Chapter 23
23
HARPER
I blink awake slowly, awareness trickling in with comforting warmth. Brody’s arms are still wrapped around me. I let my eyes drift shut again, savoring the feeling of him—solid, safe, mine.
I breathe him in, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin—woodsy and clean, mingled with something that’s uniquely him. Carefully, I lift my head, leaning back just enough to study his peaceful face. Even in sleep, he has a strength etched in his chiseled jaw and the curve of his perfect lips. And in this quiet moment, there’s something rare he rarely lets anyone see.
I lift my fingertips to his face, tracing featherlight lines along his jawline. I take my time memorizing each rugged contour, enjoying the vulnerability in his neutral expression. My thumb grazes across his lower lip, and my pulse quickens as heat stirs within me, settling low in my belly.
My fingers move downward, tracing along his bare shoulder, feeling the muscles flex beneath my touch. Desire mixes with need, and I can’t help myself.
His eyelids flutter open slowly; blue eyes meet mine. He blinks, and his gaze slowly focuses on me.
“Morning again,” he whispers, voice gravelly, and it sends a delicious shiver down my spine.
“Morning again,” I reply, grinning, my heart skipping as he continues watching me with intensity. “We fell back asleep.”
“It’s good to catch up on rest,” he tells me as his hand moves to my waist, brushing over my naked skin beneath the sheets.
His gaze holds mine, and it’s filled with the same need that pumps through my veins. I lean in, capturing his lips.
Brody responds with a groan, pulling me closer, deepening our kiss with unhurried ease. His mouth is warm, his fingers wrap possessively around my hip, and I shift him onto his back, taking control as I remove his boxers.
“Harp,” he says, his voice rough, vulnerable.
The sound makes my heart race as desire tightens in my core.
“I want you,” I whisper against his throat, pressing kisses down his neck, feeling his pulse quicken beneath my lips. “Right now.”
He carefully lays me down on my back and slides his strong body between my legs. Our eyes lock as he exhales, waiting outside of my entrance. I’m so fucking wet and needy for him that the anticipation alone is too much for me to bear.
He grips my hip as he slowly guides himself into me. My breath hitches, pleasure rippling through me as our bodies slowly join. He goes slow, giving me time to adjust to him as he stretches me wide. His hands move to my waist.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
He gives me another inch and then another. My breathing grows ragged, and I feel as if he’ll rip me in two. I nod, and he moves until our ends completely meet, until we’re fully connected.
His eyes lock on to mine, heavy-lidded, blazing with unguarded emotion. “God, Harp,” he rasps, his voice a deep, hoarse whisper. “This is everything.”
My heart soars, body trembling as he slowly and carefully thrusts in and out. I gasp; the sensation almost overwhelms me as the intensity builds between us. He finds a slow, perfect rhythm; our bodies move effortlessly, instinctively.
Our breaths mingle, eyes locked. Every movement is filled with trust. Moans escape me as pleasure winds tighter, stronger, drawing us closer to release. I grip his shoulders, surrendering to this man who holds my heart in his hands.
“Brody,” I gasp as the orgasm rushes through me in powerful, electric pulses.
His eyes darken, and he groans, his grip tight as he finds his own release. My name tumbles from his lips. “My Harp.”
Breathless and trembling, he kisses me so damn sweetly, pouring every emotion into me as he hovers above me. He presses a kiss against my forehead, breathing into my hair. “You make me feel alive.”
Joy and warmth flood my chest.
“Same,” I whisper, smiling against him. “I could get used to this.”
His arms tighten around me, holding me even closer. “Good,” he says. “Because I don’t ever want to wake up without you again.”
I lift my head, eyes meeting his, feeling the sincerity and depth of emotion behind his words. I feel the same.
Brody and I slide out of bed and take a quick shower together.
After we get dressed, I walk into the kitchen and see there’s a pot of freshly brewed coffee. He must’ve made it when he woke up earlier.
Brody snatches two mugs from the cabinet and fills them full.
“It’s still hot,” he says, handing me one of the steaming mugs. “Best part of waking up is …” A teasing smile tugs at his lips. “You.”
I blush as I take a sip. “Us,” I correct.
He moves closer and I lean into him, enjoying slow mornings where we can just be. It’s peaceful, and this time with him is something I’ll cherish for the rest of my life.
Brody’s phone vibrates on the counter, and I see Asher’s name pop up on his screen. I glance up at him, and tension settles in his shoulders.
I know that look, and I know something’s wrong.
“What’s going on?” I ask, remembering he slipped out of bed to answer his phone this morning.
He sighs and reaches for his phone. “Someone snapped a picture of us kissing in town. Micah’s on a rampage and is playing the wounded fiancé card.”
Seconds later, he’s showing me the proof. The photo takes my breath away—the two of us kissing passionately beneath the umbrella in the rain. It’s sexy, and it makes me smile, but that fades quickly when I read the comments. I’m being called a cheater, a liar, a skank, and a whore, among many other things. My hand shakes because Micah isn’t just coming for me; he’s determined to destroy my reputation. Some people defend me, and my heart aches with gratitude, but this isn’t enough.
“What the fuck?” I whisper. “Why are they saying that’s my engagement ring?” I hold up my hand, clearly showing that the infinity ring is on my right hand. It was my mother’s, a good-luck charm. Micha’s ridiculous ring is Brody’s bedroom, sitting in the bottom of the drawer next to the bed.
“They’ll spin the narrative however they can. You know how this goes.”
My pulse spikes, and I feel like I might have an anxiety attack.
“Hey,” he says quietly, his voice careful and controlled. “We’ll figure this out.” He pauses, jaw tightening even more, frustration flickering behind his blue eyes.
“There’s something else,” he says. “There are rumors about the baby being mine.”
I blink, caught completely off guard by a sudden, vivid image that flashes through my mind—my belly rounded, Brody’s hand resting over it, pride glowing in his eyes. A surprising warmth spreads through me, unexpected but undeniably comforting. The thought doesn’t bring an existential dread.
I quickly shake away the thought, cheeks heating. “The baby rumors piss me off the most.”
“I understand,” Brody says, watching me carefully. “The bigger the drama, the more the gossip columns are encouraged to talk about it. I’m really fucking sorry.”
I nod slowly, trying to process this new complication. Strangely though, the sting of Micah’s lies feels distant now, overshadowed by that beautiful vision still lingering in my mind. Carrying Brody’s child doesn’t seem frightening; in fact, the thought fills me with a quiet sense of rightness.
He notices my expression change and tilts his head at me. “What is it?”
A small smile tugs at my lips despite the chaos. “A baby with you doesn’t feel like a nightmare.”
His expression softens, surprise flickering in his eyes before warmth floods his gaze. He steps closer, tucking hair behind my ear. “Maybe one day. When you’re ready—because I know you’re not.”
“Thank you,” I say, the genuine sincerity in his words melting something inside me, replacing all my fears. I lean into his touch. “I just hate that they’re turning this —us—into something ugly.”
Brody shakes his head. “It’s about perspective though, isn’t it?” He glances down at the picture of us kissing. “I think that’s very fucking beautiful.”
“You’re right,” I tell him. “And I’m supposed to be the one who finds the bright side.”
He smirks. “I’m a changed man.”
A chuckle escapes me. “That’s what we call the power of the pussy.”
Instead of being upset, we laugh together, and he pulls me into him.
We dance barefoot in the kitchen, and I tilt my head up to meet his gaze.
“Tell me something real,” I say as he spins me around.
“I can’t imagine a future without you in it,” he says.
“Neither can I,” I admit as my breath catches.
Brody leans down and captures my mouth, and he tastes like mint and coffee.
“We’ll make it through this. After storm clouds come flowers and rainbows.”
I smile. “It’s the only thing that keeps me hanging on.”
After we eat brunch, the day stretches out in front of us. It’s easy, and it offers a sense of calm despite the shitshow that waits for me outside of this cabin.
Brody suggests we spend the afternoon relaxing, away from screens and messages and the relentless gossip columns. I couldn’t agree more.
Eventually, I wander toward the built-in bookshelves lining the far wall of the living room. Fingertips brush over the worn spines of books that have been read several times. The shelves are filled with thriller novels, old notebooks, and magazines. My attention catches on a thick, leather-bound photo album, tucked neatly among it all.
“What’s this?” I glance at it.
Brody’s eyes look at the album, and a faint smile tugs at his lips. He stands from the couch and walks toward me. “Family photos.”
I look up at him. “May I look?”
He nods, sitting beside me as I settle on the couch, the leather cool beneath my fingers. His thigh presses against mine, and it’s comforting. I lift the cover, revealing pages filled with memories of smiling faces, holidays, birthday parties, and everyday moments, made precious with the passing of time.
I study each picture, careful not to rush, allowing Brody space to process whatever feelings surface. He remains silent at first, his breathing steady beside me, but I can feel him tense.
“That’s my mom and dad,” he finally says, pointing to a candid picture of a laughing couple, eyes bright and carefree. “They were high school sweethearts. Together forever, right up until the very end.”
I glance at him, noticing his faint smile, tinged with sadness.
“They look really happy.”
“They were.” His voice grows gentle. “They had the kind of love we always hear about, but never think is real.”
“My parents were the same way,” I admit. “It bothered me for a long time and made me think there was something wrong with me because I’d never be able to live up to what my parents had.”
I give him a small smile, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “Then Zane fell in love, and I realized I wasn’t doomed after all.”
This makes Brody laugh because my brother is a known hard-ass. “You’re not doomed, Harp.”
“You’re not either,” I tell him.
Brody leans back slightly, eyes distant. I carefully turn the page, coming across a picture of a young Brody, his smile wide and carefree, holding up a fish by the pond. I enjoy the innocent joy on his face and know that the young boy had no idea what was in store for him.
“You were really cute.”
He chuckles. “ Were ? I’d challenge that.”
“True.” I grin, nudging him with my shoulder. “Now you’re a wet dream.”
He rolls his eyes but laughs. “We used to come up here as a family. Fishing trips, hikes, Fourth of July. This cabin was our safe haven. My mom didn’t come from money like my dad did. This place was part of her inheritance, and she refused to get rid of it. Dad wanted to build something big on the property, a huge mansion that overlooked the town, but Mom said no. Humbled him.”
“Typical Calloway,” I say with a gentle laugh. I reach out, covering his hand with mine. “I love it here. The simplicity of it is something I’ll cherish.”
“I love you being here.” His eyes meet mine, and they’re full of warmth and gratitude.
“Thank you for sharing this with me,” I offer.
Brody draws in a deep breath, leaning closer and pressing a kiss against my temple. “There’s no one else I’d rather share this with.”
The album rests open across our laps, each photograph becoming a bridge between us, connecting his past, grounding us to the present, and illuminating the fragile hope that maybe—despite all the darkness we’ve faced—our future might hold the kind of love our parents had. A type of love neither of us thought we’d ever find.
* * *
Brody and I stand side by side at the kitchen counter, ingredients spread out in front of us. Preparing dinner together is a normalcy I’m growing used to.
Brody effortlessly chops vegetables, the knife moving swiftly. I watch him, impressed by how domestic he looks right now.
He offers me a smirk. “See something interesting?”
I don’t look away. “Just something I want.”
“Mmm. Well, tonight, you’re dessert.” His tone drips with gentle amusement, his eyes glinting with teasing mischief. “I even have whipped cream.”
I laugh. “Where will you put it?”
“All over you, and I plan to lick it off,” he counters smoothly.
“Can we have dessert first?” I ask.
He stops chopping and stares at me. “You’ll ruin your dinner.”
“Tease!” Rolling my eyes, I bump my hip against him.
His laughter is rich, and it makes my heart flutter.
“This feels right. Easy,” I say, dropping my gaze as I slowly dice bell peppers exactly how he showed me.
When I glance back at him, his expression is thoughtful, and his eyes are sincere. “It does.”
Silence settles between us for the next ten minutes, broken only by the sounds of our meal preparation. Tonight, we’re making skillet beef tips with steak, peppers, onions, mushrooms, and garlic.
Brody drops the seasoned steak into the cast iron skillet, and the aroma immediately drifts through the cabin. My mouth waters in anticipation.
“Once this is browned, we’ll take it out, then cook the veggies until they’re translucent,” he explains. “This is one of my favorite meals.”
“Yeah? You’re my favorite meal,” I tell him, reaching into the cabinet and pulling down two wineglasses.
Thankfully, we picked up a bottle of red from the store when we went.
“You’re such a bad fucking girl,” he mutters as I uncork it and fill our glasses nearly full.
I swirl the liquid around as he removes the meat from the pan.
“You enjoy it,” I tell him with a chuckle.
“I do,” he says.
I move closer to him, and we lean into each other’s presence.
“Brody?” I finally speak again, my voice barely above a whisper after I take another sip of wine.
He glances at me.
“All of this—I don’t think I could’ve handled any of it without you.”
He leans over and kisses my forehead. “You’re stronger than you think, Harp. Give yourself more credit.”
He continues stirring the veggies and cooking them until they’re done, and then he dumps everything into one skillet.
“Wow, good job, Chef. This looks incredible,” I say, standing on my tiptoes to grab two bowls from the cabinet.
We load our bowls full, and I realize I’ve won the lottery with him.
“You can cook. You clean. You’re an incredible lover. Honestly, I’m glad you built a barrier around yourself for me.”
Laughter rolls out of him. “I’m a catch. What can I say?”
“Love that Calloway cockiness. I expect nothing else,” I tell him, shooting him a wink. “But it’s true. You are a catch.”
After dinner, the cabin settles into a quiet calm, punctuated only by the gentle crackle of the fireplace and The Golden Girls on TV. Brody sits beside me on the couch with the bottle of wine on the coffee table.
His phone rings, and he makes a face when he sees it’s Billie.
“She’s probably going to give us hell for that photo,” I tell him. “Answer.”
Brody puts it on speakerphone, and Billie is hysterical.
His brows furrow. “Hey, hey, what’s up?”
“They took her!” Billie screams into the phone. “They took her right outside of the office.”
“Billie. Calm down, please. Explain. Took who?”
“Mia! We were walking into Bellamore, and some man took her. They threw a cover over her head, and I think they thought it was Harper. I’ve called the police, and … and … they could’ve taken me, too, but I ran, Brody. Like you told me. I ran and locked down the building.”
My eyes are wide, and my heart is racing.
Mia is our chief marketing officer at Bellamore, and she does have the same build and hair as me. We’ve been confused for one another in the past. But still, this doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand.
“Where are you? Are you alone?”
“No, no,” she says. “Asher’s with me. I have security following me now. It’s gotten so bad and out of control. I’m so scared.” Billie sobs, and I’m spiraling and freaking out.
“Who do you think is responsible?” he asks.
“Micah,” she whispers. “I saw him.”
My heart feels like it might beat out of my chest.
“Please stay safe. Please protect Harper. I have to go,” she says, then ends the call without listening for his response.
Brody stares at his phone, his nostrils flaring. His jaw clenches tight, and he looks at me. I see the storm swirling in his eyes.
“What does this mean?” I ask, stressed and worried.
Brody is lost in thought. “I have to find more information about Micah. I’ve been digging deeper after what you told me. There’s something here … I just haven’t quite figured it out yet. The fact that he took Mia—what the fuck?!”
He’s livid in a way I’ve never seen before. Unease floods along my spine as he grabs his laptop. Brody opens information that contains names, dates, and cryptic messages, sending a wave of dread through me.
My gaze catches on a name in an email—Blaire Bowers.
A memory jolts through me, sharp and vivid. I straighten abruptly, a chill slithering down my back. “Blaire Bowers—Brody, I know that name.”
He immediately turns, his expression sharp with urgency. “From where?”
“She sent him a text message the morning we had brunch in Newport.” My voice trembles slightly, my pulse quickening as memories flood back, disjointed and frantic. “Micah was on a call with someone in Newport. After he ended it, she texted him, and I saw it. I don’t know what the message said, but it was her name.”
Brody’s jaw tightens visibly, fury flashing through his eyes. “He had contact with her.”
“Yes.” I swallow hard, anxiety knotting in my stomach. “At the time, I thought he was cheating.”
Brody clicks rapidly, pulling up another tab, revealing a photograph of a smiling young woman with long, dark hair and blue eyes. Underneath, bold letters declare she has been missing from Newport for two weeks.
“That’s her?” I whisper, horror gripping my throat as I realize our similarities. “Oh God, she’s missing?”
He nods grimly, fingers tightening into fists. “She’s not the only one. There’s a list of women. Most of them had some kind of connection to him—personal or business. There have been whispers online for a while now, but everyone is afraid to name.”
The realization hits me with brutal force, a sickening twist of guilt and dread churning inside me. “How did I not see this?”
Brody reaches out, gripping my hand, grounding me. “He’s a master manipulator.”
I shake my head slightly, breath shallow as another memory resurfaces. “He always took these strange, secretive calls. He’d step outside, away from me. He’d be furious afterward, snapping at anyone around him. Once, he said something about ‘keeping the situation contained,’ and I thought it was some work scandal, not …”
“Not kidnapping or possibly worse,” Brody finishes, his voice rough with fury. “He’s more dangerous than any of us realized. And this is just the tip of the iceberg.”
His eyes hold mine. “I will uncover the truth. These women deserve justice.”
I squeeze his hand, drawing strength from him. “I can’t lose you.”
“Never.” Brody’s promise burns brightly in his dark blue eyes. “Everyone is working to take him down.”
I feel both comforted by Brody’s presence and haunted by the shadows Micah has cast over our lives. This revelation is darker than I ever imagined it could be.
“This ends soon,” Brody says with determination in his voice. “We have to find Mia.”
“This is my fault,” I whisper.
“No,” he says, wrapping his arm around me and kissing my forehead. It’s the only thing that brings light to this darkness surrounding me.
A chill runs down my spine as I realize that could’ve been me.
Micah has to be stopped before he hurts someone else.