CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Thank you,” Harper said, as the server lifted the lid, exposing a full breakfast of eggs, bacon and all the trimmings.
They were dining outside in the sunshine on Daniel's lanai after a lazy, sexy morning. She felt blissfully exhausted.
When the serving staff left, Daniel leaned over and took her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles. “You look thoroughly fucked, my love.”
Harper let out a little laugh.
There was no humor in Daniel's eyes, however. They were dark and full of desire. Still. Even sitting here in a pair of shorts and a simple t-shirt, he exuded power. The fact both items of clothing cost more than her weekly income was beside the point.
Harper was aware they were back in their bubble, but she was glowing and wanted to stay there just for a little longer.
That he’d called her his love wasn’t helping.
She wasn’t completely naïve, though. At no point had Daniel said he wanted to be with her or asked if they could talk about being together. He had declared his love for her as if it was a life sentence and a source of pain, while being unable to walk away from her.
On some level, she understood. Harper was unable to get up and leave herself. So who was she to judge?
And yet, life was about to separate them. Daniel was flying home today, and she was departing a few days later.
Their bubble was about to burst.
“What time are you flying?” Harper asked, trying to be cool about it. “I guess you have your own private jet, right?”
Daniel nodded. “Yes, we have a fleet of Gulfstream Jets.”
A fleet? Of course they did. She let out a snort.
“Does that bother you?” he asked.
She forked egg into her mouth and shook her head. “No, I just don’t know anyone with a private jet, let alone a fleet of them. Doesn’t matter, I guess we truly are worlds apart. Sometimes I think I know you and then I realize I don’t. ”
Daniel stared at her for a long moment.
“No, I guess you don’t,” he finally said. “I doubt you’d like me in my everyday life. I’m much less fun.”
Harper swallowed and placed her utensils on her plate, frowning.
Goddamn him.
If he thought she was going to sit here while he spent the next hour telling her how much she would hate New York, hate him, hate his life, then he was wrong. It was like he was trying to find a way out of this.
He didn’t need to.
If he didn’t want her, then that was fine. Just fine.
Ugh.
Why had she thought his declaration meant anything last night? Why had she let a slither of hope slip into her heart?
She was an idiot. Again.
“You don’t need to do this,” she mumbled, and he stopped, fork mid-way to his mouth.
“Do what?”
“Tell me all the reasons I won’t like New York, or you, or the snow. I get it. You have a life, and I’m not going to be a part of it. I’m not asking for that, nor do I expect it so please just stop.” She said and then dropped her napkin on the plate, then stood. “You know what? I should just go.”