Chapter three #2
Aiden doesn’t know about our baby. I’d been planning on telling him, having only found out myself when he’d been away for two weeks on a business trip.
Keeping the knowledge from him was torture, but I’d wanted to see his expression when I told him our news.
Now, I will never get the opportunity. Not that he will want our child; he has his family already.
I lift the brush and untangle my disheveled hair. It’s a laborious task, but Aiden never wanted me to cut it. He loved how feminine it is. He can’t fucking stop me from cutting it now. Not that he cares.
I was sitting on the plane when the realization hit.
Aiden kept me on tap but never made any effort.
Yes, he looked after me financially, but emotionally I’ve been lost for years.
The way my heart used to lift when he called.
The way I would hang on his every word for his approval.
My new knowledge infuriates me—I’ve been no more than a call girl.
My youth has been wasted on a man who doesn’t love me.
My tamed hair is piled on top of my head and secured loosely with a pin.
Odd curls shoot off in obscure directions.
One hangs blatantly across my eyes, no matter how many times I push it behind my ear.
The black leggings hug my frame and sit flush against my stomach.
I don’t feel ready to share my news. My arrival is enough of a shock.
Resolving that I need to go and face Harrison again, I pull the blue cotton t-shirt over my head. In my bare feet, I pad out into the hallway and go in search of the kitchen.
Harrison is sitting on a bar stool at a sleek marble counter which sits on top of high glossy black units.
The kitchen and living space are open plan, with the cooking space only feet from where you watch television.
The whole area is monochrome—everything is black, white, or gray edged in chrome.
The same floor-to-ceiling windows look out over London below.
He glances up when he hears my footsteps.
“I thought you’d got lost,” he says with a smirk. “Good shower?” His voice is deep and husky as he speaks.
“Delightful. I could have stayed in there forever.”
His eyes darken. “I’d have had to come to find you. That may have been a dangerous situation.”
“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” I reply abruptly. His mouth drops open in disbelief. I’m taken aback by my own confidence. “Not that I’ve seen you since that day.”
Redness explodes at the base of his throat. He’s unbuttoned his crisp white shirt to expose the top of his chest. Tattoos peak out from the collar. His suit jacket is discarded over the back of the sofa. He wriggles uncomfortably in his chair and takes a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, Violet. What happened shouldn’t have. I took advantage of the situation. It shouldn’t have been me you had that experience with.”
“I wanted to have it with you.”
He goes to reply as the door to the apartment bursts open.
My two brothers storm into the room, shouting nonsense at each other.
Harry stands, stepping between me and them.
If you didn’t know they weren’t related to him, you’d assume they were all brothers.
All are similar in stature, with dark hair and shrewd eyes.
“So, it’s fucking true!” my oldest brother Russell hollers.
“The little harlot is back from across the pond. Have you run out of married men to fuck?”
I recoil from the comment, throwing my hands to my mouth.
“Get out, you’re not wanted here.” He steps toward me, and Harry moves in front of him, placing a hand on his chest.
Russell glares at him, furious at the obstruction.
“Hear her out,” Harry says, his eyes focused on my brother, who looks ready to explode. “Things haven’t been what we thought they were.” Connor stands at the back watching the situation unfold, assessing as he always does before making his move.
“Get out my fucking way, Waite. I want to hug my sister.” Russell grins menacingly. “I want to crush her, like she did our mother.”
“If you think I’m letting you near her when you’re pissed and irate, you don’t know me well enough. Go home, sober up, and we can talk in the morning. Violet can stay here tonight. Then we can discuss what’s happened when everyone is fully awake and lucid tomorrow.”
“She already keeping your bed warm?” Russell sneers. Harry’s jaw tightens but he doesn’t respond, simply stares the other man down.
“Come on, Russ,” Connor says from the other side of the room.
“Let’s go and get some shut-eye. Or I can give Leila a call if you need some relief? We can deal with our errant sister tomorrow. Waite has it under control for tonight.”
He looks from me to Harry, then nods. The men make a silent agreement to get my mountain of a brother, who is ready to detonate, out of the room.
“Come on bro,” Connor says again. With a final scowl, Russell turns and follows him out of the apartment.
Once again, my emotions rush to the surface. I whimper pathetically as Harry turns to face me. “It will be all right,” he says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
"How did they get in here?” I ask.
“For safety, we all have access to each other’s apartments,” he tells me. “That arrangement can have its downsides.” He flashes me a cheeky smile. “Are you hungry?” I shake my head. “Bed for you then. Everything can be dealt with in the morning.”