Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Harper
I’m running behind because I couldn’t find my damn purse. I could have sworn I left it at the table, but lo and behold, it somehow ended up in their office. Hudson thought he was being useful by moving it. Clearly not.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry I'm late!" I rush the words out as I find Gianna sitting at the bar. Alone. The place is nearly empty, a low-lit cocktail bar in West Hollywood with velvet booths and jazz playing soft enough that you forget it's there. Two espresso martinis sit in front of her, untouched.
She lights a cigarette and blows the smoke up into the air. Her nails are long and black. Sharp enough to draw blood. She taps the stool beside her.
"No problem, Harper. I can wait for you."
I hop up onto the barstool and take a sip of the drink. The caffeine of the espresso martini hits my bloodstream, and I feel the fog of the evening start to lift.
Her eyes aren't on my face. They're fixed on my left hand. On the diamond.
"Harper." She sets her cigarette down. "What is that monstrosity on your finger?"
I nearly spit my drink out.
"I'm engaged."
She tips her head back and laughs. Several of the staff glance over and immediately glance away.
"Not to Hudson, I hope."
"Why not? He loves me."
The laughter stops. Her eyes narrow into slits. She doesn't say a word. Not for an entire minute. I’m not sure why I’m even lying to her. If anyone might understand this whole set-up, it’s her.
"You don't love him back, though, do you?" she says finally. "Your heart is elsewhere. This life here—it's not what you want, is it?"
I glance down at the ring. The diamond catches the bar light and throws tiny rainbows across my knuckles. “How did you know?”
She grins. “I guess it’s intuition.”
A shiver runs down my spine. I’m not sure I believe her. Not knowing who she is and all the information she could find.
"It is what it is, Gianna. Sometimes in life, you just gotta suck it up."
She bites her red lip.
"No. That's what they tell us to believe, Harper. If you don't love him, don't marry him." She pauses. "Unless it's a deal you can't refuse."
My eyes snap to hers. Can this woman seriously read minds?
She laughs. "The latter. Got it." She mimes zipping her mouth shut. "I'll shut my mouth."
I rest my elbow on the bar. "So, what made you want cocktails with me at eleven on a Tuesday?"
She takes a breath. The playfulness drains from her face.
"I heard Hudson gave you the story to investigate. The one I requested."
I nod.
"I will do everything I can to find out what you need, Gianna. I promise."
"Can I trust you, Harper?" She holds my gaze. "You understand why I need this information."
"Your brother," I whisper.
Her jaw tenses. She stubs out her cigarette in the ashtray, not casually, violently, grinding it into the glass until there's nothing left. The knuckles on her hand go white.
"Yes. Max's death will be avenged. We won't lose our power here.
Not if I have anything to do with it." She reaches for the fresh cigarette she's already pulled from the pack.
Lights it. Steadies herself with the inhale.
"My father wants to go about it the old way.
The brutal way. Blood for blood, bullets for bullets.
I've told him to let me work the new way.
Gather the intel. Crush them from every angle and make us more powerful than ever before. "
I nod. I don’t like where this is going…
Her eyes darken. "Don't get me wrong. The end result stays the same. They will bleed into the streets for this. But I need to know what's got them so interested in your hometown? Why they're starting wars with cowboys?"
I open my mouth. Shut it. Can't stop myself. "Do you want what they have in Arizona?"
She shrugs. "I won’t know until I know what they have, Harper. I don't make silly business moves, only smart ones. Here, I manage the investments, the real estate, all of it. I know everything." She watches me through the smoke.
I straighten my spine. Does she know about my history with the Sterlings? Has she even caught on to them? How much of this friendly warmth is genuine, and how much is a woman who knows everything making sure I feel comfortable enough to be useful?
"There are powers much stronger than me in this world, Harper. I can't fight them. I know that. I need to know why the Greeks think they can."
I swallow. "Got it. I have some contacts."
She laughs. "Oh. I know."
She places her hand over mine. Her rings are cold against my skin. "I want to be your friend, Harper. I really do. Please don't let me down."
The threat underneath is wrapped in sweetness. I hear both.
"If anyone can find it out in New Falls, it's me."
She nods. Opens her black Chanel bag, pulls out a phone, and slides it across the bar.
"You can contact me this way, while you’re there."
I pick it up. Look down at her tattooed hand, still resting on the bar. A rose on her ring finger. A dagger on her wrist. A name in script along her forearm that I think is Max.
"So, am I actually writing a report? Or just investigating?" I ask. Because what Hudson told me and what Gianna is telling me are two completely different jobs.
"Let’s see. Maybe you’ll be able to write something that blows their empire to shreds.
After I approve it." She takes a drag and exhales slowly.
"And whatever Hudson is paying you a year, I'll give you twenty times that for this one job.
Give you enough to move back and buy your own ranch.
The intel goes through me first, and then we will give Hudson the story to publish.
Think of this as a joint venture, Harper. "
My mouth almost hits the bar. Can I take mafia money? Will I end up in jail? What if…
"I-I don't need—"
She holds up her hand. "I reward well, Harper. Get me what I need. And find out which one of those assholes they're hiding in New Falls that killed my brother. He's there. I know he is."
I suck in a breath. "Got it."
I can’t deny that this does excite me a little. This is the kind of investigation a criminal journalist lives for. This is one of the reasons I left New Falls. I thought it was too small for a story like this. Turns out I was wrong, and life was always leading me back there.
I’m looking for a murderer and organized crime dealings. If I took out the Ace complication, it would be epic.
She casually signals the bartender for another round. I won’t be drinking. One was enough.
"Now. Enough about work." She turns to me, tucking one leg underneath her on the stool. "Tell me about you, Harper."
And I do.
I tell her about growing up on the ranch.
About my horse, Penny, how Ace bought her for my eighteenth birthday with money he'd saved from his first rodeo winnings, and how leaving her behind when I moved to LA was the second-hardest goodbye I've ever made. But I leave out Ace’s name and just call him my ex.
I tell her about studying journalism. About the first time I saw the ocean and cried because it was so big and I felt so small.
She listens. She laughs. She asks questions that prove she's actually paying attention, not just waiting for her turn to speak.
By the end of the night, I've assessed her enough to know what I'm dealing with. Gianna Milano is a woman hurting. A woman running on grief, fury, and the relentless, burning need to make someone pay for taking her brother from her.
I understand that. More than she knows. I'd do the same for the people I love. I am doing the same.
I'll help her get what she needs. I'll keep the Sterlings safe. And if the money she's offering is real, then maybe I can stop for a moment and assess what I really want to do with my life next.
Is LA my home? Is this career really what I want to be doing?
Or maybe I need to go home. For real this time.
We hug goodbye on the sidewalk outside the bar. She smells of cigarette smoke and expensive perfume and something darker underneath, something that doesn't wash off.
"Safe travels tomorrow, cowgirl," she says, squeezing my arm. "And lose that ring before you go home. It doesn't suit you."
She's right. It doesn't.
I watch her Rolls-Royce pull away and stand alone on the sidewalk in the warm LA night.
My phone buzzes in my hand. The burner.
Gianna: Don't let me down, Harper. I don't give second chances. But I don't think I'll need to with you. <3
I tuck both phones into my bag and walk to my car.
Tomorrow, I fly home.