“After my meetings,” I say.
“Mitch Carmichael is running a half hour late,” Grayson interjects. “I can give Harper a rundown of the players and meet you in your office in fifteen minutes.” He glances at Harper. “Mia’s in my office. Let’s head in that direction.”
“I’d rather stay with Eric.” She turns to me. “Together, remember?”
I glance at Blake. “Can this wait?”
“No. And we need to talk alone. You and me. Just you and me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Eric
Blake’s request to speak to me alone is unexpected.
Alone.
As in without Harper present.
Blake’s point is crystal clear. He’s sheltering her from something. I don’t believe Harper needs to be sheltered. I believe she needs to feel in control. She needs to trust me and settle with two solid feet in this new life. That doesn’t happen by shutting her out.
My hand settles possessively on her lower back. “Harper can hear anything you have to say. She’s with me. We’re relocating her here. She’s moving in.”
“Alone,” is Blake’s only reply before he seems to feel a need to clarify. “Alone means alone and I don’t ask for things without a purpose.”
Harper squeezes my arm. “Blake, my mother—”
“Is fine,” he replies, hi
s eyes meeting hers. “No one is injured. No one is in imminent danger.” He looks at me. “Are we doing this or not?”
In other words, he’s not talking to me with Harper present, but he knows she’ll ask what we talked about.
Harper steps in front of me, hands on my chest. “I’m going with Grayson. You go with Blake.” She gives me a tiny nod, silently telling me this is fine. She’s fine. We’re fine. I cup her head and kiss her. “I’ll find you when we’re done.”
She turns away and I share a look with Grayson. He’s worried about what this is all about and where it leads, and so am I. He offers Harper his arm and the two of them walk away. I stand flat-footed right where I am, waiting until the glass doors to the lobby close before I level Blake in a hard stare. “I have a massive contract to negotiate today. Whatever this is—”
“Can’t wait.” He scrubs his jaw. “Look, man, I don’t like to throw heavy shit down before big meetings. I get it. This is big. But you’re a genius. I’ve studied you. I’ve researched you. You can compartmentalize most things. I believe you need to know this now, in case someone in that room suddenly gets a call that calls you out.”
“Calls me out? What the fuck does that even mean?”
“Can we get a room or something?”
I grimace and do what I was avoiding. I motion him toward the lobby doors and we walk in that direction. Thankfully without interruption to drag this out, we travel to my office and end up there. Once we’re inside, I enter and he shuts the door behind him. I walk toward my desk but I don’t round it. I sit on the side, on the edge, hands on the surface in front of me. On even ground with Blake, the way I try to keep everyone on even ground. I’m not my fucking father or brother. I don’t need to be above anyone and I find that’s not the way to make a deal anyway. People deal with people they trust and they never trust someone above them.
“You have my undivided attention,” I say.
Blake closes the space between us and stops in between the two leather visitor’s chairs to my left and right. “Harper’s mother is having a meltdown,” he says.
“When is she not having a meltdown?”
“She wants to call the police and the press to tell them that you attacked your father because he denied your mother cancer treatments. She says she has proof you know about it.”
“That’s an amusing premise,” I say dryly. “But she’s not going to the damn press. That would fuck up her perfect world.”
He arches a brow. “You sure about that?”
“Yes, I’m sure. And I know about it, yes, because she told Harper, and Harper told me after my father was already in the hospital.”