23. Chapter 22
Chapter 22
Harvey
My team and I gather in the boardroom, with a sleek, glass walled space overlooking the city skyline. The long-polished table is scattered with open laptops and coffee cups, each person absorbed in their screens. There are eighteen of them sitting under the fluorescent lights of the room, while I stand at the front of the table, my own laptop projecting slides. The room hums with quiet murmurs, fingers tapping on keyboards, and pens scraping along paper.
At exactly nine o’clock, I start the meeting, glancing at Silas, one of my employees, who sits with a stack of papers and a focused expression.
“What’s the latest on the financials?” I ask.
His eyes flick up from his notes. “Our target company has seen a twenty percent growth in the last quarter.”
I nod, taking in the information. “What’s the timeline for full takeover?”
“Six to twelve months,” he replies, typing quickly. “It depends on how smoothly we can integrate their systems with ours.”
“We need to consider how this will impact our cash reserves,” I say, scribbling a note on my notepad.
A buzz interrupts me. Jemima’s name flashes on my phone. I glance at it, knowing I can’t ignore her. She never reaches out, and the curiosity eats at me.
Jemima: (picture of a slice of cake) I’m planning to eat all this. You’ll have to bake more.
Keeping one ear on the conversation in front of me, I quickly type a response.
Me: I can bake something else.
“Alright, I need a risk assessment written by the end of the day tomorrow,” I say to Janet, who nods as she taps away on her keyboard.
“Got it,” Janet replies, focused on her screen.
Jemima: I’d prefer you never bake for me again.
Me: Why?
Jemima: I like it when you’re mean. It’s easier to hate you.
Me: I’ll have to kiss you more then.
My fingers hold the phone a moment longer, the words a little bolder than I intended. I try to shake off the tightness in my chest, but I can’t deny the way her reply stirs something inside me, like a dare I can’t resist. There’s a rush inside. My gaze shifts back to the room, forcing myself to refocus as I try to keep my composure. We continue running through the rest of the agenda and after an hour, it’s time I wrap up. “Thanks, everyone. Let’s make sure we cover all our bases before moving forward. Meeting adjourned.”
The team begins to pack up, and I review my notes on my laptop as they all file out. I take one last look at Jemima’s text. She hasn’t replied. Finishing my notes, I head over to Esme’s desk to handle any waiting tasks and approvals.
After completing my work at the office, I head to Recaredo Events, ready to finish my day there. My mind keeps drifting to Jemima. The kiss we shared is seared into my brain and I want more. Spending time with her makes me feel alive, heard, capable, and appreciated.
She’s lived a life much harder than anyone I know, and fuck, she’s still crawling her way through the damage. All I want to do is help her. She deserves to be happy. I’ve never met anyone more deserving. Starting with her bland and non-existent office decor… She deserves to let go of the past. This is her company, and it needs life injected into it. I’m going to pay for it as a gift for her.
I make a call on my way and organize for Susie, my interior decorator, to come over in the next hour. Jemima will be back from lunch soon, and I want her to meet Susie.
When I arrive at the office, I walk past Jemima’s. Instead of her usual hard expression, she greets me with a soft, “Hello.”
“Do you have any appointments in the next two hours?” I ask, approaching her desk. She swivels her chair to face me, her curiosity evident.
“No, why?”
“I’ve arranged for an interior designer friend to come by and discuss updating your office.”
Raising an eyebrow, she leans back. “A lady friend.”
“Jealousy looks good on you,” I tease, enjoying the flush of color on her cheeks.
She snorts with an eye roll. “You wish. I’m not a jealous person.”
I put my hands on her desk and lean in closer, my voice dropping to a low murmur. “If it makes you feel better, I haven’t slept with her. And won’t.”
“You can do whatever you want, I don't care,” she challenges me, her gaze locked onto mine.
“I don’t know about you, but that kiss meant something to me,” I fire back, the hurt seeping into my tone.
“Shh, Molly’s out there,” she hisses, her eyes darting to the door.
“Even better. I’m a dirty little secret,” I mutter as my frustration boils over. It’s not the first time I’ve felt like we’re sneaking around, but this just feels different. A part of me wants to call it out, to demand more, but I know that’s not the game we’re playing. Yet. The heat in my chest intensifies, and I can't quite figure out why I’m so torn. I should be content, but the secrecy is eating away at me.
“It’s not that. Can we refocus?”
I push off her desk, trying to compose myself. “Susie will be here soon. She’ll discuss updating this place with you.”
Her face changes into a hard expression. “I don’t want to change anything.”
“I’m paying for it.”
She crosses her arms. “I don’t need a handout.”
“I know. But this place is so boring. It should reflect who you are.”
“And simple isn't me?” she challenges.
“No. Not one fucking bit. You’re anything but simple.”
“What am I, then?” she presses.
I storm back to her desk. “Elegant, strong, intelligent, beautiful… just to name a few. Anything but this.” I gesture at the white peeling walls, the outdated wooden desk, and the small, cluttered bookshelf.
“I can do it later. It’s not important right now.”
“I’m here to help. So let me fucking help. Working in a warm, inviting environment boosts productivity. It will make a better impression on clients.”
We have a stare-off, the tension thick, before she finally snaps. “Fine. Let me know when she’s here.”
God, I want to fucking kiss her challenging ass so bad right now. But I hold back the urge and pull away, not wanting to make a mess of the papers. Leaning down, I try to gently pull my tie from the stack when I hear the unmistakable snap of the stapler. "Dammit," I mutter, looking down to find my tie firmly fastened to the documents.
I try to untangle it, but the more I tug, the tighter it digs into the fabric. With a frustrated sigh, I grab the scissors from her desk, cutting carefully around the staple. Finally free, I smooth out the tie, catching the sound of her soft giggle as I head to my office.
“You know,” she calls out after me. “If you’d actually keep it tied, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”
An hour later, Susie arrives. Jemima comes out when she hears her voice.
Jemima greets her with unexpected warmth, which surprises me. I expected her to say she doesn’t require her services.
Molly joins us, and we start explaining what the company is about and its needs. Susie takes notes and asks questions along the way. She designed my office and she’s good at what she does.
We show her the empty rooms and discuss the need for two offices now, with the possibility of more in the future. There’s one room with nothing in it, and an idea sparks in me. “How about setting up a kids’ area! You have spare rooms. That way, when you're meeting with clients, you have this waiting room that’s suitable for children,” I suggest, glancing at Jemima.
Her cheeks flush slightly, and a shy smile appears.
The earlier Jemima is gone and has been replaced with the softer version. The dangerous version. Her challenging one is safer, familiar… Our kiss changed things for me, and part of me thinks it changed things for her too.
“I never thought about that, but it could be great for the kids.”
“What’s he into?” Susie asks.
“Basketball,” Jemima and I answer simultaneously, exchanging a smile.
Susie turns to Molly to discuss what Hugo would like. Jemima explains she wants to support future hires with children, providing toys for all ages of kids, and comforts to accommodate their needs. She also mentions having options for last-minute babysitting.
My eyes twitch at her offering people to bring in their kids to work, but she explains paying for babysitters or a short-term-only plan. Like for an hour if they need to come in for a meeting or their kids are sick.
As Jemima talks, I wonder how many of my staff could benefit from having help with their kids so they could work and potentially perform better?
I quickly send an email to Esme, requesting her to send out an email with a form for each of my workers to fill out. The questionnaire will include how many kids they have, their ages, if they’re facing challenges with childcare, and whether they’d use a program if it were available. This will help me determine if I need to implement something like that within my businesses.
Susie takes detailed notes. “I’ll design a concept and show it to you. Now, let’s discuss the rest.”
For the next hour, Susie goes over colors, textures, and design ideas. Jemima’s excitement is palpable, and I find myself captivated by her energy. Her enthusiasm is contagious, and I watch her, mesmerised.
Before Susie and Molly leave, I show pictures of my own office. Their eyes bulge from their sockets. I appreciate finer things, which motivates me to keep working hard.
Returning to my office, I focus on organizing Oliver’s events for next year before switching to the new software system setup. I call up any new inquiries and schedule design meetings, eager to share the results with Jemima. I can’t wait to show her this.
The shift in the office energy makes my head lift, alerting me to her presence. She stands at the door, her back straight. I go to rise and greet her, but she gives me a subtle shake of her head.
“Chad is sick again. The school just called,” she says, her arms wrapped tightly around her stomach.
“Is he okay?” I ask rising, stepping closer, ignoring her earlier warning and gently touching her arm.
“He has a fever. He must be coming down with the flu,” she says, worry evident in her voice.
“Take a few days off to care for him. Fuck, look after yourself,” I insist, my concern genuine.
She looks from under her dark lashes at me as she whispers, “Thank you.”
“Give me your work to do.”
She hesitates. “No, it’s okay. It can wait.”
“Your tasks will only grow. Give them to me. Nothing is too difficult.”
“It’s not that.” She sighs, avoiding my gaze.
My brow furrows, not understanding. “What is it then?”
Her cheeks flush as she looks away quickly. “I don’t want to give another guy control over my finances.”
I pull her into a hug, her arms immediately wrapping around me. “I understand. But I’m not like him. I’m here to help. You can come back and take over when you’re ready. It’s temporary.”
Her head moves on my chest, probably feeling how hard my heart is pounding. She feels so right in my arms; I don’t want to let her go.
“I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“No. Chad needs you.” I want to tell her that I need her too, but now isn’t the right time. Even hugging her is hard to stop when her warm body is pressed against mine. Usually, I fuck a woman and she leaves as soon as we’re finished. There’d be no hugging or kissing. It was a scratch I needed scratching, but with her, I want to hold, kiss, and never let go.
“I better show you what I was working on so I can go pick him up.”
She pulls away, a visible shudder running through her. I follow her into her office, trying to behave and keep my hands to myself despite the intense urge to hold her.
As she sits down and starts explaining her work, my gaze drifts to her lips. Her focus is on the task at hand, but my thoughts are consumed with how much I want to kiss her again.
These thoughts are so inappropriate, and when I work, I don’t usually think like this, hence why I haven’t fucked anyone I work with. My casual fucks were always when I went out.
“You’ve been doing this all on your own?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s a lot,” she admits.
“You're so stubborn. I wish you’d told me sooner.”
Her head tilts so her eyes meet mine, and the intensity makes my heart race. My eyes drop to her cupid's bow, and all I want is to close the distance and taste her again.
“Take over until I return.”
“I won’t let you down,” I assure her, as I hold her gaze. Her eyes flicker with torment as she murmurs, “I hope not.”
“I promise. If you want updates, call or text, and I’ll show you what I’m doing.”
“Don’t tempt me,” she says, a small smile playing on her lips.
“If it makes you feel better, do it,” I reply, understanding how hard it is for her.
She takes a small step back, but her feet seem rooted to the spot, her shoulders tense as if she's fighting against herself. Her gaze drops for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag, unwilling to let go, to let me take control.
“Okay, thanks.” Her voice falters slightly, but she forces herself to turn, her movements stiff. As she walks away, each step is more reluctant than the last.
“Let me know how he is,” I say, genuinely wanting an update.
I can feel the air around us shift. I watch her closely. Her breaths quicken into a pant, her lips parting slightly as if she’s about to say something but doesn’t. The electricity in this room is at an all-time high, and I can’t hold back. Workplace or not, I take the kiss I’ve been desperate for. I lean in and press a quick kiss to her soft lips, and when she kisses me back, it’s everything I could’ve wanted.
Fuck, I’ve missed her.
What is she doing to me?
We pull apart, and she walks away. I stand there, unable to move, my heart racing. At the door, she pauses and takes a quick glance over her shoulder, her eyes meeting mine. I flash her a grin, and her pretty cheeks flush a deep crimson color.
I sit in her chair and get started, reading the files a welcome distraction, looking at the words but not reading, unable to focus. This is the only way I’ll be able to stop myself from following her.
I’ve been at her desk working for four hours, but I’m unable to concentrate. I check my phone again, unlocking it with a quick swipe, only to see the same empty screen. No new messages with an update. I click on our message thread, hoping a new one might appear. But nothing does. I google what to give kids when they are sick with the flu, then I call my driver and get him to stop by the stores with a list, from medicine to food. Just as I’m about to have him deliver it along with my card, I change my mind.
I need to see her.
Me: Is everything okay?
Jemima: Sorry, I completely left you high and dry.
Me: Yeah, I was about to come down and see if you’re alive.
Jemima: We’re very much alive. (She sends a picture of them watching The Lion King.)
Me: I send a picture of her front door.
A moment later, the door swings open. She runs a hand through her messy bun and asks breathily, “What are you doing here?”
“I brought you and Chad stuff to help him get better,” I say, holding up the bags.
Frowning, her eyes drop to the bags. “You know I’ve got this handled.”
My lip’s part into a knowing grin. “Oh, I know.”
“Harvey?” Chad's weak voice calls from inside.
My eyes dart past her shoulders. She sighs.
“I can’t get rid of you now,” she murmurs with a hint of amusement in her tone.
“At least someone wants me around,” I say, giving her a wink as I enter their apartment. I don’t plan to stay long. I just wanted to check on Chad.
The space isn’t big, and it only takes a few steps to see him lying on the sofa, watching The Lion King . As soon as he spots me, he tries to sit up.
“Stay there.” I smile.
Chad nods with half a smile, his cheeks red with fever. He resettles, laying his head back down.
“I got you some things, but I need to get Mom’s approval first,” I say, winking. His eyes widen a fraction.
Moving into the kitchen, she’s stirring something on the stove that smells of onion and spices. As if she can read my mind, she tells me.
“It’s chicken noodle soup. Chad's favorite.”
“Do you need a hand?” I ask.
“No. But what did you bring?” A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips.
I pull each item out of the bags and place them on the counter. “medicine, Pedialyte, popsicles, Vicks VapoRub, Tylenol, ibuprofen, crackers, pretzels, strawberries, eggs, peanut butter, watermelon, and potatoes.”
“This is a weird mix.” She laughs, shaking her head.
My eyebrows pull together as I take in the items. “I followed what I found online. Is it wrong?”
She sorts through the things, her movements calm, but there's a softness in her voice when she speaks. “No. You didn’t have to do all this.” Pausing, her fingers gently brush over the items. “A few of these would’ve been plenty.”
I shrug. “It wasn’t expensive.”
She steps closer to me. “Not everything is about money.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“Most people would only buy a few items.”
“I’m not most people,” I deadpan.
She shakes her head, her eyes trailing over my body before meeting mine again. My eyebrows lift at her obvious inspection. “Oh, I know.”
I lean forward and whisper in her ear, “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Mommy, when do you die?” Chad calls out, and I’m taken aback by the question.
Our eyes move to the screen to watch as Mufasa falls and dies.
“Not for a very long time, sweetheart,” she reassures him.
He seems happy with that and doesn’t ask anything else.
“Is that normal?” I whisper.
“Pretty much. Whatever pops into his mind, he asks.”
I watch Chad, fascinated. “He’s a pretty cool kid.”
“He is, isn't he?”
I nod. And I don’t tell her I’ve had a change of heart in my fears about kids. I’m trying to find the best time to tell her.
“I’ll go sit with Chad before I leave,” I say and walk back to Chad to watch the beginning of the movie with him.
A little while later, Jemima calls out, “Dinner’s ready.”
“It’s time for me to go, but I hope you feel better soon, buddy,” I say, roughing up his blond hair.
“Please stay for dinner,” Chad begs with sad eyes. What is it about his face and voice that make me unable to say no?
“You can’t say no,” Jemima whispers behind me, startling me.
“How do kids do it?” I ask, turning to her.
“They know they’re cute, so they suck you in.”
But as I take in her adorable face and messy bun, I know I’m not going anywhere. Turning to Chad, I say, “Looks like I’m staying for dinner.”
With as much enthusiasm as he can muster while sick, he says, “Yay.”
“Come join the table, Chad,” she orders. I follow her to a small table that’s up against the wall with three chairs around it. She lowers the bowls and silverware.
Jemima points at the nearest chair. “Come have a seat.”
Soup was also given to me as a kid by my mom and grandma. It was really good, but this is better.
We eat in silence. Chad finishes first.
“Can I leave the table now?”
“Yes,” Jemima says. “But dishes go in the sink.”
I smile around my spoon at the command.
He takes his seat on the sofa and hits play on the movie again.
After I finish eating, I take my bowl and start cleaning up.
She leans over, touching my hands. “Don’t. I’ll do it later.”
Her face is so close to mine. If I dipped my head, I could kiss her. My eyes drop to her lips, but I refrain.
“Let me help, it will get done quicker,” I whisper across her lips.
As her eyes soften and she gives up the fight, we stare at each other for a moment. She snaps out of the daze and grabs a towel to dry while I wash. “When was the last time you washed a dish?” she asks.
“Today.”
“I wasn’t talking about now.”
“Yesterday.”
She nods, her lips pressed together, her eyes narrowing in thought.
“Nothing to say?” I ask, my voice light but with a hint of curiosity.
“No, I'm just surprised, that's all.” She shrugs, her shoulders relaxed, but I can see the glint of surprise still lingering in her eyes.
“There are plenty more surprises up my sleeve than just my ability to wash dishes, you know.”
My eyes twinkle with a devilish smirk.
Bumping my shoulder as she dries the last spoon, she smiles. “One’s enough.”
But is it? Time will tell.
Once the dishes are done, and Chad is half asleep, I know it’s time for me to leave so he can rest. I say goodbye to him, and we fist pump before Jemima walks me to the door.
“Before I go, I want to give you this,” I say, handing her the black card. Her eyes drop to it, then back up to mine. “One, nine, nine, one,” I add, giving her my password.
Her lip’s part, and a squeak comes out before she clears her throat. “What’s this for?”
“Take Chad and you shopping tomorrow.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“He’s sick, and I’m not asking for money.”
“It’s only an hour. One department store…”
She narrows her eyes at me.
“I’m not taking it back,” I say firmly, my gaze steady. “So buy yourself a new wardrobe and get Chad anything he needs for school and home.”
“This feels wrong.”
She’s really upset.
“Please do this for me. It will make me feel better knowing I’m looking after you.”
“I don’t need rescuing.”
“I never said that’s what I’m doing, did I?
“Not in words, but in actions.”
I sigh, unable to get her to see I want to help.
“When’s the last time you bought something for yourself?”
She stares blankly at me. The wheels are turning in her head, she’s trying so hard. “Before he went away.” She exhales heavily.
By him she means her ex. The one who should’ve protected her, spoiled her, and cared for her.
I grab her hand in mine and dust my thumb over her knuckles. “I know this isn't something you're used to, because you're strong and can stand on your own, but I want to show you what being taken care of is like.”
She stares at me momentarily before nodding.
I kiss her forehead. “I’ll have my driver pick you up.”
She waves her hand. “No. I’ll do it, but no driver.”
I swallow a smile, but I ask, “Why?”
“I don’t want Chad thinking your life is normal.”
I let out a shaky laugh, ignoring the slight twinge in my chest. Who would’ve thought a woman wouldn’t want to be flooded with gifts. This is a sign that she isn’t like anyone I’ve been interested in.
But she doesn't elaborate, and I hate how much she dislikes my money.
“Thanks for dinner,” I say, leaning in to kiss her cheek, when she suddenly moves so our lips collide.
I’m slightly in shock, but her hands grab my waist, pulling me closer, so our bodies are flush. Her silent ask for more makes me lose control. I grab her head with my hands and kiss her ferociously. My tongue skims her lips, begging to enter, and she parts them eagerly. I tilt my head to change the angle so I can kiss her deeper, and before I let my hands roam all over her body, I step back, reminding myself where I am.
“Goodnight, buttercup.”