20. Harper
Harper
Dawson left early this morning for a run around the compound, and I haven’t seen him since.
After last night, things have been strange between us.
Last night he didn’t hold me close to him as we fell asleep.
We lay with our backs turned to each other as we eventually fell asleep.
It felt weird. He was distant and lost in his own mind about whatever was bothering him.
All of that last night, and I still have no idea what we’re doing here. Who is Xander, and what business does he have with Dawson?
A part of me thinks I don’t want the answer to those questions. Nobody can make as much money as Xander has with truly above-board work. I have a pretty vivid imagination, and I’ve painted a clear picture in my mind of what exactly it is Xander does for a living.
I try to force the thoughts out of my head and focus on work. Dawson brought me here for a work meeting, so I’m assuming everything is supposed to be business as usual. I have no idea how long we’re staying, so that makes a large part of the work I do difficult.
I’m tempted to log back into Dawson’s email, too.
He had me log out on the plane, and that’s because he was hiding something.
I want to find out whatever that is. I convince myself it’s not worth the punishment, knowing that Dawson is going to be absolutely pissed about it if he finds out.
He’ll probably get some sort of notification that I’ve logged into his account and come running back here to make me pay for it.
Instead, I settle on doing work I can do without him.
I go through my own email and filter out the spam and all of the cold-call emails about doing business with Dawson.
As per usual, there are plenty of people who have tried to get in contact with him who have somehow found my information in the hopes I’ll reach out personally.
All of those emails go in the trash too.
Dawson’s schedule is in disarray after this impromptu trip. I go through every meeting and figure out what exactly it was supposed to be about and come up with a plan to reschedule them all. Dawson took care of some of the details yesterday, but he left the majority of the labor to me.
I carefully go through and craft kind, apologetic emails to all of the clients he decided to bail on and email those to Dawson for his approval. The sooner we get those rescheduled, the better.
My phone rings, and I pick it up without looking at the caller, naturally assuming it’s Dawson.
With the exception of the occasional call from another employee at work, Dawson is the only one who calls me.
God forbid my mom called to check in to see how I’m doing with this indentured servitude she willingly signed me up for.
“Hello?” I answer in a cheery, professional voice that I know Dawson likes.
“Is this Harper?” An unfamiliar voices says. I sit upright and raise my eyebrows, not quite able to place where I know this voice from. “This is Malik. Do you remember me?”
My heart beats faster, not from my desire to sit here and talk to him, mind you. How the hell did he get this number? What is he calling me for?
“Oh, hi Malik! Of course I remember who you are.” I do my best to sound professional and charming, and I’m aware that it might come across as a little flirty. This is how Dawson trained me to act around his clients.
I’m immediately reminded of the night at the club where Dawson thought I was flirting with Malik, and how he lashed out at me in the limo after. It’s a good thing he’s not here to see this now, because he might react harshly again.
“Dawson is actually out at the moment, but I can give him a message to let him know you called,” I continue.
I tap my finger nervously on the desk, hoping that’s all he wants.
He did send me that bouquet of flowers, and I don’t know what I did to give him any signal that I wanted him to send me flowers, but I need to nip that in the bud quickly.
“Actually, you’re just the person I was hoping to talk to,” Malik says with a light laugh that makes my skin crawl. “I was calling to check in because you missed your appointment.”
“My appointment?” I echo like some kind of parrot. I have no idea what he’s talking about. I don’t have any appointments that I know about, and even if I needed an appointment, I wouldn’t have time in my schedule to pencil anything in.
I realize it must be some kind of meeting with Dawson.
He ran us both out of town so quickly that a lot of meetings slipped through the cracks, and Malik must have been a casualty of that.
At least, that’s what makes sense to me.
What business would he possibly have with me that I would miss a meeting with him?
“Dawson had some last-minute business out of town, and we had to fly away,” I explain, hoping I can soothe the situation in some way. “Just let me know when you’re next available, and I can schedule you in. I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of since this was such an inconvenience.”
“Trust me, I know that you will,” Malik says with another laugh that makes my skin crawl. “What have you been working on with your art?”
I’m a little taken aback by the question. It’s relatively harmless, but I don’t recall ever telling him anything about my skills. He never asked me about my interests or what I wanted to do when I went to school. The only thing Malik asked me about was boyfriends.
“I hardly have time to work on anything right now,” I say with a dismissive laugh, looking around the room nervously.
I need to get off the phone with Malik because the moment Dawson walks in and sees me talking to him, he’s going to flip out.
He’s already been gone long enough, he’s due back any minute now.
“But I mostly just draw creatures from folklore and the occasional portraits. It’s nothing too fancy. ”
“Don’t sell yourself short. I know you’re very talented,” Malik says with a confidence that makes me think this isn’t just the thing you say to someone trying to be bashful. “You have a lot of skill that most people train for decades for and can’t master.”
“I didn’t realize you’d seen any of my work.
” My throat goes dry, and it feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room.
How the hell has he seen my drawings? I know Henry and my mom are friends with him, but I don’t have any drawings just lying around where they could show him.
All of my drawings are in my personal sketch pad.
“Oh yes, I think it’s very admirable how you are planning to go to art school to better yourself too,” Malik continues.
Yet another thing I haven’t told him, though this is a logical assumption given that he knows about my art.
“But an art school out of state is going to be a big change, yes? When was the last time you left California?”
The blood in my veins turns to ice, and my brain seems to freeze while simultaneously running a thousand miles a minute. How does he know where I want to go to school? How does he know that I’ve barely left California all my life?
Somehow, Malik seems to know a lot of intimate details about my life, and I know virtually nothing about him. From everything Dawson has said about him, I think I know better than to ask. But that doesn’t make this any less unsettling.
What makes it all the more nerve-racking is the fact that he seems to actually care. I’m not used to people taking an interest in me. Nobody ever has, at least not before I met Dawson. But now here’s Malik, some strange old man I met one time, who seems to know more about me than he should.
It’s unnerving, and it makes my stomach twist so much, I feel like I could vomit on the spot. I don’t know what’s going on, and I have a sinking suspicion that says it’s something to do with why Dawson wanted to leave as quickly as he did. But what do I have to prove that?
“When will you be back?” Malik asks after a moment when I don’t respond. Any sane person would hear that I’m uncomfortable and try to end the conversation, but I don’t think Malik cares.
“I’m not entirely sure. As I said, this meeting was very last minute, and Dawson is busy at the moment, so I can’t ask him.” I bite the inside of my cheek to try to focus on anything other than the discomfort I feel. I don’t want him to know that he’s causing this reaction.
“How about you ask him when you see him so we can make plans. When you’re back, you’re going to dinner with me,” Malik says. It’s not lost on me that he didn’t ask if I wanted to go to dinner with him. He only told me that I am.
Once again, I hesitate to respond. This is a sticky situation to be in. I distinctly remember Dawson mentioning the he’s not the kind of man you say no to. He refused to elaborate further, and my imagination is good enough to figure out what that means.
My instinct is to say hell no and hang up the phone. Sitting across from a man like him at dinner, knowing he’ll have the same look in his eyes that he did at the nightclub, the same look that Richard had when he was trying to feel me up, makes the bile rise in my throat.
But as much as I want to say no, would that impact his business relationship with Dawson? With Richard, he practically sold me out to him for the promise of their business relationship. Maybe it’s the same with Malik?
But at the same time, Dawson did rescue me from the dinner with Richard before things could escalate.
Maybe that’s because he doesn’t actually want me to do things like this.
I think about all the times Dawson has told me that I’m his, and no man is allowed to touch me, and I can’t help but think that applies here.
Dawson wouldn’t want me to degrade myself by humoring a dinner with someone like Malik just for his own business arrangements.
“Thank you so much for the offer, but I have to work,” I say, forcing a friendly and charming voice to soften the blow. Malik isn’t the kind of man you say no to, so when I say it, I want to make it as sugary sweet as possible. How could he possibly hate something like that?
“I never gave you a date.” The friendliness in his voice disappears, and my nerves are on edge. He obviously knows that I’m lying and just trying to get out of this. Can he really blame me?
“Sorry, just thought I always work at night,” I quickly say, laughing to soothe the situation. Malik is not amused.
“Tell your boss he needs to loosen your leash,” Malik says with annoyance clear in his voice. It’s tight, like he’s on edge and about to snap any moment. All this because I said no to him.
I’m relieved to be far away from him because I don’t know what he would do if this were at the nightclub. I can almost envision his eyes darkening as he watches me, how the amused, friendly demeanor shifts when he’s rejected.
My heart beats rapidly against my chest, and I feel my anxiety starting to take hold.
I might have messed up big time. I shouldn’t have even answered this call.
Now, I might have done irreparable damage to Dawson and Malik’s relationship, and that’s not even mentioning that this could very well be putting me in some kind of danger.
“I’m sorry,” I say as if it’s an impulse I can’t help. “It’s just that I’m new at this job, and I’m still training, so it’s hard to step away.”
I hear Malik scoff on the other end. I bite my tongue to keep from saying anything else. Lord knows, I’ve already dug my own grave deep enough. I should quit while I’m ahead.
“You know what,” Malik says, his voice still thick with frustration. He clears his throat and lets out a long breath before continuing. This time, his voice is back to what it was before. I never would have known he was angry. “There is no rush. You and I will get together when the time is right.”
Without saying another word, he hangs up the phone. I’m left sitting here in the room dumbfounded about what just happened.
Moments after the call ends, the door opens, and I jump in the seat to turn around and see Dawson standing in my doorway covered in sweat.
He takes his shirt off quickly and tosses it in the hamper, approaching me with a curious look in his eyes.
He must be able to see the look in my eyes because he takes a step closer and focuses on me.
“What’s going on?” Dawson asks, breathless from his jog.
In a split second, I choose not to tell him.
I remember exactly how he acted when he saw the flowers from Malik.
I don’t want a repeat of that right now.
Dawson told me that I’m his problem right now.
That he’s obsessed with me, and I’ve seen him act on that before.
I don’t want him getting into any trouble with Malik.
I can handle this on my own.
“Nothing. You just startled me,” I lie, turning back to my laptop and focusing on work while he showers.