Zander
ten
By the time I’m finally ready to leave the Olympus International Tower, it’s well after dark.
I ask Weiss to send Javi into my office as soon as I leave my last meeting and then tell her to finish up for the evening since she’s been here longer than I have.
She just gives me a knowing look and a backward wave as she exits my office.
I can't believe I still haven't melted that woman’s iceberg exterior.
I have an idea that’s been percolating in my subconscious all day, despite everything else that is going on.
Probably not a good one, given the day of negotiations that didn’t go my way.
I had to fight with Hayes to up our offer for a deal that would replace Rosenthall, and I’m annoyed as fuck after dealing with that shifty bastard Rex only providing the barest information.
Besides that, Payton’s incessant need to hash out how we are going to fight back after we learned of the connection to Archer Donovan left me feeling drained.
Despite the work piling up and the team scrambling to pivot, I can’t stop thinking about running into Harlowe, of all people.
Why would we be thrown back together like that?
To have seen her photos on the Atlanta Haute List moments before the world conspired against me, literally crashing us into each other, just so we would be in the same place at the same time? Not fucking normal.
Neither is my irrational obsession with her all week, despite my insistence that I wouldn’t think about her again, and I couldn’t possibly have any attachments to her this long after.
I’m still obsessing about the time we spent together and how that could have changed my life as I know it, now that I’ve seen the photos of her son.
To make matters worse, I gave into my curiosity and looked up her Foulmouthed Foodie Instagram account, only to catch the fucking thirst trap she posted the same night I saw her.
Holy shit, did that one grab me by the balls.
Her glorious, feline smile as she took a bite of some delicious, creamy-looking pasta dish, her tits looking even more fucking delectable, slightly out of focus, just below the forkful of food.
Her caption was the kicker, my cock growing harder with every salaciously dirty word that tripped across my feed, saying creamy cacio is her favorite, and ending with loving yourself at every size.
It was a reminder that, yes, her body is different, and goddamn does it look so fucking good I could spend another two weeks eating her up and learning every new curve and how it fits against me.
I fisted my cock right then and came so quick and violently it felt like lightning snapped down my spine with the force of the ropes of cum that shot out of me.
I don't know the last time I jacked off to a photo on the internet, one that was safe to post to a social media feed, at that.
I need to see Harlowe. I have to talk to her. It’s a thought that has never crossed my mind about any woman who has been in my bed, and that breaks the rules, but so does possibly having a connection with her that stuck around longer than I did.
I retreat to my office and pace behind my desk.
There’s way too much at stake and going on in my professional world and the stress from my personal life is only adding to the mix, given the fucking bombshell that I’m pretty damn sure I have a kid and Harlowe doesn’t want me to know anything about him.
“You wanted to see me?” Javi says as he enters my office without a knock. Thank fuck that didn’t take long.
“I need whatever information you have on her,” I say, hand outstretched for good measure.
Javi takes a seat across from me and pulls out his phone. “I’m going to take a flying leap and assume you mean Harlowe Sorenson.” He taps his phone screen and scrolls a bit.
“Of course, that’s who I mean. I give you the credit you deserve for your intelligence and aptitude to connect the dots. No need to rub it in,” I gripe.
“Touchy about this one, are we? Sending a photo of her insurance documents and her contact card now. Don't say I never do anything for you. I follow your crazy ass out of perfectly good planes and give you contact information I’m pretty sure you normally wouldn’t want.” He gives me a knowing look.
My phone vibrates on my desk and I immediately snatch it up. “Thanks,” I say, already saving the contact. “Have you sent her your insurance info yet?”
Javi rubs the back of his neck. “We’ve had a lot going on the last couple of days. It sort of slipped my mind. I should send it right now.” He swipes his screen open again and starts tapping.
“Don’t bother. Send it to me instead.” Possibilities are rushing through my mind, concocting scenarios and evaluating risks. If I see Harlowe, I need an excuse. This could be it.
Javi pauses and looks at me hard before shaking his head in deference.
“Okay, but can I also offer some words of unsolicited advice?” When I don’t stop him, he continues.
“Maybe don’t show up unexpectedly. Give her the heads up I know you yourself would want.
Connect with her and create a rapport before you spring your obnoxiously big ego on her after however long it’s been.
You seem to have a history, and that alone is unusual for you. ”
I cock my head and consider his words for a moment and finally nod.
He’s intuitive, catching on to far more than I’ve said.
He knows my normal patterns with women, and yet he’s read into the quick interaction from Monday that there was something very not normal about the situation with Harlowe.
I hate that he’s that perceptive when it comes to my personal life, but that’s why he’s my SVP.
It doesn't mean I’ll actually take his advice, but I appreciate it nonetheless.
I point a finger at him. “You think on the next level and have my back, even when I’m not looking for it.”
Javi gives me a crooked grin and stands from the chair.
“I think that’s one of a handful of true compliments you’ve given me, and with that, I’m out of here before you ruin it by saying something shitty.
Good night, man. Be careful.” His backward wave as he strides through the door is enough to get me to crack a smile.
The smile fades when I realize once again I’m about to break one of my steadfast rules: don’t contact anyone you’ve already fucked.
That’s how things get messy. That’s when attachments form and expectations spring up.
I’m not relationship material, and I never let anyone consider the idea because I’m out of their life too fast. But if I keep after Harlowe like this, whether or not she wants it, there will be a problem. I know this for a fact.
Harlowe was trouble from the start, and we both knew it.
And yet, here I am, going against my better judgment. I grab my suit jacket and leave the building without another thought to my own rules.
I’m already pulling up the message from Javi with her insurance card as I slide into my sleek, vapor gray Karma SC2 electric car, knowing I’m crossing so many lines by typing it into my GPS and starting the drive to her home.
I know there’s a process I should take, a better road to conversations with her about the kid who could very well be mine, but the only path I’ve ever taken has been the hard one I found for myself.
I’m treading on unknown terrain with baggage that wants to take me down, but I’m starting the trek, anyway.
I’ve scaled actual mountains. How hard can this be?
Harlowe lives a ways from downtown, but still in Atlanta proper, and it’s strange rolling through the very suburban neighborhood when I normally stick to the highrises of downtown.
I know I can't just walk up to the door and expect her to let me in for a chat, so I pillage more of her information from Javi’s message and dial her number.
I’m surprised she answers an unknown number, even one with a local area code.
“Hello?” Her husky rasp floods me with a sense of nostalgia that shouldn't exist, and it takes me a moment to reply.
“Hey.” I swallow. “Lowe, it’s me.” My voice is low and casual, not disclosing the internal turmoil as my brain screams warnings about how bad this could be.
My heart is pounding a rapid staccato beat in my chest, expecting her to hang up on me.
The adrenaline rush of the situation keeps me on the line, feeling each roar of my spiked pulse like a drug.
Rush. Rush. Rush. Mine. Mine. Mine. She gets me so fucking high, and I’ve only heard her voice.
Seeing her will send me to the fucking moon.
I won’t need to jump out of another plane for years if I keep this up.
Her sharp intake of breath is clear through the line before she slowly says, “Zander?”
“I’m at your house. I have Javi’s insurance card for you.
” I use the last-minute excuse I created for what brought me to her home after dark.
I clench my jaw, knowing she won’t buy it any more than I can sell it, and that’s saying something, given I have built a world-class business based on how I can sell a vision.
She chuckles softly, but the sound holds no mirth. She’s laughing at me. Fuck.
“Your audacity knows no bounds. Javier could have sent me a photo of his insurance card like he said he would, yet here you are, skulking outside my house, using it as an excuse to be there because you think you have the right to everyone else’s time and attention, you pompous ass.”
She saw right through me and fucking called me out like I’m nothing. I tip my head back against the seat and close my eyes. I don't want to fight with her, not when there’s so much on the line. “You’re right,” I grit out, leaving it at that. She doesn’t need to know how on the money she is.
“Oh, wow! Well, that’s new. I didn't know you could ever admit defeat,” she says, the warmth of her voice soothing despite the words that needle at me. “Why are you here, Zander?”