24. Halliday
24
HALLIDAY
“Interesting setup,” Sullivan comments as he studies the circle of crystals I’ve laid out on the living room rug.
Sterling went into Seasons early this morning, and I’m planning on calling some potential new clients before meeting him for lunch later. Sullivan hasn’t visited before unless Sterling’s been here, so it’s a nice surprise, despite catching me off guard.
“I was meditating. You can join me if you like?” I offer.
His brows rise sharply like I’ve suggested a stroll through Times Square stark bollock naked.
“It’s good to take time out for ourselves. Life can get really busy sometimes,” I add.
“How else would we want it to be?”
“Not a fast-track ride to burnout?” I smile weakly as he pins me with an unimpressed look.
Sterling didn’t need to tell me that Sullivan’s a workaholic, it’s obvious. He’d benefit from some breathing and visualization techniques. but it might take a while before I persuade him to try some.
“Would you like a drink? Matcha latte?”
“No, I’m not staying. I only came to give you this.” He holds a brown envelope out.
“What is it?”
“Open it.”
I take it hesitantly, my eyes dropping over him. He’s dressed in one of his usual suits—dark and impeccable. Just like him. I’ve never seen him flustered. Never actually seen him smile, unless it’s for his daughter, Molly.
His gaze shifts from the envelope to my face as I pull the paperwork out and he waits for my reaction. The cool blue of his irises penetrate me like a shot of icy water as I glance at him. No wonder he’s a formidable force in business. I’ve heard grown men have left his boardroom in tears. Now I understand how.
“Read it, Halliday.”
“Umm, sure…” My heart rate picks up with each new sentence I scan over. “Are you serious?” I scoff, unable to stop myself.
Sullivan’s eyes pinch a fraction at the corners. “Deadly.”
Ouch.
I straighten, pulling my shoulders back as I read the document more thoroughly.
“Let’s make this quick, I don’t have all day.”
“You want me to sign a non-disclosure agreement?” The words swim in and out of focus as the finality of them slams into me like a lead weight.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls a pen from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and presses the lid with an ominous click.
Miss Burton agrees not to talk to the press about her relationship with Mr. Beaufort. Miss Burton will decline, if asked, to acknowledge, confirm, or deny, that a relationship occurred between herself and Mr. Beaufort.
It’s not just an NDA. It’s a gagging order. One that prevents me from talking to anyone about Sterling, not even my family. It erases our relationship if we were to ever break up. All traces. Gone.
“This is… very specific.”
“The same courtesy has been extended to you. My father will sign it as well.” Sullivan sounds bored as if he wishes I’d hurry up and stop taking up his time.
“Does he know I’m signing this?”
“ Are you signing it? Or are you going to drag this out far longer than necessary?” He holds my gaze. “Beauforts stick together, Halliday. You know that from the little time you’ve spent with my father so far. Or were you not paying attention? Too busy thinking about your husband.”
“Ex-husband! Not even that,” I bite, irritation bursting up my spine that he’s bringing up Rory. I glare at him before snatching the pen from his hand.
“That might be so. But I don’t know you. And I don’t like not knowing a person’s… motivations . Besides, if you love my father, then why wouldn’t you sign? This is only in the event you… part ways.”
I get it. I do. I’m twenty years younger than his father. And Sterling is eye wateringly rich. But it’s the way he says it, insinuating that there’s something underhand to this. When our love is one of the purest, most magical things I’ve ever been blessed with.
“Okay.” I take a deep breath, centering myself, and turning my attention back to the contract.
Flipping the pages, I find the parts I’m looking for and score through them with determined slashes of black ink.
“What are you doing?” Sullivan snaps.
“Making some adjustments,” I retort, scoring through another paragraph of text.
I check I’ve not missed any parts I want to remove, then sign on the line and date it.
“There.” I slide it across the counter toward Sullivan and place the pen on top.
“Adjustments?” One dark brow hitches in curiosity. “Enlighten me,” he drawls like a cat toying with a mouse.
I soften my voice. “No one should ever have to go through what your family has. Sterling’s been through enough. And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect him like he’s always protected me since we met.”
I’ll give it to him; his poker face is impenetrable. But I see the way his pupils flare in reaction to my admission. He flicks through the paperwork, looking at the sections I’ve crossed out.
“You sure about this?” he clips.
“Couldn’t be surer.” I smile but am met with eyes that still hold suspicion. Beauforts really do stick together. And it’s painfully obvious Sullivan considers me to be outside of that circle. I can only hope that time will prove to him that I genuinely love his father and don’t have any hidden motives.
“You crossed through all the parts that prevent my father talking about you,” he states.
“That’s right. I won’t talk about him or your family. But I’m not subjecting him to the same silencing. He’s had people make decisions for him before. He’s had his choice taken away. If things ended between us…” Pain sears through my heart, the thought is crushing even though my soul tells me it will never happen. “If things ended, then I want to give him freedom to say what he wants about me and talk to whoever he wants. Because I will never take away his choice.”
We fall into silence, until I ask. “How’s Sinclair?”
“Still mad at you.”
“Oh,” I murmur.
It’s been so long, and I miss her friendship. The thought of her never coming around to the idea of me and Sterling together hurts me more than Sullivan asking me to sign an NDA. I’m happy to sign it and move on. But nothing I’ve said in texts or voicemails has made a difference to Sinclair. What if she never accepts our relationship?
I turn away to return to my meditating, needing the calm more than anything.
“Wait!” Sullivan barks. He slides the paperwork back into the envelope and buttons his suit jacket.
“Do you need me to sign something else?”
“That won’t be necessary.” His jaw clenches.
“Okay then.” I turn away and his low-spoken words sink into my back.
“I’ve spent three years answering questions from people about how my father is. And ‘fine’ is not a word I want in my vocabulary when I have to answer them. Do you know what I told someone who asked yesterday?”
“What?” I frown, turning around.
“I told them he’s the happiest I’ve seen him since that day. That he’s in love .” He grimaces at the word. “Now… you’re the divine power facilitator, as you call yourself, so garner that power and facilitate whatever the hell it takes to make sure I can always tell people that.”
“I will, I promise.”
He nods curtly but says nothing.
I stare after him as he strides away, the sound of the front door closing echoing through the penthouse.