Chapter 10 Not So Secret #2
“Maybe you should take care of the guests while I speak to Harlow, Felicity.” Devon’s suggestion has the punch of a marshmallow. As brash as he is, I have to give him credit. The way someone treats their employees speaks mountains about them.
Felicity leans over the counter. “Sorry. Maybe we can catch up later. I don’t know any celebrities.”
I don’t have a chance to correct her that I’m hardly a celebrity. She begins to help the next guest book a hiking and nature tour.
I need to get this done, get my keys, and figure out where the hell I’m going to spend the next three weeks.
Devon barely shifts for me to move past him right before the big, heavy door shuts with a thud. When I get a look at his office, I realize how much the rest of the property has been refurbished.
Because this room looks like it hasn’t been touched in over a century. Maybe more.
“Make yourself comfortable.” His words sound like an order rather than an invitation. “We have a lot to discuss.”
I’m the least comfortable I’ve been in a long time, and that’s saying a lot since I faked it with Albert Humphries for far too long. “I have no desire to get comfortable. Say what you want and give me my keys. I’m packed and ready to go.”
Devon relaxes back in his office chair. It’s the color of nubuck leather, the kind that gets better with age. Since I spent hours last night researching the man currently holding my new car hostage, I can attest the chair is very much like its owner.
I’m not sure if it’s being with this man in the flesh or if the pictures didn’t do him justice, but the years have been good to Devon.
Seeing him this morning, I realize he’s one of those men that it doesn’t matter if he wears custom suits or linen trousers.
He’d be equally beautiful lounging in the Mediterranean as he would in the wild west.
He’d look good wearing anything.
Or, after poking him in the chest last night, probably nothing at all.
Shit.
I need to focus.
Get my car, escape, and never, ever return to The Manor at Winslet.
I notice a keychain with two fobs sitting on a thick black envelope front and center on his desk.
Devon pulls my attention away from my target when he curtly starts the conversation he’s so determined to have.
“There’s something to know about me. I say what I need to say and don’t give a shit about how I say it.
My mum and sister have been on my arse for years to fix that. I’ve never seen the need.”
That is not what I was expecting.
I cross my arms. “That sounds like a personal problem.”
“The women in my family would agree with you.”
“It’s never too late to change, even at your age.” It’s a cheap jab, but I haven’t had coffee, and my mood is tapping out on the side of edgy. I can muster up manners for Felicity, but not Devon.
He proves my jab is nothing more than a tickle if his smirk has anything to say about it.
“Yes, even at my age,” he drawls but doesn’t lose the smirk. He also randomly changes the subject. “Have you eaten?”
“No. I’ll stop on the road ... when I’m in my car.”
As if he could sense my urge to leap across his desk to grab my keys and title, followed by a mad dash back to his suite to collect more luggage than I have hands for, and finally race out to find my car since he probably hid it in some remote building on his property, he picks up the keyring and swings it around his finger.
“Yes, your car. A Jag. I didn’t see you going for the color black. I pictured you in red.”
“That’s how little you know me. I’d never drive a red car. I spend my life trying not to be seen. Plus, I had no idea what color it was. My assistant bought what was available.”
I’m not sure what’s more distracting—him flipping my keyring around his strong, thick index finger or the veins disappearing up the sleeve of his shirt on his corded forearm.
Sarcasm bleeds through his tone. “Yes, the F-Type convertible. An obvious choice for those who don’t want to be seen.”
“You should really take your mother and sister’s advice and edit your words before they leave your mouth. I don’t even know them, and I like your family more than I like you.”
“Everyone does.” He says it like it’s an undisputed fact—like the earth is round or that Friends could have gone on forever and only gotten better. “That’s not what I want to talk about. If you don’t want me to order you coffee or breakfast, have a seat.”
“I’m not interested enough in anything you have to say to get comfortable.”
He shakes his head and fists my keys after one last circle around his finger. “Fine. I’ll get to it. I did not look into your father because I wanted to trap you or report you. Hell, the last thing I thought I’d find is that you were the one who took him.”
“Then why did you do it?”
He shrugs a lazy shoulder. “I’m not going to blow smoke up your arse and tell you it was purely selfless. Part of it was, but not all of it.”
“Why do you care about where my father is?”
“I don’t care, per se. I did find it interesting that your stepmum went apeshit when she found out—but not from worry. And you weren’t concerned in the slightest.”
“You witnessed a private moment without knowing anything about the dynamics of my family. Newsflash, Mr. Donnelly, what you see in public is not reality.”
“Again with the formalities,” he mutters as he leans forward to rest his forearms on his desk.
“I used to read people for a living. My curiosity means I’m nosy as fuck, Harlow.
But I also watched you go through some shit.
Your stepmum is a bitch, and it’s clear the man you were engaged to had a whole different side to him that’s no good. I thought you could use a break.”
My eyes narrow, because I can’t believe what he’s saying. “So you’re saying you looked into my father as a favor to me?”
He proves there’s no bullshit to him, just like he claimed. “Not completely. Remember the nosy as fuck part? I’d say it was ... thirty percent for you.”
My brows rise. “Thirty?”
He leans back in his chair and returns to twirling my keys. “Okay, forty percent. But the rest was to satisfy my craving for information.”
The man is odder than I gave him credit for. “What exactly were you going to do with the information?”
“Until I found out you kidnapped your own father and planned to pin it on his wife?” Another twirl of the keys. “I was going to tell you.”
“So it was sixty-forty for you over me, but you did it to tell me. There’s no logic in that.”
“Does there have to be?”
“Yes. You seem like someone who appreciates logic.” I drop my arms and plant my hands on my hips. “You did it for me more than you, and you’re not willing to admit it.”
“Logic rarely comes into play in human nature when emotions are involved. I promise, that’s not the case.”
I take a step forward. “And you bought me flowers.”
He points at me with my key fobs. “Wrong again. Those were in the café and are three days old. New ones arrived today. I simply moved them to the suite to get your attention so you didn’t miss my note.”
I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. “You repurposed flowers for me?”
This time it’s his turn to frown. “You like that?”
My smile pulls wider. “I like it better than the flowers themselves.”
He stares at me like I’m an odd science experiment that he doesn’t understand. “You’ve proven my point that logic flies out the window when it comes to humans. You’re not like most women.”
“And I’ve never met anyone so grumpy who goes out of his way to be selfish to cover up the fact he’s done something nice.”
“I’ve hardly done anything nice.”
I pause and decide to think about that later. “Before we have more lessons on the lack of logic when it comes to human nature, I need to know something. Are you going to tell anyone that I moved my father?”
“Yeah,” he drawls. “Janie Madison is a real gem. I’ll rat you out later today.”
“Last night when you told me that you learned it was me...” I don’t look away from him as I finally take a seat, cross my legs, and let out a sigh of relief. “That’s exactly what I thought you were going to do. Or worse—officially report me to ... someone.”
He tries to defend himself. “You ran off and didn’t give me a chance to explain.”
I lean back feeling comfortable for the first time since I finished my risotto last night.
“I might’ve run off, but all you had to do was explain.
The way I see it, it’s sixty percent your fault.
You had the element of surprise. All you had to do was put it out there.
You’re the one with communication issues. ”
He lifts his chin. “I’ll take that as long as you tell me something.”
“You’re awfully demanding for someone who has no stake in this horrid game that’s become my life.”
“You forgot the fact I’m housing you. You’re basically a stray at this point.”
I roll my eyes. “You got me there. What do you want to know? And whatever it is, I reserve the right not to tell you.”
“Why did you do it?”
“I’ve done a lot of things in the last few days, Devon. Which one are you talking about?”
The threat of me attacking him for my keys must have waned, because he drops them on the desk between us. “Kidnap your father.”
“I didn’t kidnap him. I took responsibility for him—there’s a big difference.
It needed to happen for a while, but Janie wouldn’t reason with me.
Hell, she wouldn’t even listen to me. Then his doctors shut me out when I tried to discuss his condition, which was her pulling her medical power of attorney.
He’s comatose. Even before when he was lucid, he demanded to know things about his health and Stonebridge.
Janie offered him no real answers. She said it was because she didn’t want to cause him stress.
Then he got worse. I’m no doctor, but I know they weren’t doing enough.
Something has been off for weeks. Now, more than ever, I need his health to improve, so I took matters into my own hands and hired a team of doctors I trust.”
“So you waited until you were supposed to say I do and had a medivac whisk him away?”
I defend myself. “It was the first time I had the opportunity. Janie was always around. It wasn’t easy, by the way.”
He shakes his head. “I doubt it was.”
“Why does it feel like you’re judging me?”
“I’m impressed, Harlow. And now wondering if I’m the one who needs to worry about sleeping in the same suite as you.”
“Hardly,” I mutter as my stomach growls.
He changes the subject. “Now that we’ve got this out of the way, are you running away or are you staying?”
“Are you going to keep my secret?”
“Until I have a reason not to. The way I see it, I have something to hang over your head. If you run off into the night, I may have to call Janie,” he threatens but he does it with a smile.
Still, there’s a bit of truth there.
And not in the sixty-forty way.
It’s definitely fifty-fifty.
I stand to reach for the key fobs. “I’m hungry, and I want to see my new car.”
But he’s faster than me and swipes them up. “I could eat. And I haven’t been off the property since before you got here. We could both use a change of scenery.”
“Where to?”
“To town.”
I can’t help the excitement. This is what I was looking forward to when I decided to stay in Winslet. “I need to run upstairs and get my purse. I don’t have my license or my wallet.”
Devon pulls the heavy door open with one hand and tosses my keys into the air before catching them. “No need. I’ll drive.”
“But it’s my car.”
“There are a lot of things to learn about me, Harlow. No one drives me but me.”
“That’s so ... I don’t know. Controlling.” After I move through the door, Devon shuts and locks it behind us. I can’t help but think about his case that ended his career. “I have a feeling there are a lot of things to learn about you.”
He puts a hand to my back and gives me a nudge. The next thing I know, he leans forward enough that his lips are only a few inches from my ear. “Says the woman who dumped her fiancé on the world stage and kidnapped her father out from under the medical staff in his own home.”
Well.
I can’t argue with that.
Plus, I’m starving, and I can’t wait to go to town. I haven’t been to downtown Winslet in years.