Chapter 24 Nate
NATE
The night of Renee’s accident had been, without a doubt, the worst of my life.
When I think back on it, all I see is a blur of guilt so strong it knocked the breath from my lungs.
I spent months after her return to Florida going over it and over it in my mind.
What I should have done differently. How I had failed her.
It was a terrible time that I only managed to get through by strictly partitioning the different parts of my life. I cut myself off from love and true connection as a way to survive.
Then Harper came along to tear down those carefully constructed walls and now here I am, living through another blur of guilt and pain.
But it’s so much worse than it was last time.
Because, unlike with my ex-fiancee, I let Harper into every part of my life.
We connected on every level—in the bedroom, at the club, in conversation, over our work.
Now she remains in all of those corners of my mind and heart, a painful shadow that I can’t shake.
I think about her constantly, no matter what I’m doing.
And the really sick thing about it? I want her there, in my thoughts and my memories.
As painful as it is, I need to think about her, to remember what we had.
I only want to be in places where I felt close to her, and since the club is totally out, I hole up in my house, where her ghost seems to flit through every room she’d ever been in.
I call in sick to work. I drink an excessive amount of whiskey. And I think about Harper.
I have no idea what day it is when I receive the phone call.
Wednesday? Tuesday maybe? Time doesn’t seem all that important to keep track of anymore, the days and nights bleeding into each other as I miss her.
I’ve been ignoring most contact with the outside world, but when I see the name on my phone screen, I jump up, immediately alert.
“Emma?”
There’s no response for a moment, and I wonder if she’s surprised I knew it was her. Though I had never called her, I’d programmed her number into my phone as soon as Harper and I became something real, just in case I needed to get a hold of her. “Emma?” I ask again. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” she says, her voice flat, and my stomach drops.
Please, God, don’t let anything have happened to Harper.
“Tell me,” I somehow manage to say, even as my mouth goes painfully dry.
“Harper went out tonight. She left a note. I think…I think she went to that club.”
It takes a minute for the words to sink in.
Fuck.
“When did she leave?” I ask, already standing.
“I have no idea.” Emma sounds upset. “I’ve been at work since four. She’s been totally wrecked, Nate, I really don’t think it’s good for her to be there right now.”
I push away the stab of guilt at the characterization of Harper as wrecked. Emma is absolutely right—the club is not where she should be in that frame of mind. There are people there who would be all too happy to take advantage of someone who is hurting and vulnerable.
“I would have gone after her myself,” Emma continues, “but I don’t have a pass or—”
“You did the right thing, calling me,” I assure her, searching for my keys. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t fucking do it for you,” she snaps. “You destroyed my best friend, you asshole. And if something happens to her tonight because of you—”
“Nothing is going to happen.” I swallow hard. You destroyed my best friend. That can’t be true. Harper cannot be destroyed. I won’t allow it. “I’ll take care of it.”
“You better,” Emma snaps, and then the line goes dead.
It’s not until I reach the door, keys in hand, that I realize I’ve had far too much to drink tonight to get behind the wheel. “Fuck.” I don’t have time for this. I open a ride-share app on my phone and call for a car, relieved to see there’s one a mile away. While I wait on the curb, I dial Philip.
“Tell me you’re at the club right now,” I bark the moment he answers.
“Do I typically answer my phone when at the club?” he asks in that calm, velvet voice of his.
I ignore the question. “Can you get there?”
“What’s wrong?” he asks, immediately on guard.
“Harper is there and…I can’t explain this all right now. But she shouldn’t be there, and definitely not by herself.”
“Why aren’t you with her?”
Because I fucking left her all alone, I think bitterly. Because I’m a selfish asshole who can’t seem to stop hurting her.
“It doesn’t matter,” I tell him. “I’m about to get into an Uber but it will take me at least fifteen minutes to get there.” Probably twenty in traffic, but I can’t let myself think in worst case scenarios.
“I’m probably at least that far myself,” he says.
“God damn it.”
“But,” he continues, and I can hear street sounds in the background. He must have left wherever he was. “I can head over anyway, just in case.”
“Thank you.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “You want to tell me what in the hell is going on?”
Right then a blue compact car pulls up to the curb. My ride. “Not right now,” I tell him, swinging open the door. “Just try to get there fast. And keep her safe.”
“That goes without saying.”
It’s the longest damn ride of my life. I keep trying to tell myself that there are safety measures in place at the club. Within those walls, nothing is considered more important than consent. I’m not really worried about someone forcing Harper to do something against her will.
What I am concerned with is what Harper will do when she feels desperate. I think about her that day in the library supply closet, the memory of her body making my chest ache. She’d been so upset, totally on edge, looking for an escape.
Who might she find that escape with if I’m not there to protect her?
“Can you go any faster?” I ask the driver.
“Can’t make the traffic disappear,” he says cheerfully, as if this whole night isn’t a huge fucking disaster waiting to happen. As if I’m not sitting back here seconds away from losing my shit.
It feels like an hour before he pulls up outside the brick building. “What is this place?” he asks, curious as he peers up at the imposing facade.
“You don’t even want to know,” I mutter, climbing from the car. I glance at my phone as I head to the heavy door. Nothing from Philip. He’s not here yet.
“Hello, Mr. Chase,” Mercedes at the front desk welcomes me. “How are you to—”
“Did Harper Cain come in?” I bark. She blinks at me. No one is rude to Mercedes. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my tone. “She would have been on a permanent guest pass.”
“Yes,” Mercedes says, sounding worried. “She came in about forty-five minutes ago. Is there a problem?”
“I sure as fuck hope not,” I say, pushing into the lounge as I try not to think about how much trouble she could have gotten into in forty-five minutes.
The first person I see inside the club is Andres, and I thank the Lord for small favors. “I need you to help me locate a guest.” I tell him. “Harper Cain. About five four, blonde—”
He cuts me off. “I know exactly where she is.”
I hold my breath, suddenly terrified he’s about to tell me she went into the back on her own. Instead he turns to the bar and I let out a slow breath. She’s there.
In spite of the panic of the last half hour, the sight of her sends a rush of warmth through my chest. Harper.
My Harper.
She’s dressed similar to the way she’d been that first night, a simple black dress. Tonight, her hair is up, showing off her long, graceful neck.
Her long graceful neck that’s currently being touched by the blunt fingers of the man sitting next to her.
My fear goes out of me in an instant, replaced by red fury. Aden Roth. The same asshole who had tried to pick her up the night she’d first come here without me.
“Thanks,” I mutter to Andres, already striding across the floor, my hands shaking so badly I have to ball them into fists.
Harper looks up while I’m still several paces away, her eyes locking directly on mine, as if she somehow sensed my approach. I falter midstep. How had I forgotten how beautiful she is?
Beautiful is an understatement. She’s absolutely fucking stunning. So damn gorgeous it steals my breath.
She’s also terribly sad. I can see it even from here, and my heart twists at the sight of her. Her face is pale, eyes huge and dark, faint purple smudges beneath them. I think she might have lost weight. There’s something vulnerable and fragile to her that I’ve never seen before.
You did that.
Before I can say a word, she turns her back on me, and just like that my anger returns.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She keeps her attention firmly on the bar. “I’m enjoying a drink.”
The sound of her voice sends a fresh stab of pain through me. “You shouldn’t be here alone.”
“She’s not alone, Chase,” Roth says, and it’s everything I can do not to punch him right here.
“Stay out of this,” I snap.
The motherfucker laughs. “Funny, I still don’t see a collar on her throat. So maybe you’re the one who should stay out of it.”
“Harper,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. “Come with me.”
She still won’t look at me, but her answer is clear and precise. “No.”
I lean in towards her, ignoring Aden. “What’s your plan, exactly?” I ask. “Why did you come here?”
She finally looks up at me. The pain and the anger in her eyes sends my stomach tumbling to the ground. “I guess I was hoping for a distraction.”
I’m so caught up in looking at her that it takes a minute for the words to sink in. “What the fuck does that mean?”
She shrugs. “What kind of distraction does this place usually provide?”
I have never in my life wanted to throw a woman over my shoulder more than I do right now. “So, what are you saying?” I ask, getting even closer, unable to keep the venom from my voice. “You’re going to find a new dom tonight?”