up together. What is meant to be might be the end of us, and that thought has me throwing caution to the wind. I kiss him with all that I am, like it’s the last few hours we’ll ever share, and I don’t know why I fear that it is.
CHAPTER FIVE
Eric
The past—three hours ago, right after Eric found out about the miscarriage…
My phone rings about a dozen times before it goes silent, every call from Harper. Every call ignored while I drive way too fast to be safe, as far away from her as I can get. We’re done. We were done before we ever started. We were all about who could fuck who and turns out, for the time being, it’s me that got fucked.
I turn down a narrow road, headed toward the private airport that is my destination, thinking Harper is just another Kingston. Princess fits her so damn well, but it doesn’t seem to matter. I can’t seem to shut down the storm exploding inside me. The idea of her pregnant with another man’s child about kills me. The idea that Isaac has touched her when she swore he hadn’t, destroys me right along with the miscarriage news. And the panic in Harper’s face when I confronted her about it destroyed me, too. It is destroying me. Holy fuck, I think, I was going to be stupid and fall in love with her.
I arrive at the private airport where I’ve hired a jet to take me the hell out of Denver. I should have never come back. It’s like I wanted to be a fool. I am a damn fool. I was falling in love. I let this family use her to get to me because they did. Somehow, some way, they used her to get to me. I think of the bank account with the wires Harper closed. That links to Gigi and the wires we found to her account. Fucking Gigi was probably behind it all. I pull up to the private lot and kill the engine to the Jaguar. Damn straight I drive a Jag as a fuck you to the Kingstons. I should have ruined them a few months back when I had the chance, but then, it looks like they’re doing a good job of it themselves. Damn though, the satisfaction of doing it now, while they fight to survive. I’m not sure Grayson can talk me out of it this time.
I kill the engine and exit the car, clicking the locks and walking into the building to the desk inside where I hand off my keys to the rep who coordinated me leasing the car. A few minutes later, I’m on a private jet, and the pilot isn’t. He’s running late, which is fine. I get it. I booked this flight last minute, as in really last minute, but just being on the plane takes me down ten notches, which is why I don’t understand how I end up with numbers beating up my mind, pounding at me to the point that I can’t think straight. I reach into my briefcase and pull out my phone and a full-sized Rubik’s cube. I set my phone down and stare at it, the silence it represents bothering me more than the constant ringing. I start solving the Rubik’s cube. It’s done and I pull two more from my bag and repeat.
When I’m done, I have no idea why, but I pick up the phone and eye the message notifications and there are plenty of them, all from Harper. I don’t understand why, but the numbers in my head want me to listen and I can’t ignore them, something no one else would understand. Maybe Harper. Fuck. Where did that come from? I remind myself about the bank account. I’m going to listen to the messages and leave. The end. I punch the button the listen and Harper’s voice fills the line.
“I wanted to tell you. I just didn’t want you to think I was playing you and then you got rich and I was afraid you’d think it was about money. I can’t make you believe me, but you know—I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you so I just have to tell you.” The phone beeps and disconnects. She’s in love with me? What kind of game is she playing? I punch the next message.
“I got pregnant the night we were together six years ago. I know you pulled out, but you were inside me and it happened. I wasn’t with anyone else. I didn’t think you’d believe me and what would forcing you to believe me achieve? It was too late to change what happened. I lost the baby.” The machine beeps again.
I stand up. My baby? She was pregnant with my baby? I face the wall of the plane and press my hands to the paneling. This can’t be true. This has to be a lie and yet—I push off the wall and hit the next message, sitting back down as I hear, “When I missed my period, I thought it was stress, but then one night I was working late and suddenly I was bleeding. Lots of blood and Isaac was there and I was bad. I was hemorrhaging and—I had to let him help me. I didn’t even know what was happening. I was scared and when I found out there was a baby—” The machine beeps and I let out a guttural growl. Damn it. I hit the next message. “Bottom line,” she says. “I hated so much that Isaac was the one who helped me. And I really wanted that baby, our baby, but now I’m damaged goods anyway. I don’t even know now if I can have kids. They said—”
The machine beeps and my jaw clenches. I hit the final message. “Eric,” she whispers. “I didn’t betray you like everyone else in this family. Have Blake hack my medical records. If I was with Isaac and he was the father, why would I fight the ER staff and insist that I couldn’t be pregnant? Why wouldn’t I put him down on the medical records? I just—I need you to know that I didn’t betray you. You matter to me. You’ve always mattered to me and I regret that I didn’t call you. I regret—”
There’s nothing more. I inhale and take in what she just told me, numbers flying through my mind, calculating the odds of her baby being my baby. Ten percent. It’s only ten percent by scientific terms, but beyond reason, I believe her. And I left her at the office, the way I left her to bleed out and suffer alone six years ago. I grab my bag, stuff the cubes back inside and start walking. It takes me ten minutes to cancel the flight and grab my rental car again.
I’m on my way back to Kingston in fifteen, dialing Adam. “Where’s Harper right now?”
“At work,” he says. “Why?”
“Don’t let her leave. I’ll be there in fifteen.” I disconnect and replay the messages three times in the short drive.
I pull into the warehouse and park, dialing Adam. “I’m here. I assume she’s still inside?”
“Yes. She’s still inside.”
“Who else is in the building?”
“They have a robot cop at the rear door who walks the place every fifteen minutes. Other than that, no one. They don’t run manufacturing at night at this building.”
“How do I get inside?”
“I have a hacked badge to hand off to you. Give me sixty seconds.” He disconnects.
I exit my car and pocket my keys, and the minute I’m outside, a charge of unease slides down my spine. I scan the area and nothing looks off, but then, I’ve been ambushed by men who meant to kill me and nothing looked off. But it damn sure felt off just like now. Adam approaches me and hands me the badge. “Yes,” he says, when his eyes meet mine, without me saying a word. “I feel it. I alerted our team. I have two more men on the way. They’ll be here in five minutes.”