Chapter 7
HARPER
Sophia is in the back of the car when I exit my apartment building. Benjamin stands waiting beside the door.
“Good afternoon, Benjamin,” I say.
“Afternoon, Ms Feldmann,” he says, waiting for me to take a seat before shutting me inside.
“Afternoon, Sophia,” I say, taking in her immaculate hair, make-up, and clothing.
She gives me the once-over and smiles.
“How was your weekend?” she asks.
“It was fine,” I say, not wanting to tell her it was lonely, that I stayed in the whole time, too scared to venture out in case someone recognised me. “I organised my belongings.”
A task that took me all of five minutes.
She smiles and nods.
What she doesn’t realise is that I wasn’t able to bring any personal belongings. No family photographs or mementoes. Nothing that could connect me to Harper Frazer.
So, I spent the weekend alone, in a tiny apartment, with far too much time inside my own head, which is never a good thing.
Out of habit, my hand goes to the pendant around my neck. I drop it instantly, its weight and feel are wrong. The familiar comfort missing, locked away in Sophia’s safe.
“The plan for this afternoon,” she says, as if sensing my need to change the subject.
“When we get to the office, we’ll stop on the twentieth floor and visit Sandro.
Let him know we’re in the building. After we’ve seen him, we’ll visit Human Resources, where you can hand over your documentation.
They’ll be able to place you in one of the departments.
Give you something to do instead of sitting around your apartment all day,” she says.
I force a smile. “Thank you, that sounds great. Is there anything I should know in advance?”
Sophia looks over at me. “Remember everything we’ve discussed. Sandro is direct and highly driven. He takes his position as CEO very seriously.”
“He sounds like…”
Sophia shoots me a look, and I stop mid-sentence.
My siblings. Elijah, Caleb, Gabriel and Kat. They’re all driven individuals.
“He also values honesty. Do not let me down.”
Shit, she’s lying to her son on my behalf.
“I won’t,” I say, praying I don’t slip up.
Maybe if I just keep my head down and my mouth shut, we can all get through this unscathed.
Benjamin pulls into the parking garage under one of the many skyscrapers. The building is quite something, and St Clair headquarters occupies ten secure floors.
“We moved to these offices seven years ago,” Sophia tells me as we exit the elevator and enter reception.
“Mrs Bianchi. It’s lovely to see you,” the receptionist says, getting to her feet.
“Afternoon, Lucia,” she returns, stepping up to the desk. “This is Brooke Feldmann. Can you sign her in? We’re going up to visit my son, and then for an interview with HR.”
“Of course, Mrs Bianchi.” She returns to her seat and taps on her keyboard. “Look into the camera, please,” she says to me, tapping the tiny device on the desk in front of her.
My gaze shoots to Sophia, who nods.
On your own head be it.
The woman behind the desk looks over and smiles. I hold my breath, my heart hammering in my chest, waiting for a hint of recognition. When none comes, I tilt my lips, allowing a small smile. This is the first time I’ve been in an open, busy space since the story of the sex tape hit the press.
I wipe my palms on my trousers before taking the lanyard she’s pushed across the desk and sliding it over my head.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Enjoy your visit and good luck with the interview,” she says with a smile. “You both have a good day.”
Sophia turns, and we head back towards the large bank of elevators. I follow her inside, and we wait for the doors to close.
“Breathe,” she says, her eyes steely.
I’m beginning to wonder if I should offer to leave.
Before I get a chance, the doors open, and we step out.
“This way,” Sophia says, marching forward.
I drop my head, letting my hair cover the sides of my face.
Sophia stops and turns. “For goodness’ sake, head up. Walk with confidence. You look like you’ve got something to hide.”
Easy for you to say, I have… me!
I hold my tongue, reminding myself she’s only trying to help me, and I must admit, I did a double take this morning when I looked in the mirror. My hair is striking, but nothing like it was before, and once my make-up was done, I almost didn’t recognise myself.
I lift my chin and square my shoulders, inhaling deeply.
“This floor is where all the directors reside. The other nine floors contain the creative and product development teams, production and supply, merchandising, marketing and PR, e-commerce and retail operations, as well as HR. There’s also a large onsite cafeteria and a private atelier.”
We round the corner and find ourselves in a large open seating area. A woman sits at a desk facing several sofas placed by the large windows. There is a single office door leading off the space.
“Mrs Bianchi, I wasn’t expecting you,” a pregnant woman says, getting up from her desk and moving towards us.
“Callie, darling. How are you doing?” Sophia says warmly, pulling the young woman in for a hug. When she pulls back, she holds Callie’s upper arms, her head turning towards me. “Callie, let me introduce you to Brooke. She’s the daughter of an old friend of mine and is over from England.”
Callie looks over at me, offering an open and welcoming smile. I look carefully to detect any form of recognition. When I sense none, I return it with one of my own and let out a slow, silent breath.
Sophia continues. “We’re heading to HR. Brooke has an interview, but I thought we’d pop in and see Sandro before we do. Is he in?”
Despite her friendliness, Sophia’s commanding tone makes it clear that, although she no longer oversees St Clair, she still expects her rules to be followed.
Duly noted.
“He is,” she says, returning her attention to Sophia. “He’s conducting interviews today.”
Sophia inclines her head.
“For my replacement,” Callie says, her hand moving protectively to her stomach. A familiar gesture Leah used to make when pregnant with Callum. “I’m having to leave sooner than expected.”
“Sandro didn’t say anything,” Sophia says. Her eyes drop to Callie’s expanding waistline. “Is everything okay?”
“We only found out on Friday,” Callie explains, clearly trying to placate her. “I have gestational diabetes. The doctor has suggested, due to the symptoms I’ve been experiencing, that I take early maternity leave.”
“How are the interviews going?” Sophia asks, obviously not wanting to delve any further into her private business with me here.
Callie rolls her eyes before moving back towards her desk and pulling a face.
The two women share a look.
“That well?” Sophia says, checking her watch. “We’ll wait. Come on, Brooke.”
I follow as she leads me towards the comfortable-looking sofa, placed at a right angle to the window.
It overlooks the neighbouring office buildings, although the width of the Manhattan street beneath us makes that quite a distance.
Looking out, I notice that all the windows of the neighbouring buildings are tinted, so all I can see is the reflection of the building we’re in.
“Can I get you any tea or coffee?” Callie asks, moving towards us.
“We’re fine,” Sophia says, and I swallow against the dryness in my throat.
“So, what’s been wrong with the candidates so far?” Sophia asks, turning towards Callie.
“They’ve all been pitching their virtues. How they can improve his processes,” she says. “I’ve promised him a handover, and he wants to make it as easy as possible for me, but so far no one has stood out.”
Sophia chuckles. “He’s his father’s son. Likes to control every situation.”
I nearly choke on the air I’ve inhaled as she blames his father. It didn’t take me more than five minutes in her company to ascertain that Sophia herself likes to be in control. If his father is the same, I’m not sure I want to meet the industrious Alessandro Bianchi.
I drop my head, wishing we could simply visit HR and then get out of here.
I may have been bored over the weekend, but at least I didn’t feel like a sitting duck.
Yes, my disguise is good. Both Harvey and Kris’s friend and makeup artist, Tash, have done an amazing job, but there’s still that nagging doubt in my head.
Everything is new to me, which leaves me vulnerable to slip-ups.
Harper Frazer has never shied away from people or places, but Brooke Feldmann wants to hide in the corner and remain unnoticed.
“Brooke.” I look up with a start to find Callie smiling at me. “How long are you in New York?”
My eyes flick to Sophia before I pinch my wrist.
I smile back. “I don’t know yet. I have no fixed plans.”
Which is true. Who knows how long I’m going to be stuck in limbo, living another life?
“Welcome to New York. If you ever want any advice or information on where to go, I’m happy to help.”
“That’s really kind,” I say, appreciating her friendly demeanour.
In a different time and place, I get the feeling that Callie and I could become close friends.
But that’s not possible. Both The Seamstress and Sophia have made it quite clear.
I must keep my distance. The more people get to know me, the more likely I am to slip up.
Although I’d hope friends wouldn’t stitch me up.
I’ve learned the hard way that this isn’t always the case.
My cover is strong enough to survive casual curiosity, but a deep dive?
I break out in a cold sweat just thinking about it.
People are happy either to claim their fifteen minutes of fame or, if the price is right, to sell you out to the highest bidder.
It’s just part of life, something I’ve experienced firsthand as a Frazer.
We pause as a smartly dressed, middle-aged woman exits Alessandro’s office and turns back.
“Thank you for coming. Someone will be in touch,” a voice says, the depth and richness of its tone echoing through the space, raising the hairs on my arms.
The woman in question holds out her hand. “It was nice meeting you, Mr Bianchi.”
I’m not sure her tone matches her words, which makes me bite the inside of my lip to smother my smirk.
She’s probably thinking the same thing as I am. He can’t even be bothered to follow up himself.
But then he’s the boss. Maybe the personal touch isn’t his thing. I wonder if my brothers and sisters follow up after their interviews.
A hand appears, and they shake. Dark hair on a tanned wrist.
The woman nods in Callie’s direction before making a hasty retreat.
The man behind the voice appears, moving towards Callie’s desk.
“How did it go?” Callie asks once the woman is out of sight.
“Another one promising to make my day more efficient without knowing what I do.”
I’m surprised that his accent is British. I was expecting an American, especially after Sophia said she’s lived here for thirty years.
He runs a hand through dark, slightly wavy hair. It’s longer on top and shorter around the sides. He must be six-two, the same height as Gabe and Caleb. The breadth of his shoulders tells me he likes to work out.
Before I can take in anything else, he turns as if sensing us behind him.
“Mother?”
Sophia jumps up, stepping forward.
“Sandro, darling,” she says, pulling him in for a hug.
His eyes meet mine over her shoulder, and it’s like all the oxygen has been sucked from the room.
What the hell!
This man is imposing.
His hair is dark, although his temples are peppered with grey. A straight nose sits above a strong, wide jaw. Fine lines bracket deep-set, almond-shaped eyes beneath a low brow ridge. I’m expecting dark eyes, but instead I’m struck by piercing blue ones.
Sophia pulls back, as if sensing his attention is elsewhere. She turns towards me, her eyes shooting me a clear warning.
I stand and move forward, his eyes still locked on mine.