Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
STERLING
One month later
“And you’re positive that this is over?” Harlow asks Walter, who’s sitting opposite us both in the office of the law firm he owns. Beside him Ben watches us closely, his jaw gripped tight as his father nods. He has been a good friend this past month, and I’m so fucking grateful to him, to Drix, Lia, Dalton and Daisy too. They’ve rallied around us both, offering their love and support. Pity that the rest of Princetown have only seen fit to twist this horrible experience into a gossip that has had the paparazzi hounding us, so much so we’ve had to seek shelter at Walter’s home until the storm passes.
“It was self-defence, Harlow. What happened was not your fault,” Walter replies firmly, his gaze flicking to our lawyer, Charles, who nods in agreement.
“Absolutely. Robert’s stream of messages, the fact that he attacked you and Harlow so viciously combined with the amount of money he paid to obtain every single one of your paintings have all led to the same conclusion,” Charles explains. “The judge has ruled his death as a result of self-defence after months of harassment. This is over.”
I nod, my hand squeezing Harlow’s as she sits quietly by my side. “Thank you for managing this all so quickly,” I say, looking from Walter to Charles.
“You’re welcome. Now I have some final paperwork to finish. If you’ll excuse me?” Charles asks, gathering up the file in front of him before standing.
“Of course,” Walter agrees, waiting for him to leave the office before breaking the silence. “I know that this past month has been really difficult for you both, especially you, Harlow. But I want you to know that the people who care about you the most, do not blame you for any of this.”
“He was your friend,” Harlow whispers, and even though we’ve talked about this over and over, she still feels immense guilt despite knowing that if she hadn’t acted then my father would have tried to kill us both. If I could change what happened, I’d do so in a heartbeat. I’ve struggled with the fact that Harlow is carrying the burden of killing my father, albeit by accident. All I ever wanted was to keep her safe, and I failed.
“Regrettably, yes,” Walter replies with a sigh. “But that man doesn’t deserve your guilt, and no matter our past relationship, I do not condone his actions in any way. Harlow, you did what you had to do, and for what it’s worth I’m proud of you.”
Harlow lets out a small sob, and I wrap my arm around her, hauling her into my side. “My mother isn’t,” she whispers. “She still blames me.”
“Your mother will get over it,” Walter snaps, his feelings for Melody about the same as my own, that is, we both despise her.
The way she treated Harlow in the aftermath of that night was disgusting. The police were called, statements were taken, and rather than Melody comforting Harlow after everything was explained, she’d attacked her in a fit of rage. If we never see that woman again it will be too soon.
Harlow lets out a shuddering breath. “She’ll never forgive me.”
“It isn’t you that should be seeking her forgiveness, not after how she’s treated you, Harlow,” Ben says firmly, fully aware of what has happened, and how her mother has behaved since.
Despite my father’s prenup, she has become a very wealthy woman, a fifth of my father’s money now lining her bank balance. Thankfully Walter’s lawyers were quickly able to put a gag order in place, preventing Melody from profiting off of the events of that night after we found out she was courting one of the gossip magazines. She’s since left for Los Angeles, taking her riches with her. Good fucking riddance.
Unsurprisingly, my father left me very little in his will, most of my inheritance was wrapped up in clauses that I never fulfilled. Mainly taking over his businesses, of which I never wanted anything to do with. The deeds to Adaga Hall will be passed onto me as the surviving heir as was written in a watertight contract penned over a hundred years ago by my great, great grandfather who had the foresight to ensure that the property would only ever be owned by a Blade, despite my father’s apparent attempts over the years to try and get around that particular stipulation.
And despite knowing that my father bought all the paintings of Harlow, they are now back in our possession, the millions of pounds he paid to secure them used to assist Daisy and Dalton, freeing both them, and Drix, from Carl’s hold. At the very least something good came out of this whole mess.
“Are you planning on moving back into Adaga Hall?” Walter asks me, quickly adding, “You are of course welcome to stay with us for as long as you need. There is absolutely no rush.”
“Actually, we’ve decided to do some travelling for a few months before returning to Adaga Hall,” I explain. “We need to get away for a while. We’re meeting my mother in Sydney, Australia towards the end of our trip. She’s always wanted to visit the country, and Harlow and I are keen to spend some time with her.”
Walter grins. “That sounds like a great plan. Let us know when you’re returning, and I’ll host a dinner party to welcome you home.”
“I will. Thank you, Walter, for everything,” I reply, climbing to my feet.
Harlow rises too and after a quick exchange of goodbyes, Ben follows us out of the building and onto the quiet backstreets of Princetown, where our cars are parked.
“Fancy a drink at Bandits?” he asks, eyeing us both.
“Harlow?” I question, acutely aware that today has been taxing on her mental wellbeing.
“Actually, I think that would be really nice,” she replies, giving us both a wavering smile.
“Mind if the rest of the gang join us?” Ben asks, giving me a look that tells me he’s already invited them.
“Of course not,” Harlow says. “We wanted to say goodbye before we left anyway.”
“Excellent.”
Ten minutes later we’re locked in at Bandits Bar. It’s closed for the evening, and we’re surrounded by our close friends. Behind the bar Ben is gathering drinks for everyone, whilst I chat with Dalton and Drix, and Harlow is talking with Lia and Daisy.
“How’s Harlow doing?” Drix asks me, casting his gaze her way before giving my shoulder a squeeze.
“She could be better,” I admit. “It’s been rough, you know?”
“I bet, mate.”
“She’s strong, and she has you,” Dalton chimes in, his voice filled with reassurance.
I offer them both a small smile of gratitude as Ben approaches with the drinks. Setting the tray on the table, he hands them out.
“How about some music?” he suggests, eyeing the jukebox in the corner of the bar before pulling a face. “Sorry, Sterling, probably not the best idea I’ve ever had.”
“Actually, I thought maybe I could sing?” Harlow says, rising to her feet. She gives me a questioning look, always aware of my condition, and checking in on my wellbeing. “It’s been a while, and I guess I just wanted to…” Her voice trails off as she chews on her lip.
“We’d love that,” I tell her, offering my reassurance. I’m aware that singing for her is not just a way to express her feelings, but is also a source of comfort. I haven’t heard her sing since that night at the hotel. I’ve missed her voice—and, if I’m being honest, the colours it brings to life. I haven’t been able to paint in weeks, despite my attempts. Even though music still triggers my synesthesia, nothing captures the vividness of colour quite like Harlow’s voice. Nothing.
Ben grins, ducking back behind the bar to fetch a microphone, before handing it to her. Then he takes a seat next to me, whilst Lia drops onto Drix’s lap and Dalton pulls Daisy into his side.
“I’m going to sing acapella, if that’s okay,” she asks, looking between us.
Everyone mutters their approval. “Of course,” I say.
Harlow looks into my eyes, her gaze filled with a tenderness that takes my breath away. “If it weren’t for your synesthesia, you might never have walked into Smokey Joe’s the night we first met, and I may have never known this love, this feeling I have for you now,” she says, dragging in a steadying breath. “I need you to understand that I love you for everything you are. There’s nothing about you that doesn’t have my heart. This song... it’s everything I want to say to you. You may create masterpieces, Sterling... But you, you are my work of art,” she continues.
A beat later she raises the microphone to her lips and begins to sing, and by God, the colour that appears before my eyes pales in comparison to the beauty of her voice as she sings Work of Art by Benson Boone.
Her beautiful voice is like a conductor of my synesthesia and I absorb every breathtaking colour, every enchanting note that dances in the air around us. The room seems to fade away, leaving only me and Harlow. I can feel her love pouring out of her. Every word, and every note, painting a vibrant masterpiece in my mind that no brush could ever replicate.
As the last note fades into the air, a hush falls over the bar. Harlow’s voice lingers like a whisper, carrying with it a depth of emotion that leaves us all spellbound. I catch Daisy swiping a tear from her eye and Lia clutching Drix’s hand tightly.
My chest heaves as I stare at the woman I love. A golden glow, sparkling with silver, flows around her, beckoning me to my feet. Only a few weeks ago, I’d have to suppress my emotions around her, I’d have to hide my love, but I don’t have to do that any longer.
Harlow sets the microphone down gently, and without a word, I cross the distance between us, palming her cheeks, as I say, “My love for you is more vibrant than any colour on the spectrum. You are my muse, Harlow, the beating heart that fuels my very existence, and I love you with everything and all that I am.”
Then I press my lips against hers in a heart-stopping kiss, claiming her as mine.