Twelve – Eliza
TWELVE
ELIZA
T he cologne Harrison’s wearing is different from what he wore in Tennessee, and it’s beyond intoxicating.
It’s spicy and woodsy, the kind that makes you want to lean into his chest and inhale it for hours while he runs his fingers through your hair.
Well— if someone were attracted to him, that is.
They’d think that.
Not me.
He pulls into a reserved parking space with his name on the placard. Glancing to the left, I realize the entire row is filled with luxury cars—and every spot bears his name.
“Do you really make this much money training women to be Stepford-wife-adjacent?”
“You’re technically my first client in that department,” he says, putting the car in park. “And no. Most of my money comes from a business I run.”
“What business? Stocks? Something you started yourself?”
“Well, look at that.” He turns to face me, a cocky grin tugging at his lips. “You do know how to hold a civil conversation. I’m impressed.”
He steps out without answering the question, and before I can open my door, he’s already there—pulling it open for me.
“I’m not allowed to open my own door now?”
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t when you’re with me,” he says simply. “It’s a manners thing.”
“Oh…”
“Yes.” That grin again. “ Oh. ”
“Welcome back, Mr. Jones.” A security guard approaches with a cart. “Do you have any luggage you’d like me to take upstairs?”
“Yes, Harold. Thank you.” He pops the trunk, then gestures toward me. “This is Eliza Hart. She’s the sister of a very good friend of mine, and she’ll be staying with me for a while.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Harold says with a polite tip of his hat, already shifting focus to our bags.
Harrison motions for me to follow him to the elevator. As soon as the doors slide shut, he stares at me.
He looks like he’s about to say something sharp—another snide remark about something I’ve done wrong. But no words come.
The elevator reaches the top floor in silence, and the doors glide open.
He gestures for me to step out first, and I nearly gasp when I do.
An immaculate hallway stretches out in front of me, all creamy marble and soft lighting.
At the end of the corridor, Harrison unlocks a sleek black glass door and lets me step inside first.
New York’s glittering skyline greets me through floor-to-ceiling windows. I can’t help but wander toward them, drawn like a moth.
“Who the hell is this bitch?”
The voice—shrill, unapologetic—yanks me back to reality.
Assuming it’s the ex I overheard earlier, I turn around, ready to respond.
But the words die in my throat.
She looks like she stepped out of a red carpet event.
Perfect white dress. Glittering red heels. Not a single strand of her straightened blonde hair out of place.
Her lips are slicked in a glossy rose that somehow makes her diamond earrings look even brighter.
“Seriously, Harrison?” she scoffs, arms crossed. “You left me for… that ?”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” The words fly from my mouth as I step closer. “You could’ve at least said hello first. Even I know that. And maybe if you had, you’d know I’m not his new girlfriend—and he didn’t leave you for me. But he did leave you, clearly for a good reason.”
Her jaw drops.
Harrison clears his throat. “Please leave my condo, Kristin. I didn’t invite you, and Eliza has a point. I left you for a reason—a very good one.”
“Okay, fine. Sorry.” She holds up her hands in mock surrender. “I assumed things. But I really do need to talk to you about us. Please.”
“No.” His hand stays firm on the door. “Just leave.”
She doesn’t budge.
“Don’t make me ask again, Kristin.” His tone sharpens, ice cold.
“You haven’t asked me anything.” Her voice is colder. “You’ll listen to me, and then I’ll consider leaving…”
“Okay.” He pulls his phone from his pocket, tapping the screen. “You have five seconds before I call security.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
The look on his face says otherwise.
“Well, then.” She slings a designer bag over her shoulder and brushes past him. “We will talk, whether you like it or not. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Please don’t.”
The door slams shut behind her.
Then, as if she never existed, Harrison strolls toward the room across from mine.
“Give me five minutes to make a call,” he says. “Then I’ll give you a tour.”
“Oh my god…” I bite back a gasp as Harrison shows me into a bathroom that’s five times the size of my bedroom back home.
A massive shower anchors the center, with a tub big enough to seat five.
The tile sparkles beneath shimmering chandeliers.
“This one’s mine,” he says with a smile. “But you can use it when I’m here.”
“I’d never shower in front of you.”
“You’d have to go through my office to get in here, and I keep it locked,” he replies. “That’s why. I wouldn’t watch without an invitation.”
“You won’t get one.”
He laughs and leads me down a hallway lined with bookshelves.
He flips a light switch, revealing a bedroom with another breathtaking view of the city.
A California king bed draped in soft gray sheets. White pillows.
Another bathroom—less flashy, but still nicer than anything I’ve ever had.
“Whenever you need to sleep…” He grabs a remote and the drapes glide down slowly.
“My housekeeper comes on Sundays and Thursdays to handle laundry and bedding,” he adds. “But if you want privacy, there’s a Do Not Disturb hanger on the back of your door.”
“Noted.”
He shows me the kitchen, the parlor rooms—each one more stunning than the last.
And yet, there’s not a single family photo anywhere.
The place is beautiful, but cold.
When we return to the living room, Harold is setting our luggage neatly by the wall and handing Harrison a gray Versace bag.
“They said they brought this over a day early because you’re their favorite customer,” he says.
“Goodnight.” He gives me a warm smile. “See you two tomorrow.”
Harrison pulls a box from the bag and hands it to me.
“You’re welcome,” he says, flipping the lid off to reveal a pair of sparkling pink stilettos.
“After you settle in, show me how you’d walk in those.”
“Why not now?”
“Because I need to break up how much time I spend with you in a day.”
“You’re just as rude as your ex,” I say. “Maybe you should’ve stayed together.”
“My ex didn’t make me feel the need to take a cold shower every fifteen minutes.” His gaze sweeps over me. “See you later.”