Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
HARLOW
“You look beautiful, Harlow,” Sterling murmurs, his fingertips grazing over mine as we stroll towards the entrance of the church.
It’s Dalton and Daisy’s wedding day and according to my mother the whole town has been gossiping about their relationship, and the real reason they’re getting married. I choose to believe it’s for love, and even if it isn’t, it’s none of my business anyway, but all the gossip has only served to remind me what Sterling and I would have to face if our secret got out.
“Thank you,” I reply, my pulse spiking from his brief touch as I steal a glance at him. He’s wearing a navy blue suit that brings out the blue of his eyes, making them even more striking than usual.
I wish I could twine my fingers with his, instead I reach up and tighten the deep burgundy shawl that matches the colour of my dress around my shoulders to fend off the cold.
“I’ve missed you,” he adds, and even though we only saw each other yesterday, I know what he means.
Since that night Sterling crept into my bedroom a couple of weeks ago, we’ve only managed to steal brief moments of time with each other. But it’s never enough, and I know that we’re both feeling the loss of each other’s company. In front of our parents, he keeps up the charade of resenting spending time with me, and in turn I hide my true feelings for him. It hasn’t been easy, and I can't help but feel a sense of impending doom looming over us that seems to increase with every passing day. I still haven't told him about the messages I've been receiving, afraid that if I do, he'll want to confront the issue directly, and I'm scared that in doing so it will destroy the fragile balance we have created. I'm not ready just yet to face the consequences of our relationship being exposed.
On top of that my mother has been demanding as usual, and I’ve been busy fielding emails, scheduling upcoming events in her diary and managing her busy schedule. So much for her becoming a lady of leisure, though Robert doesn’t seem to mind. He’s too busy with his own business dealings, and is often in his office for hours a day working. It’s apparent that their honeymoon period is well and truly over.
Meanwhile, Sterling and his father have reached a tense truce, but the animosity between them still simmers beneath the surface. They barely speak to each other, but when they do their conversations are filled with sly digs, and barbed comments, making our occasional dinners together more than a little awkward.
“I’ve missed you too,” I reply, keeping my voice quiet as wedding guests gather on the steps of the church to greet Carl, Dalton’s father, before stepping inside.
“Ah, Sterling, Harlow, so nice to see you both,” Carl says, as we reach him.
“Carl,” Sterling says tightly, his jaw clenching as Carl leans in to kiss my cheek in greeting.
“You look rather fetching, Harlow.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, feeling wholly uncomfortable at the way he’s looking at me.
Sterling steps closer, resting his palm on the base of my spine. It’s a possessive move, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Carl. He hitches a brow, and I don’t like the assessing look in his gaze.
“Dalton informed me that you sang at Benedict’s bar not too long ago. Quite the entertainer are we?”
“I was just standing in for the band that usually plays. It’s not something I intend on doing again.”
“Why, you were incredible!” Sterling interrupts, slamming his mouth shut when he realises his mistake.
Carl cocks a brow. “I’m surprised you even enjoyed it given your–”
Given his what?
“Carl, thank you so much for the invitation,” a familiar voice says, cutting Carl off as he turns to greet Councillor John Hoxton and his wife Elodie, who looks as uneasy as I feel.
I frown, partly from wondering what Carl was about to say, but mostly from how Councillor Hoxton’s gaze hones in on me, his eyes flickering with recognition. I force a smile in return but am more than a little grateful when we use the distraction to escape.
“I can’t believe Carl invited that prick,” Sterling mutters under his breath as we step through the heavy wooden doors of the church, the scent of fresh flowers mingling with the soft strains of music filling the air.
“You don’t like him, I take it?”
“No,” Sterling retorts, his hand falling away as we follow the other guests inside the church.
“Me neither,” I admit
Sterling’s feet still as he snaps his head to the side to look at me. “Why?”
“He just made me feel a little uncomfortable when I was introduced to him at mom’s wedding.”
“Uncomfortable how?” Sterling asks, as we head towards a pew at the back of the church, neither one of us wants to sit anywhere near our parents who are already seated towards the front.
“Nothing he said in particular. There was just something about him I didn’t like.”
Sterling scowls as we take a seat. “That man has a reputation.”
“Reputation?”
“For stealing things that don’t belong to him,” he replies rather cryptically, eyeing the subject of our conversation as John passes us by with his wife, Elodie. I can’t help but notice how tightly his fingers are wrapped around her elbow, or the wince of pain on her face that she tries to hide with a smile when she notices me staring.
“Are you talking about Elodie? Has this got something to do with Ben?”
“In part, yes,” Sterling explains, his voice lowering as more guests fill up the rows in front of us. “Ben was dating Elodie for years. We were all convinced they were going to marry, and then all of a sudden she left him for that prick.”
“Why on earth would she do that?”
“I don’t know. Ben has never gotten over it. He’s planning on making a move though,” Sterling reveals, wincing a little when he realises he may have said too much.
“A move how?”
“Now’s probably not the time to talk about that,” Sterling replies, flicking his gaze to a couple who’ve settled at the other end of the pew that we’re sitting on. “I’ll tell you later, okay?”
“Sure,” I agree. “So, what was Carl about to say before he was interrupted earlier?” I ask instead.
“Remind me what he said,” Sterling murmurs, side-eyeing me.
“He seemed surprised that you enjoy listening to me sing. I don’t know, it was as though he was going to say more…” My voice trails off as Sterling shifts in his seat.
“Carl is my dad’s best friend. They talk. I made a mistake in complimenting you, so he was probably referring to that. I’ll be more careful next time.”
“Yes, of course. That makes sense, I suppose,” I reply evenly, and if it wasn’t for the tense way Sterling is holding himself, I might’ve believed him.
As it is, I feel like I’m missing something, or that he’s hiding something from me, and I’m not sure what makes me feel worse, the fact that he’s keeping something from me, or the fact that I’m doing the same in return.
For the next few minutes as we listen to the string quartet hidden away in the balcony above us, waiting for Daisy to arrive, I can’t help but steal glances at Sterling whose gaze is fixed on Dalton standing at the altar. A muscle feathers in his jaw, tension oozing from him. I know that being around a lot of people is difficult for him, and I long to place my hand on his thigh to comfort him, but of course I don’t.
“Are you okay?” I ask instead, resting my hand on the pew between us, my pinky grazing against his thigh. He looks over at me, some of the strain around his eyes softening as I caress his leg with the gentlest of touches.
“I’m good,” he whispers out, something flickering in his eyes, something that looks an awful like longing.
After a beat he places his hand over mine, and I can’t help but wonder if his heart is pounding as much as mine is, because the slightest touch from Sterling has my body reacting.
Dropping my gaze to the Bible tucked into the back of the pew in front of me, I blow out a shaky breath, trying to calm my racing pulse. I long to lean into Sterling’s side, but for now, the warmth of his palm against mine will have to do. Moments later the processional music begins to play, and every guest turns to watch Daisy enter the church with her brother Drix, offering us both a welcome distraction.
“Wow!” I gasp, studying Daisy's breathtaking wedding gown.
It's unlike anything I've ever seen before, and is simply exquisite. The bodice hugs her figure perfectly, leading into a long chiffon skirt that seems to gracefully dance around her legs with every step she takes. But it's not just the style of the dress that makes it so stunning; it's the gorgeous pastel shades of pink, blue, yellow, green, and lilac that blend together seamlessly to create a gorgeous ombré effect.
“Stunning,” Sterling murmurs, a smile spreading across his face as we watch her approach Dalton, who is staring at her so intently that I wonder if he’s even aware of anyone else in the church.
The way they look at each other throughout the ceremony and during their wedding vows reveals a connection stronger than what I imagine many of the gossiping attendees had anticipated. Dalton’s gaze never falters from Daisy’s face, and she in turn looks up at him with flushed cheeks and shining eyes just like any other bride would look at their husband on their wedding day.
“You may now kiss the bride,” the vicar eventually says with a smile.
Dalton steps forward, reaching up to cup Daisy’s cheeks. There’s a moment of stillness when she tips her head back to look up at him, and he leans forward and whispers something against her mouth that makes her gasp, before kissing her.
And boy does he kiss her.
It’s heated, undeniably passionate, and I shift in my seat feeling a sudden sense of loss . Here are two people sharing an intimate moment in front of a church full of people, and here I am terrified that someone will see us holding hands.
“Harlow…” Sterling murmurs, drawing my attention to him. I’m met with agony in his gaze and I know he’s thinking the same thing too.
“It’s okay,” I whisper back, but my response is drowned out beneath the sounds of everyone clapping, which slowly peters out when Dalton raises his hand.
“Can I have your attention, please?” he says, his voice rising above the noise. The guests fall silent, waiting as Dalton lifts his chin in what appears to be a defiant gesture. Beside him Daisy frowns, an uneasy expression on her face.
“What’s going on?” I whisper.
“I’ve no idea,” Sterling replies.
“My wife and I will be heading directly to our honeymoon,” Dalton continues, his voice cutting through the whispered conversations. “The reception party will still go ahead, and of course you must all attend to celebrate our marriage, but we won’t be in attendance.”
“Excuse me?” Carl rises from his seat in the front row, his voice clipped, angry. “We have the press waiting, Dalton!”
Dalton glares at his father as Daisy’s face pales, and the rest of us just watch on with varying degrees of surprise. I can see my mother look up at Robert, her eyes widening with shock and dare I say it, glee. She’ll be living off this moment for weeks.
“This isn’t up for discussion. We’re leaving now,” Dalton snaps, and I can’t help but notice how he tightens his grip on Daisy’s hand, pulling her closer. She steps into his side, her body leaning into his and I have the urge to do the same with Sterling. The way Dalton’s father is reacting, and the way the whole congregation is muttering their disapproval has me on edge.
“The hell you are!” Carl seethes.
“Daisy’s happiness is my priority, and staying here for a second longer so the vast majority of you can all pretend to be happy for us both whilst gossiping behind our backs is something that I will not tolerate. I will also not allow the press to invade our privacy. I don’t give a fuck about the deals you’ve made without our permission, father ,” Dalton retorts with a snarl.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, equally horrified by the fact that Dalton is even having to address the gossiping at his own wedding, and impressed by his boldness in standing up to his father. I don’t know Dalton all that well, or Daisy for that matter, but I do know a man in love when I see one.
The tension in the church is palpable, with murmurs and gasps rippling through the guests.
“Why you ungrateful–” Carl begins, but Dalton holds his hand up, cutting him off.
“Enjoy your evening everybody,” he says, before striding up the aisle, Daisy’s hand firmly grasped in his.
“Well isn’t this quite the embarrassment,” my mother says under her breath as we sit at one of the circular tables in the beautifully decorated ballroom of Carl’s palatial mansion.
Next to her, Robert is currently talking with Councillor John Hoxton, whilst his wife Elodie is chatting with a woman I’ve never met before. Sterling is sitting stiffly beside me, giving monosyllabic responses to a business acquaintance of Carl’s.
Neither of us want to be here.
Even Drix, Lia and Ben made their excuses, leaving shortly after Dalton and Daisy. I wish Sterling and I had the chance to do the same, but as usual my mother and his father made that impossible, and so here we are.
“What on earth was Dalton thinking? His father has paid an awful lot of money for this reception,” she babbles on. “And did you see her dress? What a monstrosity–”
“Mom, stop it,” I warn, the last thing I want right now is to get drawn into a conversation about Daisy and Dalton’s absence, especially not when Carl is approaching the table, and neither do I want to listen to her making fun of Daisy’s beautiful wedding dress.
“Are you enjoying yourselves?” Carl asks, his words a little slurred as he grips the back of Robert’s chair and glances around the table. I notice that his tie is undone, and the top bottom of his shirt loosened.
“The meal was delicious, and the company even better. We’re having a wonderful time,” my mother replies with practised ease, her smile drifting into place as Carl glances at her, his eyes more than a little glassy.
“Well, I’m glad someone is,” he retorts with a scoff.
“Carl, let’s go for a walk,” Robert says, easing back his chair as he moves to stand. It’s obvious he’s attempting to get Carl out of the room before he says or does something to embarrass himself. I consider asking Robert to take my mother with them.
“Actually, I was coming over here to ask if Harlow would sing,” Carl replies, looking over at me.
“Oh no, I couldn’t,” I say, shaking my head. It was one thing to sing at Bandits Bar for a small crowd of people as a favour to Ben, quite another in front of a group of people who prefer to gossip about things that don’t concern them.
“Well, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Harlow isn’t used to singing for such a large audience. Besides it’s just a hobby,” my mother states, her mouth pressing into a hard line.
“She sang at your wedding, and there were over a hundred more people there,” Carl points out, his gaze coasting over me in a way that makes me feel more than a little uncomfortable.
“Yes, I for one would love to hear you sing again,” Councillor Hoxton adds, giving me a smile that is more snakelike than friendly. I suppress a shudder. “I’m sure Robert would too, he’s always boasting about your singing ability, Harlow. Dare I say he’s quite the proud step-father.”
“He does?” my mother asks, barely able to disguise her surprise, or the way she snaps her head around to stare at Robert.
His gaze moves between us, a flicker of annoyance crossing his expression at my mother’s reaction. “Of course I’m proud. We both are,” Robert adds, pointedly looking at my mother.
Sterling stiffens beside me, and I can’t bring myself to look at his expression. It must feel awful for him to hear that Robert has been complimenting my singing to his business partners, when all he can do is throw snide remarks his way every day.
“Thank you, but even so. I’d rather not,” I insist, shaking my head.
Beneath the table, I feel Sterling’s hand press against my thigh, which up until this moment I hadn’t realised was jiggling up and down with anxiety. I don’t know why I feel so anxious, it’s not like any of them can force me to sing.
“Oh, but you must, we’d all love to hear you sing once more. Wouldn’t we, Elodie?” Councillor Hoxton continues, his gaze flicking to his wife.
Beside him Elodie nods. “Yes, of course.” Yet, when her husband’s attention is back on me, she shakes her head. It’s minute, the movement, but I catch it nevertheless. So did Sterling too, given the way he squeezes my thigh.
“Do you take requests? I’d love to hear Songbird . Elodie and I walked down the aisle to that song, didn’t we, my love,” Councillor Hoxton says, his eyebrows lifting as he stares at me.
I feel all the colour drain from my face.
Songbird ?
Oh my God, is he…?
My anxiety turns to outright panic as I push back from the table, standing abruptly. “I’m actually not feeling all that well. I’m sorry. I can’t sing for you,” I say directly to Carl who’s knocking back another mouthful of whatever alcohol he has in glass.
Sterling’s hand remains under the table, and I feel his knuckles gently brush against the side of my thigh before he stands too. “Would you like me to take you home?”
“That’s not necessary,” Robert interjects, looking between us both. “I’m happy to do so.”
“Robert!” my mother exclaims, clearly put out. “She’s quite capable of calling a cab. Why ruin our evening too?”
“I’m sorry I thought you made me her designated chauffeur?” Sterling retorts, making sure to add that little tidbit for everyone to digest. “Stay with your wife, I’ll make sure Harlow gets home safe.”
“Yes, exactly. Sterling should take Harlow home,” my mother adds, waving her hand in the air as though she’s trying her best to waft us both out of the ballroom like annoying specs of dust.
Robert clears his throat. “Fine, of course.”
“Harlow,” Sterling says, his fingers briefly cupping my elbow. I flinch from his touch, feeling more than a little jumpy as Councillor Hoxton continues to stare at me. Sweat beads on my forehead and trickles down my spine, and with every passing second I’m beginning to feel more and more nauseous.
It’s him. He’s my stalker. I know it.
Sterling’s hand falls away, and Robert smiles. “You know it’s terribly heartwarming to see you looking after your sister so well.”
“She’s not my–”
“Nice to meet you all again,” I cut in, before striding off and ending the conversation altogether.
“Harlow, talk to me, what’s going on? You were quiet the whole way home,” Sterling says as he follows me into my bedroom half an hour later.
“I just don’t feel well. I have a headache and I’m a little nauseous,” I whisper, turning my back to him as I head into my ensuite.
My hands are trembling and I do feel like throwing up, but not because I have some sudden stomach bug. All I keep thinking about are the messages I’ve received, how I’ve been suppressing how frightened they’ve made me feel, and that Councillor Hoxton said that his wedding song was Songbird . I knew the moment I met him that something was off about him, and his behaviour tonight has only cemented my fears.
He’s my stalker.
God, what am I going to do? He’s a business acquaintance of Robert’s, and someone I’ll likely see again. There’s clearly something going on with him and his wife, she is always so jumpy around him. Does he hurt her? Does he want to hurt me too? Then my mind decides at that point to remind me of every message he’s sent.
Will you scream when I force my dick inside of you? Will you enjoy it?
Do you need proof of how much I want to fuck you, is that it? Because, believe me when I say, I’m hard right now…
Bile rises up my throat, and I throw a hand over my mouth but it’s no use, I can’t stop it. Dropping to my knees, I lift the toilet seat and throw up.
“Jesus, Harlow,” Sterling exclaims, dropping to his knees beside me, his hand resting on my back as I empty my stomach.
When we’re finally together, you’ll sing for me every day my sweet songbird. Perhaps I’ll even build you a cage?
I retch again, tears spilling from my eyes as Sterling keeps rubbing my back. What the hell am I going to do? This is so fucked up.
“Oh God,” I murmur, dragging in deep lungfuls of air.
“Easy,” Sterlings says, his voice soothing as I push back upright onto my haunches.
I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth, noticing that there’s some puke in my hair. “I’m sorry.”
“What for? You’re not feeling well, Harlow. You don’t need to apologise to me,” he replies, his gaze coasting over my features.
“What must you think of me?”
“I think that you’re sick, and that you need me to take care of you,” he replies, helping me to my feet. “Let’s get you undressed and into bed, okay? Then I’ll go and make you some toast, see if that helps to settle your stomach.”
“I’m not sure I can stomach any food. I think I should take a shower, I have puke in my hair,” I point out, acutely aware of how disgusting I must look.
Sterling frowns as I sway on my feet, another bout of nausea washing over me. “Then I’ll get in with you. I don’t want you passing out.”
“Sterling, our parents will be home soon. You can’t.”
He frowns, then gently urges me back onto the lip of the bath. “Stay there, I’m going to lock your bedroom door. If they come home early and try to check on you, we’ll at least have some warning.”
“Sterling…”
“It’ll be okay. Just give me a moment,” he replies. A moment later he returns, having already removed his suit jacket and shoes. “Let’s get you undressed.”
I don’t have the energy to argue, so I sit quietly as he drops to his knees and gently slips off my heels, placing them to the side of the bath. Pushing upright, he takes my hands in his warm palms and helps me to stand.
“Turn around, Harlow, I need to unzip your dress.”
I nod, following his instructions. Ever so gently Sterling removes my dress, cupping my elbow as I step out of the material. Then his fingers trace over my skin as he unclasps my bra and removes my panties. Completely naked before him, he brushes past me and turns on the shower.
“You okay?” he murmurs, pulling off his tie then unbuttoning his shirt.
“I’ve been better,” I reply, giving him a shaky smile.
I watch him as he removes his clothes, and places them on the vanity. My gaze traces over his bare chest and his growing erection. Heat climbs up my cheeks.
“Apologies, I can’t help how my body reacts to you. Please ignore it, Harlow,” he says, giving me a rueful grin as he takes my hand and leads me into the shower.
Warm water cascades over us both, and I heave out a tremulous breath. “Thank you for looking after me,” I whisper. “It’s not something I’m used to.”
Sterling frowns before gently tugging me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me as he presses a tender kiss against my forehead. “I’m here for you, Harlow.”
“I’m going to miss this,” I mumble against his neck.
“Miss this?” he questions, drawing back slightly.
“On Monday I’m travelling to London with Robert and mom for that interview they’re going to do for a magazine article. Robert gave it the go ahead, and I finalised the details just yesterday. We’re going to be away for a few days, maybe even a week as we’ve tacked on a meeting with her agent and another newspaper.”
“A few days? Can’t you get out of it?”
I shake my head, feeling my heart sink at his disappointment. “I’d love nothing more than to spend that time with you, but this is my job. I have to go.”
“Fuck, Harlow. I’m going to go crazy without you,” he replies, pulling me back into his arms.
“Believe me, there’s nowhere I’d rather be than with you. You make me feel wanted, cared for. You make me feel safe , Sterling. Thank you for looking after me tonight.”
Neither of us say another word, and as we stand beneath the shower, wrapped in each other's arms, I push away the thought of my stalker, allowing the rhythmic sound of the water to drown out the unease creeping in. In Sterling’s arms I do feel safe, but deep down, a small, unsettling voice whispers that I’m anything but.