Chapter 60
Harper
I stare. "You want me to be a partner in your restaurant business?"
"You’re already my wife. And my sous chef. You get a share of the profits from the business. It makes sense that you’re my partner."
He must be joking. But James never jokes when it comes to his business. He looks and sounds very serious.
"Our marriage is not real."
"What happened up there in my bedroom seemed very real to me.” His face hardens.
So, he noticed it, too. But I’m also befuddled by the events of the past few seconds. There’s a video out there, with a stranger claiming to know the reason why we got married.
Clearly, he did it for revenge, but it’s disconcerting that my private life is all over the internet.
What are my sister and niece going to say when they find out? And my friends? My blood pressure begins to skyrocket.
"It doesn’t negate the fact that I signed that agreement. And that everyone knows about the true state of our marriage now."
A trembling grips me.
What must the rest of the brigade think of me? Have I lost my credibility completely because of this?
Unable to meet his gaze, I look away.
He notches his knuckles under my chin. "I'll handle the team. As for the rest of the world? They'll forget us the second the next scandal drops."
His touch is gentle. But his words open up a fresh wound in my chest.
"Is that what we are now? A scandal."
I pull away, and he releases me.
And I miss his warmth. And that pisses me off. I’m in love with him. But it feels one-sided.
His forehead furrows. "That’s not what I meant."
"I know." I deflate a little. "It’s not just the shock of having our personal lives out in the open. It’s the fact that we started out that way that hurts me."
It’s the fact that the video makes it look like we betrayed the entire world, and that has shaken me.
He rubs the back of his neck. "I’m not going to apologize for suggesting the arrangement. If it weren't for that, we would never have come together."
"How do you know that?" I step back into the stool, trying to put more space between us. "Maybe we could have owned up to that video. Apologized. Maybe the investors would have accepted it, and we could have just—"
My throat closes.
I want to say fallen in love. I want to throw those words at him and watch what they do to his carefully controlled face.
He's been tender, yes. Careful with my body, and very generous. But he's never once said the word love in connection to us.
Maybe, it’s all one-sided. Maybe, this is just convenient sex for him?
I cross my arms over my chest and go with something else. "We could have just gotten to know each other better. Maybe we could have had a connection then, all those years ago, if you'd let it happen."
"There are an awful lot of maybes in that sentence." He clenches his jaw "I don't gamble with things that matter. And you matter to me. A lot.”
“You have a funny way of showing it.” The air leaves my lungs in a rush.
"You leveraged my desperation. You used your billions, and the fact that I'd have done almost anything—anything to be able to afford Freya’s education to make me agree to your marriage proposal.
" My voice cracks. "That was your strategy? "
"I didn’t see you complaining when you saw the money in your account."
I flinch.
His features instantly gentle. "Fuck. I’m an arse. I didn’t mean to say that."
"Yes, you did."
That wound in my chest grows deeper and seems to spread to the rest of my body.
"Not sure what I was expecting from you. Maybe the fact that you were so tender last night made me forget how heartless you actually are."
I’m in love with him.
Have been in love with him since I first saw him. I thought he was developing feelings for me, but it turns out, he’s still guarded. Still indifferent.
Still withholding his feelings for me.
His shoulders bunch.
I sense the tension ratchet up in the space between us, then he sighs. "I don’t want to fight with you. And I really am sorry I said that. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. In fact—" His phone vibrates again.
He answers the call, listens to it, then nods. "Thanks, Henrik.”
I turn to him, curiosity pinching at me even though I’m supposed to be angry with him. Also, I still care about The Edge.
"What happened?"
"He’s at the kitchen. There's a lot of speculation among the team about the video. We need to address it before more rumors circulate."
We’re in the kitchen of The Edge. It’s the pre-lunch preparation time. James called everyone in for a meeting as soon as we arrived.
The ghost of last night’s service lingers in the air.
A faint mineral trace of stock and char that clings to the extraction hoods no matter how hard they're scrubbed.
Traces of vinegar from yesterday's reductions, citrus zest, that particular damp-cold smell of a walk-in refrigerator opening and closing…
All of it coalesces with the buzz of anticipation among the staff.
The stoves haven’t yet fired up. So, the cold in the air sinks into my bones and makes me shiver. Or maybe, it’s the dread from what the reaction of the team is going to be when James talks to them about Sam Miller’s video.
James stands rigidly at the pass, his arms crossed. His stance portrays power. That he is the head of the kitchen.
The overhead fluorescent lights are harsh. They’re designed to pick out every imperfection in a sauce, every smear on a plate. The light feels particularly bright as I resist the urge to shield my eyes.
I stand next to James but have put some space between us.
I’m aware of the tension that radiates off of me, but I’m unable to get myself to calm down.
James claps his hands, thrice.
Instantly, the buzz of conversation among the team dies down.
"What Sam Miller did was a massive breach of privacy, not to mention, ethics. I want to state categorically that Harper and I are in love.” He looks around the faces of the team. “I asked her to marry me because I love her."
He turns to me and looks into my eyes. A chill runs over my skin. He sounds so convincing.
Even I believe him, and I know he’s only saying this to put rumors to rest among the team.
He’s not denying Sam’s claims. He’s also not agreeing to them. He’s sticking to the truth, as much as possible. Which is the right strategy.
"So, the marriage is real?" Mark’s voice cuts into the moment.
Both of us turn to face him.
James looks at me as if willing me to come closer to him, but I resist.
He clenches his jaw and turns to the team again. "It’s real. It’s been real for me since I first saw this woman five years ago."
A ripple of surprise runs though the team.
I’m taken aback, as well.
It’s not a secret that we have a history. But I haven’t spoken about it to the others.
“When I left the Marines, I was in a dark place. I’d lost my faith in what I thought was my calling. I was at a low point emotionally.”
He looks at me. His expression is somber and sincere, and tender.
“But Harper…she saved my life. The memories of the two of us walking the streets of London kept me going. She’d told me about her dream to be a chef. It made me revisit my love for cooking. She gave me hope. It’s why I’m here today. It’s why I started the Edge. It’s why all of you have jobs today.”
The sincerity in his words conveys the truth to me.
It’s reassuring to find out that he felt the connection between us that night too. It wasn’t my imagination. He was drawn to me on a deeper level that night, like I was to him.
He’s providing a glimpse of our shared history, of moments pivotal to both of us. Of the unspoken understanding we shared without being aware of it.
It lends credence to our marriage being real. If we knew each other from five years ago, it means ours is not an overnight relationship. It was one five years in the making.
It’s a master class in getting the team to believe in what we mean to each other.
"Is that true?" Mark turns to me.
"It’s true. He’s my best friend’s brother. We ran into each other in a night club five years ago." I raise a shoulder. "We never met again or kept in touch. But neither of us forgot the other."
It’s all true. Except, he’s still guarded about his heart and his emotions.
Mark’s expression shows he’s not completely convinced.
Ollie, however, clasps his hands together. "I wouldn’t have thought James to be so romantic." Then he reddens. "Didn’t mean that in an insulting way at all."
"It didn’t insult me." James arches an eyebrow. "Maybe a little."
I shoot him a sideways glance. Was that… Did he attempt to crack a joke?
The rest of the team seems as stunned.
Then the line chef giggles.
It breaks the ice—literally. The team relaxes. I don’t. I’m too busy trying to understand why this man can’t share his feelings with me. Why, after making love to me in a way that communicated he cares for me, he’s unable to tell me so?
“So, you knew who she was when you saw her résumé and had me call her in to interview?” Henrik addresses his question to James.
There’s a thoughtful expression on his features.
“I did. But if you remember, it was you who picked out her profile from the thousands of applicants and brought it to my attention.”
“That’s true. But you didn’t tell me that you knew her already. It wouldn’t have mattered that you did, but the fact you didn’t…makes me wonder if you felt you were doing something wrong.”
Silence descends around the room.
That Henrik could ask the question with such confidence makes me re-evaluate my opinion of him.
He always defers to James, but he’s confident enough to ask the tough questions, which the rest of the team are probably thinking but haven’t asked.
I wonder if James will tell him off, but to my surprise, my husband gives the question his full attention. He lets a few seconds pass, indicating he’s getting his thoughts together.
Then he says, “A part of me was apprehensive about inviting her to interview; you’re right about that. But not for the reasons you think.”