4. James
4
JAMES
M iguel gave me a quick salute as I sped up the driveway, my security guard as diligent as always, even in the middle of the night. I might have kept a penthouse above the club for convenience sake, but this was my home. This held the person most precious to me.
Having Miguel on site helped with many of my concerns, but there were some safety issues he wasn’t capable of addressing. I peered in the rearview mirror to make sure the iron gate at the end of the driveway swung closed behind me. Couldn’t be too careful.
I took the marble steps to my front door two at a time, scanning the windows and glass door to see if I could spot them. The second I stepped into the foyer, I heard the wailing.
“Harper, honey, I’m here,” I shouted, my voice echoing around the space. “Jess? Where are you two?”
My sister Jessica’s footsteps echoed down the hall long before I saw her. She came around the corner clutching Harper, her cheek pressed against my daughter’s white-blonde hair. Seeing Harper’s tiny face, red and splotchy, fractured my heart for the millionth time.
“See? I told you he’d be home soon,” Jessica cooed, stroking her back. My wild-child sister was shockingly good at comforting her niece. “Auntie Jess would never lie to you.”
“Thanks,” I mouthed as she shifted Harper into my arms.
“Daddy,” she hiccupped, snuggling into my neck. “I had another bad dream.”
Jess nodded, her mouth in a tight line. “It’s been l-o-u-d and i-n-t-e-n-s-e,” she spelled out so Harper wouldn’t understand. “Like nothing I’ve experienced.”
We were both used to speaking in code about Harper’s issues. My baby girl had been having a rough time of it for a while now—but hopefully the latest hiring decision I’d made would help with that. Something had to get better. The situation wasn’t sustainable.
I stomped down the guilt at not being there for my daughter tonight. It was bad enough when I couldn’t be there for her because I was working. The fact that she’d been terrified, having one of those night terrors she’d been having more and more frequently, while I’d been losing myself in some woman I barely knew…
God, I was an asshole.
I held Harper tight, as much for my own well-being as for hers. Reassuring us both that she was ok.
Harper was finally calming in my arms, her breathing evening out to occasional hiccups. “Thank you for looking after her tonight, Jess. You can head out now if you want.”
She pulled out her phone to check the time. “No way, I’m too tired to drive.”
We exchanged a glance. Jess and late-night driving weren’t a great combination.
“Your room is always ready, feel free.” I jutted my head toward the staircase. “Will you stay for breakfast with us?”
She yawned. “I’ll never turn down Bernardo’s huevos rancheros, you know that. And we need to talk, so give me a few minutes before you rush out the door tomorrow. Good night, you two.”
Harper pulled back and pouted up at me. “I’m hungry. Can you get Bernardo to make me something?”
“Honey, Bernardo’s left for the day. But I can do it. Anything you want!”
She frowned. “Daddy, you don’t know how to cook.”
Ouch. My kid was as brutally honest as I was.
“I can cook cereal,” I teased. “And a bowl of fruit. And pretzels.”
The beginnings of a smile played around Harper’s mouth. “That’s not cooking!”
“Hm, let’s think… Oh, I can also cook ice cream !” I rocked her back and forth and finally coaxed a laugh out of her. The juxtaposition of her tear-stained face and crooked smile was an all-too-familiar sight, but I still wasn’t used to my daughter’s shifting emotions. I never knew when the storms would show up but I would do anything to see her smile.
“Yes, ice cream, Daddy!”
“Off we go, then,” I said, galloping down the marble hallway to the kitchen, my exhaustion forgotten in my efforts to cheer her. The sound of her laughter echoing around me was enough to convince me we’d weathered this storm—at least for now.
After depositing Harper on the wide center island in the kitchen, I got to work opening and closing cabinets, looking for the right bowls.
Why did I have so many different sized wine glasses? So many dishes? It seemed silly, when it was just Harper and me. The two of us against the world.
Then again, everything in my house was outsized. I’d wanted a beautiful spot to raise my daughter and I was willing to pay whatever it took to get it. Our home looked like an Italian villa, with tall arched windows and a half dozen balconies off the back that overlooked the pool and the blue waters of Biscayne Bay. It was paradise, but since the incident, it had felt a little closer to hell on earth. Especially late at night, when it was just the two of us.
I wonder what Katie would say about this huge empty house, I wondered, then scolded myself for thinking of her.
I was never going to see her again. I rarely hooked up with women from the club these days anyway—the risk of pissing off a potential influencer was just too high—but I decided then and there I was going to stop. At least until I felt like Harper was in a better place.
I didn’t want anything, or anyone, distracting me from her when she needed me.
“Bowls are over there, Daddy,” Harper laughed, pointing to a cupboard on the other side of the room.
I winced at the reminder that my daughter knew where the bowls were because she was spending too much time in the kitchen. My housekeeper, Vida, had been filling in as nanny temporarily. I felt horrible asking it of her, knowing how busy she was, but she was one of the few people Harper still trusted.
Now wasn’t the time to think about it.
“Two ice cream sundaes, coming right up!” I said, holding the bowls in the air. At least I knew where we kept the damn ice cream. I pulled open the doublewide Subzero and surveyed our many choices. “Chocolate, Miss Morris?”
“Yes please. With sprinkles and chocolate sauce. And whippy.”
“ Oui, oui , whipped cream, of course,” I replied in a French accent as I collected the rest of the ingredients. Long ago, before the incident, Harper had been learning French with a private tutor. Back when she was an eager, clever little girl who trusted everyone and didn’t realize there were bad people out there. How I missed that version of her.
I scooped tiny servings into each bowl, hiding the fact that it wasn’t much ice cream under some artfully arranged whipped cream. It was three thirty in the morning and neither of us needed anything too rich in our stomachs before trying to go back to sleep.
“Can we eat it in your room, Daddy?”
I paused with a spoonful of sprinkles hovering over the bowl, a comically scandalized look on my face. “Ice cream? In bed ?”
She nodded, her little face glowing with hope.
“Well, I suppose I could make that happen. If you insist.”
“I in-sits!” she shot back, slapping a little hand on the counter.
“Done,” I said, palming the bowls in one hand and sweeping her off the counter with the other.
Harper stole a spoon from the bowl and licked it as I carried her up the back stairs to my room. My bedroom was one of my favorite spots in the house, and now it seemed it was Harper’s as well, despite the fact that hers was a sparkly pink dream.
She hadn’t slept in it since the kidnapping.
I nudged open my bedroom door with my elbow and was greeted by the lights turned low, just the way I liked them. After the music and energy of my clubs, I appreciated the Zen-like tranquility of the space. There were few decorations, just a series of simple Japanese prints, a potted tree, and windows everywhere. I’d had my bed specially made, low enough that I could trip into it at the end of a long day and wide enough that I could fit a few friends if I wanted. Tonight, it was the perfect spot for an ice cream party.
I settled next to Harper.
“Aunt Jessie said you were busy at work,” Harper informed me around a mouthful of ice cream.
“I guess I was.”
Katie’s face flashed through my mind, and damnit, I wasn’t going to think about her anymore . But now that Harper was calm and tucked safely against me, I was starting to remember details I hadn’t processed at the time. Like the shocked look on Katie’s face when I’d thrown her out.
I felt a flash of regret, but maybe it was for the best. I didn’t have anything more to offer than what I’d given her tonight.
Even if there’d been a moment there, when she’d been naked in my arms, her pretty eyes blinking down at me from behind those ridiculous glasses while she gave me hell about owning Bloom…
I couldn’t figure Katie out. And it was almost enough to make me second-guess policy against two-night stands. A heat came over me, remembering how we’d connected. I’d had more random hookups than I could count, but there was something about Katie that felt different.
“I was busy with Aunt Jessie too,” Harper said, bringing me back to the moment. “We went swimming, then we colored, then we tried to catch birds.”
“You what ?” My sister was always coming up with insane childcare ideas.
“Yup, we got a box and tied a string on it and put it up on a stick and then put some bread underneath it. Then we hid behind a tree and waited.”
“And did you catch anything?”
She shook her head, her platinum curls swinging. “Nuh uh, but we almost did!”
“Maybe next time,” I said, polishing off my too-small bowl.
“That’s what Aunt Jessie said!”
“She’s a smart lady.” In some things, anyway. Less so in others. “So…can you tell me what happened tonight? Why you got upset?”
Harper pushed her bowl away and leaned against my arm. “I had a bad dream,” she whispered.
Even getting her to say that much was progress. I knew to tread carefully. “What was it about?”
She went silent for a few minutes, and I waited her out, stroking her arm.
“I dreamed I was back in the little room and she wouldn’t let me come home.” Harper’s voice was thin.
Of course. There was no doubt who the monster was plaguing my daughter’s dreams. Emily Duncan, the nanny I’d hired to watch Harper, had turned out to be a desperate opportunist who’d looked at my daughter as her meal ticket out of crippling gambling debt. She’d passed our background checks, but not long after I’d hired her, her addiction had spiraled out of control. Emily’s kidnap and ransom plan was never going to be successful, but she’d been wily enough to steal Harper away to a cheap motel in Fort Lauderdale for three harrowing days. I still had flashbacks to the terrifying time, so I could only imagine the scars Harper carried from it.
They manifested in night terrors, panic attacks, and an unwillingness to set foot off the property. She felt safe behind the walls, with people she knew and trusted nearby. But part of the problem was that she’d trusted Emily, and now Harper didn’t know how to function around new people. On Monday, the therapist I’d hired would start. I could only hope she would be able to make progress, because I hated seeing my once outgoing child stunted by fear.
“Honey, I’m sure that dream was scary, but you know that’s all in the past, right?” I leaned over and kissed the top of her baby shampoo-scented hair. My heart seized at the thought of something happening to her. “You’re safe. I promise.”
“But…what if she comes back?” Harper looked up at me with wide eyes. “What if she tricks Miguel and Vida, and gets into the house, and takes me?” Her breathing got faster, and I worried that another breakdown was coming on.
“Shh, shh,” I said pulling her onto my lap. “That’s not going to happen. Emily can’t get to you now.”
“But what if her mom comes and takes me?” Harper wrapped her arms around me and hugged tight, like she was afraid I was going to disappear.
My daughter had a curious understanding of parental relationships, mostly based on what she’d picked up from storybooks and TV shows. Her own mother, Nicole—a short-term fling who unexpectedly ended up pregnant—had given up her rights to her. Nicole’s parents had made an effort to be a part of their granddaughter’s life, but Nicole herself had kept her distance. Harper was close to my mom, but the fact that she didn’t have a mother of her own left her a little confused about what mothers meant and what they could and would do for their children.
“Not going to happen, I promise, promise, promise.” The triple promise had become my mantra, and it usually worked. “I’ll always keep you safe.”
Except the one time I hadn’t. There had been no way for me to predict what Emily was going to do, but I still carried the guilt of what had happened to my daughter. What I hadn’t been able to prevent.
“Okay, Daddy,” Harper replied, her voice softer and thick with fatigue.
I didn’t move, hoping she was finally settling into sleep. My bed had become our bed, so once her breathing evened out I pulled back the sheet and tucked her in. It was late, or early, and I was exhausted too. I gingerly scooted down and placed my head on the pillow next to her, still in my dress shirt and pants, and finally drifted off to a mercifully dreamless sleep.
At least until a dreamed about a gorgeous, challenging brunette who smiled up at me over the top of her glasses and told me she wasn’t done with me yet.