Harper
“Iwant every piece of dirt you can get on Cassie Harlin,” I shout into the security bullpen where Sadie is standing over the shoulder of a junior employee pointing to some bit of jumbled letters and numbers on a screen.
“What?” Sadie asks, a furrow forming between her brows.
“Get me everything on her. I want to know where she goes, who she sees, everything. I want to know the name of the guy who picks up her dog’s shit.”
I’m fuming, my chest heaves with each breath like I just finished a marathon.
Sadie gives me a once-over and then gives a quick, sharp nod as she straightens up.
“Clear the room.” She has never been loud, but when she wants to get a point across, she has never needed to be.
Her bubbly personality and demeanor make it even more shocking when she speaks with an authority that would take others years to master.
There is a stunned confusion, some awkward shifting of seats. “Now.” Sadie says, with a clap of her hands for emphasis, then starts making a shooing motion with her hands towards the door.
Senior and junior security analysts stand quickly from their seats and file out of the room one by one.
Sadie hasn’t moved, standing across from me in the bullpen, one hand on her hip and the other holding her up as she leans against the desk.
Our physical features have always been similar—her hair long, but a lighter shade of brown than my own.
Our genetics didn’t play favorites in many areas, but I have always been jealous of her eyes.
While mine can’t seem to pick a single shade, hers are like warm honey, softening her face and perpetually giving her an ethereal glow.
Despite how similar we look, you would never be able to tell we are sisters.
While I’m dressed head to toe in black, she’s wearing light yellow slacks with a light pink blouse tucked in and pointed pink flats.
And of course, I can’t forget the signature bow pinning some of her hair back.
I can’t see the color from here, but I can almost guarantee it’s happy.
Thank God she’s rarely on the floor.
From the stage floor and the patron’s perspective, the wood and glass-framed shelves that line the back of the bar are backed with a reflective mirror, decorated with a random display of alcohol bottles. It looks classy, elegant, and refined. And it’s all smoke and mirrors.
Literally.
Even I had to admit Sadie’s idea of a two-way mirror was brilliant.
The other side of the bar wall houses the security office bullpen.
A large rectangular room hidden from the public, and yet they can see everything that happens.
Facing the stage and bar top, the line of analyst’s workstations are outfitted with dual monitors, some tasked with keeping tabs on the stage itself, while others have a constant rotation of assigned tables to observe.
This is mostly work reserved for the junior analysts.
The senior analysts sit along the back wall, monitoring large, singular screens, each displaying a different private room.
There are also physical security guards who monitor backstage areas along with any entry or exit points.
The only places where there are no cameras and no guards are the bathrooms and showers.
And my office, of course.
On the days Cirque isn’t open to the public, only half the security staff are here. Since no one is needed to monitor patron activity, it’s more for the safety of the staff members.
Once the room has cleared out, Sadie finally relaxes her stance, the powerful coding guru morphing into mocking sister before my eyes.
“So why are you suddenly so interested in stalking Cassie Harlin?” Sadie lifts her brow in question.
“She’s hosting her event here. I should know everything about her. You’re the one always saying I need to be prepared for everything, right?” I can hear my pitch getting higher and higher with each word, but I can’t seem to stop. “Well, this is part of that,” I throw my hands towards her.
“Ohhhh, so this is my fault then?” Sadie crosses her arms over her chest. I know I’m being ridiculous, pacing back and forth from the entrance to where Sadie stands at the halfway point of the long corridor. I remember how Cassie looked at Colton and my skin feels itchy.
Tell me not to do it.
She may have requested him, but I have every right to tell her no. I don’t even need to tell her anything. Just pick a different dancer and move on from it. She probably doesn’t even remember him.
She had better not remember him.
And now, if I tell him not to do it, he will assume it’s because I’m…jealous.
I’m not jealous.
I’m not jealous.
I’m not jealous.
“Are you sure? Because it sure sounds like you are,” Sadie says, because apparently, I’m muttering to myself like a lunatic.
This is what he is doing to me. He’s making me crazy. I stop pacing and just lock eyes with my sister, chest heaving, shoulders tight.
“Oh wow, you’re fucked.” She’s still smiling, but now it’s tinged with genuine shock. Great, now she also thinks I’m jealous. I told her about Cassie’s request last night after closing, to which she laughed at my outrage.
“No, I’m not. It’s fine. I can handle this.
” I blow out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“I just need to get myself together. I never spend this much time with employees outside of work, and this is a good reminder why,” I nod my head like this is the key to all my troubles, add a little distance and the problem will resolve itself.
“Technically, you are still at work,” Sadie points out. My head whips up, and she puts up her hands in mock defense. “Sorry, sorry, not the right time. Got it.”
Sadie walks to where I’m standing. “I’ll see what I can find on her. Little Miss Perfect surely isn’t as squeaky clean as she wants everyone to think. Can I ask a question, though? Without you losing your shit?”
I just glare at her, and when she still doesn’t speak, I wave my hand at her in a let’s hear it then gesture.
“Does this have anything to do with your hot and heavy boxing session this morning? Big emphasis on hot, by the way.”
“Oh God,” I bury my head in my hands. Not thinking today could get any worse when it hits me, “Did the whole security team see?” I’m about to spiral. My entire reputation could be thrown away with a thirty-second interaction if my employees think I’m fucking around.
Thirty seconds that left me practically panting after him.
“Absolutely not. I’ve been privately monitoring all gym cameras from 5 A.M. to 9 A.M. on a closed circuit. It goes directly to my phone or station and isn’t available for anyone else to pick up.”
“Thank God.” The overwhelming wave of relief crashes over me, my shoulders coming down from where they were bunched at my ears, and closing my eyes as I try to settle my heartbeat.
“None of that, just Sadie is perfectly fine,” she quips, taking the opportunity to get one more barb in for good measure. I don’t really blame her. Our whole lives consisted of me taking care of her, so she must be eating this up.
I, on the other hand, am a jumble of emotions, grateful to my sister for her quick thinking and shame that she had a front-row seat watching me be played for a fool.
That has got to be what this is. It’s just fun for him, a little game to see if he can break the nefarious Harper Mathers. The thrill of fucking the boss.
A realization slaps me back into the moment.
“When did you start privately monitoring that room, Sadie?”
My sister doesn’t look sheepish, or even a little embarrassed at her blatant spying. Instead, she smiles even wider.
“Since the very first day he started showing up at 5 A.M. to work out with you.”
“To work out, not with me specifically,” I clarify.
“Sure,” she says in a singsong tone that confirms she doesn’t believe my words any more than I do.
“Well, since that day when I got a hundred text messages about how frustrating he was and how annoying his constant chatter was, I took a peek myself and it was like watching my own reality TV show,” she pauses to take a long dramatic sigh, like she’s been on the sidelines watching a romcom play out.
“And then your texts began to shift. You still complained about how annoying and frustrating he was, but you also started to casually mention him more and more. It went from Oh my God he’s so annoying to Can you believe Colton can’t drink black coffee?
Your texts to complain basically lost all their venom,” she sounds forlorn and wistful as she talks about me and Colton.
It’s the same look she gets when she watches Pride and Prejudice and that guy does the weird hand thing.
And then the look vanishes. “And thank goodness I was watching in case you did something stupid,” she admonishes, lightly pushing my shoulder.
“So, you do agree it’s stupid!” I fire back.
“No, not at all. But I’m sure you think it is. I think you should do it again, and often.”
“No,” my answer is immediate and curt. “And from now on you’re going to start just turning the camera off from five to nine instead of being a creeper, right?” I ask her, planting both hands on my hips.
“Why, what else are you guys going to do?” she asks, an evil little glint in her eyes and a predatory smile to match, as she pumps her eyebrows.
“Sadie!”
“Fine, fine. I’ll stop watching.”
I look into her eyes, trying to sense if she’s lying from her mannerisms. Unfortunately for me, Sadie’s always been great at lying, and even better about covering her tracks when she does. “Are you actually going to stop watching?”
“Absolutely not.”
“If you aren’t going to be helpful, I’ll just show myself out.” I turn to start walking back to the main door when she grabs my arm, hauling me back around to face her.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, but how exactly can I help here? You have a crush, babe. That doesn’t really sound like something I can help with.”
I have a crush. A stupid, annoying crush. On my employee. On my very handsome employee. Who will soon be up close and personal with someone who isn’t me.
“Okay, well, I don’t want it. He’s getting in my head, and I need it to go away. Like, now. How do I do that?”
“Easy. Go on a date.”
“Sadie, I can’t date him, I’m trying to not have a crush on him!”
“No, no, no. Not with him. Go on a date with some other guy. A solid distraction, since working out obviously isn’t taking the edge off.
I mean, maybe you don’t even have a crush, and you just need to get some,” she shrugs nonchalantly while I simultaneously gag.
I don’t want to hear my sister talking about me needing to get some.
“And how exactly am I supposed to go find some random man to go on a date with?”
She cocks her head to the side and stares at me like I have a hundred heads.
“Are you serious? You get hit on at least once a night, pick an idiot's name out of a hat and go on a date.”
“Okay, okay, I can do that. Ugh, annoying, but it will work. It’ll cure my crush, and I will get this frustration out of my system, and then it will be fine.” I’m talking to Sadie, but we both know I’m trying to convince myself it will work. I need it to work.
I thank my sister for her helpful, albeit awkward, advice and head to the exit.
“Oh, and Harper?” Sadie calls to my retreating form. “Don’t forget to enunciate. Your diction is shit!”
I flip her off over my shoulder as I open the door and face the reality of my situation.