Chapter Nine #2
It was then that I felt confident in saying he bought it because I’d mentioned it in Vegas sometime. Because he had to pause to pull off the safety seal before he used it.
I stood there struck momentarily silent as I watched the man roll up his damn sleeves all sluttily before finishing making my drink.
“You’re not having one?” I asked when he brought it back to me.
“I don’t drink that much coffee during my workday.”
“Did you put in a coffee bar for me?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. Because that would be kind of creepy.
“Of course not,” he said, making his way back toward his desk. “I have many guests who like coffee. The coffee syrups are for you, though.”
“Dude, come on,” I said, shaking my head at him. “You see how crazy that is, right?”
The stupid coffee smelled annoyingly divine. A tentative sip told me he’d made it perfectly, too.
“Why is that crazy? Of course I’d want you to have coffee the way you like it when you stop by.”
“Why would I stop by?”
To that, he waved a hand at me, a little smirk toying with his lips.
“That’s different!”
“Is it?”
God, I felt suddenly drained.
I dropped down in one of the guest seats.
“I’m here to get my annulment.”
“I see that,” he agreed, moving the folder to the edge of his desk.
“Come on, Harrison. I gave you a couple of days to really think about it.”
“You did,” he confirmed.
“And talk to your lawyers.”
“I had that conversation, yes.”
“They have to be pissed.”
“Well, I pay a hefty retainer,” he said, his smile a little boyish, “so they can’t really be pissed at me.”
“Concerned, then.”
“They were that.”
“Did you show them the paperwork?”
“I did not.”
“Why not? It would ease their minds.”
“I imagine it would.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“So you’ve said.”
“God, were you this laconic in Vegas?” I grumbled. Then took a few sips of the perfect coffee.
“You did that in Vegas too,” he said, leaning back in his seat with that damn charming smile on his stupid, handsome face.
“Did what?”
“Tossed out an SAT word in the middle of a normal conversation. Even drunk.”
“I have two aunts and a cousin who are librarians.”
“Peyton, Reese, and Luna.”
“Have you been stalking me?”
“You told me,” he said, shrugging off my alarm. “Luna is Reese’s daughter. Reese is married to your Uncle Cyrus. Who isn’t your uncle by blood. In fact, none of your family is by blood. It’s by… club?”
He was right about that.
My father was a biker. His club, its members, and their wives and children made up most of my family.
God, how much had I told him about them? Because, well, the biker club wasn’t exactly on the right side of the law. And while I had aunts who were perfectly normal things like librarians and beauticians and housewives, I had others who were hackers and other less-than-legal things.
“Layna,” he said, his voice soft again.
“What?”
“Why are you panicking?”
“I’m not.”
“You’re about to break that cup.”
My hands hurt from clutching it so hard. I forced my fingers to relax.
“Anything I told you about my family—”
“I don’t care what your family does or doesn’t do.”
The way he said that made me think I’d definitely spilled at least some of the beans on them.
Now I really was going to have to tell the whole family about my little mistake.
“Well, if you would just sign the damn papers, you don’t have to worry about my family at all.”
“Are you feeling better?”
“I’m fine,” I snapped.
“You seem stressed.”
“Because I want a divorce, and you won’t give it to me.”
“Have you eaten anything today?”
“Food isn’t going to make me forget that you’re holding my freedom hostage.”
“No, but you do seem to be calmer when you’ve eaten.”
“I’m calm. I’m perfectly calm.”
I was about to crawl out of my skin.
“You’re keeping yourself still because you’re worried about what Madison might be seeing,” he clarified.
“Who has a glass office? Don’t you ever want privacy?”
“How do you feel about Italian?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Your stomach just growled.”
“That was just… indigestion. You’re giving me a stress ulcer.”
“In that case—” he said, hitting the call button that had Madison immediately moving out from behind her desk.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my spine stiffening.
“Madison, would you see to setting up Layna with a full spa day?”
“What?” I asked.
“Full-service,” he clarified.
“Of course.”
“I don’t—”
“Within the next hour.”
“I will arrange it,” Madison said, nodding, then let herself back out of the room.
The frantic way she reached for her phone and typed on her computer told me that this was a big ask and was going to require some wand-waving.
“I don’t want a spa day.”
“You just admitted you’re stressed.”
“And the one way to remove my stress is to sign the papers.”
“How about we discuss the papers,” he said, biting off that last word, “this evening. After your spa visit.”
“Why can’t we—”
There was a small beep from the intercom on his desk, making his head turn to glance toward the waiting room.
“I would rather talk to you, but I have a meeting,” he explained.
My gaze followed his, finding a very serious group of three men and a woman (all in their fancy suits with briefcases in hand) standing at Madison’s desk.
I might want an expedited divorce, but I didn’t actually want to screw with his business. Especially since, clearly, dozens (if not hundreds) of people relied on him for a paycheck.
“Fine,” I grumbled, chugging my coffee, placing the mug on his desk, then getting to my feet.
By the time I did, Harrison had his sleeves down and his jacket back on.
“Madison will text you the details about the spa.”
“How does she… never mind,” I said, sighing.
He had my number.
Of course he did.
He seemed to know everything about me. And I knew so little about him.
Maybe I should spend my afternoon figuring out as much as I could about the man I was now married to for the next few weeks or months.
Harrison went to the door, opening it for me. But we walked out as a pair. I wasn’t sure if he synced his step to mine or if I’d done mine to his subconsciously. Either way, we arrived at the group at the same time.
“Lila, Marcus, Ed, Elliot,” he greeted them, offering his hand to each.
“Harrison,” Marcus greeted.
His gaze cut toward me.
“Oh, of course. This is Layna,” Harrison said, his hand going to my lower back. “My wife.”
I didn’t know who was more shocked, his associates or me.
Because while I could see him talking to his subordinates about me, it felt crazy for him to introduce me to business partners. Especially knowing I was doing everything in my power to dissolve this absurd relationship.
The men’s gazes went to my face; the woman’s, to my hand.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said, my voice tight. “I’ll… let you get to it,” I added, stepping out of Harrison’s hold.
“I’ll see you later,” Harrison said.
“Uh… yeah,” I replied as I moved into the elevator.
What the hell was that?
Before I could even wrap my head around it, though, I was walking through the lobby again, and my phone was dinging with my spa reservations.
“Mrs. Valentine?” a voice asked once I stepped outside.
I was really starting to dread people using my name. Each time someone did, it was a new situation that felt like it knocked the world off its axis.
“Yeah?” I asked, turning to see a man in a black suit standing near the curb.
“I’m John. Your driver.”
Of course he was.