Chapter 14 Honest
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HONEST
DEVON
I’m not shallow enough to value a job as much as I did my best mate, but since they died at the same time, I can’t think of one without the other. Hugh and my career go hand in hand like fish and chips, but in this case, they rattle around in my gut like a pile of thorns.
Yeah, I’ll always mourn my friend and my job.
The only drawback of working in intelligence was the problem of finding someone to settle down with.
Dad had our mum. She’s solid gold and was everything our family needed.
There was no way Dad could’ve had a family and his career without her.
Our lives never lacked because of her sacrifices.
It wasn’t easy for her when Dad was away on a mission, sometimes for weeks or months at a time.
Bella and her husband Carson don’t count. They’re cut from the same cloth and found each other when they were on the job. They might’ve had to fight their way out of the hell they were thrown into by both of their agencies, but ever since, they’re thriving in life and work.
Finding a woman between assignments was difficult. Finding one to stick around was damn near impossible. I’ve been with my fair share over the years, but finding someone I want to stick it out with?
Not even close.
Couple that with my winning personality—sarcastically speaking, of course—and I take the improbable to impossible.
All that to say, I’ve never been with a woman long enough to experience the silent treatment. And since I’m the farthest thing from being with Harlow Madison, it’s been an experience.
She stormed through the front door of the suite and shut herself in her bedroom. From what I’ve learned about her the last few days, she might be pissed enough to pretend I don’t exist, but she’s too polite to slam a door.
I’m not sure what a woman hopes to accomplish by the silent treatment, but I must be immune or have a stronger will than her.
I followed her all the way to the spa, told them to do whatever she asked, and sat my ass in a chair like the stalker I never thought I’d be.
The desire to stay close to her when someone associated with Turner is anywhere near is overwhelming.
And by near, I mean anywhere in the western half of the bloody red, white, and blue.
Could it be a coincidence?
I guess.
Chance is a bitch and should never be ruled out.
But with no hit on that credit card since before the event that ended my career and took the life of my friend, I call bullshit. It being swiped for the first time in this hemisphere could be a coincidence, but at my business?
No fucking way.
Pile that on top of the way Roman Malloy was looking at Harlow...
Happenstance or not, I’m not willing to overlook it. The woman can be irritated at me all day, every day for the rest of her time in my suite.
It’s no skin off my back. I live with darker marks on my soul.
I ignore the anxious feeling of needing to be closer to her and rap on the bedroom door. “Ready to go?”
The blaring TV goes silent, but she doesn’t answer.
I wait another moment before putting my knuckles to the wood again for another knock. “We have reservations in fifteen minutes, Harlow. We’ll be late.”
That does it. I hear stomping across the floor before she flips the lock and rips the antique door open so hard, I worry about the original hinges malfunctioning. She glares up at me, her face is as fresh as a sunny day from her time in the spa, even though her expression is straight from hell.
Damn. I really brought out the ire in her.
I take her in from head to toe and realize how much there is to appreciate. From a wedding dress to cutoff shorts, the longer I’m around this woman, the more she winds me up tighter than a steel coil.
“You have a thick skull,” she bites. “I told you earlier, and I’ll tell you again, I’m not having dinner with you.”
I step forward and lean a shoulder onto the door jamb so she can’t shut the damn thing in my face.
“You have to eat, and so do I. We might as well take advantage of the weather and share a meal. We can’t do that with eighteen inches of snow on the ground—something you’ll have to get used to since you live here now. ”
She narrows her eyes. “You know, despite how the media likes to portray me, I do not walk around dripping in diamonds with a gold spoon stuck in my mouth. I grew up in New York City. I can handle cold weather.”
I bite back a smirk. “I was just thinking about all your layers, but you sloshing through the snow in a jeweled crown was not one of them. I won’t even touch you sucking on a gold spoon. Thanks for that visual.”
She narrows her eyes and reaches for the door handle. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to watch a movie—which I have not done in months—do my best to pass out, and hope that you’ll be too busy to follow me around tomorrow.”
“Come on, Harlow,” I lower my voice. “I promise you won’t regret having dinner with me.”
“That’s a big promise, as I regret most of my choices for the last six months of my life.”
And that right there is what I want to know more of, but I don’t admit that aloud. “What do I need to do to convince you to have dinner with me?”
She huffs a laugh that’s nowhere near humorous. “There is no amount of bribery in the world that will make me leave this room.”
I shake my head. “There has to be something. You need to eat, and I promise to make sure you get the exact amount of food so not one crumb goes to waste.”
Her dark eyes narrow. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m damn serious. You have enough on your plate—and I don’t mean food. If you give me a minute, I’ll prove to you that I’m not here to add to your stress.”
“Yet you planned out my day for me to do things I didn’t want to do.” She enunciates every word as if we don’t speak the same language.
I say nothing, but I do smile. I refuse to apologize for that.
She exhales like she’s holding the weight of the world on her shoulders, which may be the case.
“It’s dinner. If you don’t want to talk to me, you don’t have to.
You’ve proven you’re more than comfortable in my presence without uttering a word.
Come on. I promise you a view you won’t soon forget.
But you need to get your arse in gear, or you’ll miss it.
You might’ve returned to Winslet to live in your grandmother’s old house, but it’s not a hardship to be here.
There’s a reason I’m booked solid through the next three seasons.
It’d be a shame to sit in this room and miss it. ”
She stares up at me as she mulls that thought over in her beautiful head. Finally, she hikes a brow. “I’ll go on one condition.”
A tinge of excitement laced with something else simmers inside me. It’s so foreign, I barely recognize it, but it feels like desperation. Instead of admitting I’ll do anything, I ask, “What do you want?”
“I’m tired of being the one interrogated. If I agree to dinner, you have to answer every question I ask for a change.”
“Easy enough.” That was quicker than I’ve agreed to anything else for as long as I can remember. “Let’s go.”
She puts her hand on the antique wood like she changed her mind and wants to slam it no matter if I’m standing in the way or not. “I can’t go to dinner looking like this. I need to get ready.”
The desperation that nipped at my arse a few minutes ago surfaces. “You’re not going to lock yourself in there and ignore me again, are you?”
“You’re lucky I like sunsets.”
I lift my chin and take a step back. “Five minutes or you’ll miss it. It would be a shame to have to wait a whole day for the next one.”
She shuts the door in my face. When I hear the water run from her bathroom, I realize she’s actually going to have dinner with me. And I might’ve found Harlow’s weakness.
Sunsets.
Lucky for me, there’s one a day. I can work with that.
I can’t remember the last time I stumbled upon some luck. It’s small, but with the ghost of Turner lurking, I’ll take what little I can get.
Harlow
Ididn’t lie. I love sunsets.
There is little else that could’ve lured me from my room in Devon’s suite besides this.
Even if I do have to look past the devilish Brit to enjoy it.
I’m not sure how he does it, but Devon proves he can be a gentleman while being absolutely infuriating at the same time.
After we walked silently to the pier as I pretended I was not hungry, he pulled out the chair that offered me a front and center view of the mainstage.
That was right before he sat directly in my line of sight to the big event.
Still, he wasn’t wrong.
Even if he was in the way, the sunset was nothing short of spectacular.
Golds and fiery oranges are burned in my memory before they disappeared all too quickly behind the mountains.
The reflection off the water only enhanced the experience before the blazing ball of fire put itself to bed and the stars took over.
Our waiter refills our wine from the bottle that was waiting on us when we arrived at the singular, private table set just for two.
I pick up the glass of cabernet. “Thank you.”
Before our waiter has a chance to respond, Devon breaks the silence that has hung between us like a heavy wet blanket.
He fingers the crystal stem of his glass as his gaze bores into me.
“I’d order dessert, but I have no idea if you’ll eat it.
I’m doing everything I can to stand by my word and not let one bite go to waste. ”
I hike a brow. “Maybe we should discuss how your business could donate food to a local shelter or a foodbank that would otherwise go to waste.”
Devon looks up at the waiter. “We’ll pass on dessert. Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Donnelly. I’ll check back in a bit.”
The waiter disappears into the starlit night, and Devon breaks through the silence he’s allowed me to enjoy until now. “I’ve been in Winslet for a couple years and had no idea there was a foodbank. If there is one, we’ll get on that right away.”