Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
DRIED-UP AND CREEPY
Harlow
The silence lingering between us in the dark night is downright painful after his talk of truths and avoidances.
The only things cutting through the crisp air are the sounds of nature.
The forest is alive with bugs, the breeze tickles the leaves, and the water licks the shore.
It should be soothing, but the imposing presence of the man next to me proves his aura wins out over Mother Nature.
I don’t normally have an issue with silence, but I do now. In a matter of moments, Devon Donnelly unnerved me back in the dining room. It’s like we’re in a life-and-death game of who’ll blink first as we walk in stride through the gardens and toward the lake.
We exit the gardens and come to a stop overlooking the vast lake in the very spot I was supposed to be married. There’s not one remnant of the ceremony. No altar, no seating, and definitely no orchestra. Not even a stray flower petal.
I can’t take it another moment and finally break the silence. “You have a funny way of being honest.”
He stops and takes in the view of his own property before turning to me. “Just allowing you a moment to appreciate the night. You haven’t had a chance to take a breath to enjoy anything since you arrived.”
I hug my sweater around my bare shoulders to fight off the chill. If only I could do the same for my nerves. “I’d enjoy it a lot more if you weren’t so cryptic.”
“There’s something to know about me. This—” He motions to the beautiful surroundings with a lazy wave of his hand. “Isn’t in my wheelhouse. It’s a retirement gig for me. I own fifty-one percent of it—a majority of that is financed. My sister put the rest of the cash down as a silent investor.”
“An investor,” I note, taking in the random fact that came out of left field. “That’s nice of her.”
“And she’s hardly silent. That’s beside the point. The reason I’m telling you this is because I had a whole career before this back in England.”
“Let me guess—it wasn’t in hospitality?”
“Hardly. I worked in intelligence.”
One thing I’ve noticed about Devon Donnelly since I first laid eyes on him was his appreciation for the finer things. His suits are custom and fit him like a second skin. If I had to pigeonhole this man into a career, I knew it wasn’t hospitality, but I wouldn’t guess intelligence either.
I let that sink in and can’t help but wonder why he’s telling me this. “I’m guessing you weren’t a professor at Oxford.”
“Not that kind of intelligence. More like the Secret Intelligence Service.”
A new energy pulses through my veins. It’s all I can do not to take a step back.
“A real-life James Bond. Those movies aren’t my thing, but isn’t it strange for someone like you to tell someone like me about your prior profession?
I thought intelligence work was secretive and dangerous.
Laying all your cards out can’t be normal. ”
If I wasn’t watching close enough, I’d miss the hint of bitterness in his expression. “I have nothing to hide. One quick internet search and you’ll know my entire story. I was burned in the worst way. The world knows who I am. My career ended in a split second.”
“I’m sorry. Though, I am curious why you’re telling me. Is this the getting-to-know-you phase of sharing a suite?”
He shakes his head and ignores my question. “I have contacts in the industry—people who can get me sensitive information should I need it. I’m laying this out for you so when I tell you why I actually brought you out here, you won’t play stupid and waste my time or yours.”
I can’t help it. I do take a step back.
He takes a step forward.
My heart skips a beat. “I’ve wasted enough time in the last year.”
He pauses as he stares me down. I may not feel threatened, but I do feel challenged.
And I don’t like it.
I’ve had enough. I open my mouth to demand that he get to the point when he blows my mind. “You kidnapped your father.”
I suck in a quick breath to keep myself from fainting. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Devon smiles.
The jerk actually smiles.
“Remember...” He lets that thought hang before he lowers his voice. “Intelligence. Don’t lie, Harlow.”
Easier said than done. The need to escape, however, is so strong, I wonder if I really do need to leave Winslet altogether, even though that’s the last thing in the world I want to do. “Well, your intelligence is ... wrong.”
“I promise you, it’s not,” he counters. “Just as I thought, the longer you stick around, the more interesting I find you.”
Fuck.
I need to make a phone call. If Devon knows where my dad is, then I did a shit job of covering my tracks.
“It’s late. I should get back to the room,” I mutter and start my way up the path we just walked in silence. And to think I demanded to know what he wanted to talk about. I would kill to return to that silence now.
Devon reaches out and has no trouble tagging me by the forearm. “I’m not done talking.”
His touch startles me in a way I don’t recognize. My pulse races, and my breath shallows despite our slow, leisurely walk.
I jerk my arm from his embrace. If I have to scream the garden down, I will. My need to call Chrissie trumps everything else. “I’m done. This was a bad idea. I never should’ve stayed with you.”
He moves in front of me and doesn’t allow me any personal space. “Why did you do it? Does it have to do with the rat bastard?”
I close my eyes and will the risotto in my stomach not to churn. “Please. I need to make a phone call.”
“To whom? I thought your father was incoherent,” he pressures me for information. “There’s no need to deny it, Harlow. I know where he is, and it tracks straight back to you.”
No.
I was careful. So damned careful.
My mind whirls like a tornado.
“I’m not doing this.” I put my hands to his chest and push to get by him. “I have to go.”
“Talk to me, Harlow.” He grabs my bicep this time. “Did you expect me to know this and not tell you when you’re sleeping in the next room? What you see is what you get when it comes to me. I don’t mince words or dish out bullshit.”
Tears build behind my eyes. “Then why did you look into my father in the first place? It’s none of your business.”
He pulls in a deep breath and releases my arm when I stop fighting or try to run off into the night.
“Since I’ve met you, things haven’t exactly gone your way.
At least that’s what it seems like from the outside.
You ditched your fiancé, canceled a wedding that was supposed to play out on the world stage, and then your father went missing.
That doesn’t even touch the dynamics that blew up with your stepmum.
Between it all, you’ve been cool and controlled.
You were angry with your stepmum, but you were never upset—not even about your father disappearing into thin air. ”
“I told you,” I bite out. “My relationship with my dad is strained because of Janie. It wasn’t always that way, especially when my mother was alive.”
“So you took him,” Devon states.
“I don’t owe you an explanation, especially one about my fucked-up family or my life.
” I poke him in the chest with my index finger.
This is the second time I’ve touched him, but the shock has worn off from learning that the owner of The Manor at Winslet, and my new roommate, is a prior secret agent.
Not only that, but he’s proven he’s not completely retired and enjoys digging up secrets.
“It’s late, and my car won’t be delivered until tomorrow.
I’ll pack and find somewhere else to go. ”
I step around him. This time he doesn’t stop me, but he does follow. “Dammit, Harlow—”
My pace quickens as I make my way back through the labyrinth. “Don’t dammit, Harlow me. I just got rid of Albert. I do not need another man bossing his way into my life.”
“That’s not what I’m doing. I looked into your father because I had the means to,” he growls.
Devon is at my side and has no problem keeping up. I throw him a glance. “No. You were looking into me.”
“Hell, yes,” he admits. “I looked into all of you.”
We’re almost back to the main building when I come to an abrupt stop to gape. I don’t even try to keep my tone down. “Why would you do that?”
He looks at me like I’m an idiot. What he does not do is apologize. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because it’s ... I don’t know. It’s strange and weird and creepy! Which is why I’m out of here the moment my car arrives. I needed Winslet to be a safe haven for me. I sure as hell didn’t think some dried-up James Bond would ruin every plan I made. Do you think anything I’ve done has been easy?”
His eyes narrow, and he proves what I’ve learned the hard way since the day Albert-rat-bastard-Humphries tripped over my backpack in a Costa Rican coffee shop. Men are self-centered and have the delicate egos of a glass castle—or a greenhouse turned dining room, since that’s where we’re at.
“Watch it,” he growls. “I’m hardly dried up.”
I realize where we are and who’s watching ... which is everyone.
Dinner and a show.
Someone is even holding up a cell to capture my life being crushed into tinier pieces than it already was.
Great.
Just fucking great.
Even Blake, standing under one of the massive trees that’s thriving in its protected environment, smiles and waves.
I don’t have the nerve to frown back at the sweet boy, so I smile.
But that’s it. I’m out of here.
I hurry toward the elevators as I dig the keycard from my purse. Of course Devon gets to his first. “Let’s talk about this when we get to the suite.”
“Men,” I mutter. “I’m not talking about anything, nor do I have time for you.
I’m going to lock myself in my room, push a dresser in front of the door, and make a phone call.
You’ll either eavesdrop or tap my line, since you have the means to do both.
I hope you enjoy listening to my life unravel further. ”