19. Nineteen
Ipunch in Harlowe’s number, my fingers drumming on my desk as I wait for it to connect. Instead, it goes straight to voicemail.
“You have reached me. If you know, you know, so do the thing.” Her voicemail message brings a slight grin to my face with the absurdity of it, but the raspy voice is unmistakable.
“Lowe, it’s me. I need to talk to you.” I pause and glance around the pristine interior of my office, forming some kind of plan or message, or something that can give me direction. “Just call me.” I rattle off my personal number and end the call, feeling stupid and out of my element. I hate this.
“Fuck,” I breathe, dragging a hand across my face. Why couldn”t she have just picked up so I could ask her right then if he”s my kid or not? “Fuck!” I say with more intensity. I don”t want to feel helpless, waiting on some woman to change my life forever or put me out of this wretched misery of not knowing for sure. If Payton’s right and I can use this to save the Olympus image, I”ll need to reestablish control and direct this how I want it to go.
I pull up Instagram to see if she’s been active on socials, even if her phone is going straight to voicemail, and see her latest thirst trap that feels set just for me. Fucking noodles again. Her caramel skin is more on display than usual, her midriff showing above high-rise leggings along with one bare shoulder that her cropped shirt is falling off of. She makes a face I know only too well as she hollows out her cheeks, slurping up noodles from chopsticks held above a wok. It takes me straight back to when she sucked my cock just like that, taking me down her throat, making me come faster than I wanted, sending bolts of lightning up and down my spine. The dirty caption that must be meant for me? Something about fucking slurping. I can hear her sounds. I exit the app like it’s on fire, throwing my phone on the desk and bending at the waist, pushing my now pulsing, rock-hard cock down and groaning at the friction of even that motion because I can’t fucking do anything about it here at work.
“Goddammit!” I roar to my empty office.
I’m still pacing angrily around my office half an hour later when Weiss knocks softly and cracks the door.
“I just wanted to remind you of your lunch meeting in fifteen minutes. The Henderson project is on the docket, as is the restructuring of Milagro Inc. It’s just you with Javier and the directors leading the teams. Hayes and Payton won’t be in attendance.”
Finally. I could use the familiarity of doing what I do best to take my mind off of Harlowe. Milagro is being incorporated into our mining operations and will need top-down restructuring, something I can do in my sleep, so it’s just the project I need to refocus on what is important. If I’m not pushing the constant growth of Olympus, I’m at risk of being outpaced, outmatched, and outplayed by some other company looking to exploit any weakness they can find with us.
“You have the files for me to review?”
Weiss rolls her eyes and hands me a stack of folders. “You doubt my efficiency one more time and I’m calling in sick. I’ll let you deal with an admin from the pool downstairs for a day and you’ll be groveling at my feet to come back and make everything run smoothly again,” she says dryly.
“Have I given you a raise lately? You deserve it,” I tell her, knowing she’s probably already scheduled the meeting herself with HR and accounting for her annual raise. She doesn’t deem me fit for an answer as she leaves my office. This is one woman I need on my team and by my side in business.
My gut twists and a phantom thought escapes my locked vault, telling me there is another who may prove to be an even better asset, and possibly partner. If I can just convince her to answer me.
The meeting with Milagro Inc. went exactly how it should have, but finding Payton waiting for me in my office when I finish has the black clouds sailing right back into my clearing skies.
“What?” I ask, sliding into my chair and pulling a folder toward me to rifle through the contents.
“Any news on the daddy front?” he asks. “It’s been a week, and all I’ve seen are gossip blogs hounding Harlowe and making assumptions about her kid’s parentage. I thought you were going to do the right thing. Man up and take responsibility.”
“I’ve been a little busy here, running our multi-billion dollar international company, dealing with the continued fall out of our stocks and image hitting rock bottom, and leading our constant expansion,” I say, lack of patience clipping my tone.
Payton throws his hands up in the air and rolls his eyes. “Oh, the big CEO is so busy,” he mocks. “You have a fucking kid. I don’t care if you just found out, it’s time you owned it. At the very least be certain. Get Harlowe to admit it or get a paternity test. But you need to make that connection now before the media speculation gets worse.”
My frustrations boils over and I stand, leaning onto my desk and leveling Payton with a fuck off and die stare. “How would you feel if you were a model I’d fucked and sent on her merry way while I cut off all contact and made it impossible for her to tell me she was pregnant? Would you be happy to hear from me, now?”
Payton shudders. “Gross. Please don’t ever make me consider what it would be like to fuck you.”
“Grow up, you know what I mean,” I say, scrubbing my hands down my face and resettling into my chair. “She hates me. There’s no way she’s letting me in now.” From her refusal to take my calls and the glacial response I’ve received in person, it doesn”t look like I’ll have an in anytime soon.
“I hear you, even if I don’t like what you’re saying.” Payton sighs and leans back in his chair. “We can have the legal department handle this quickly and efficiently, if you want. They can force a paternity test, and you can sue for parental rights. It wouldn’t be pretty, but you’d get in.”
“That’s the last thing I want to do. Fuck, man. I don’t want to force Harlowe to do anything, especially not sue her for rights to her kid. If she doesn’t want me in the kid’s life, that’s her choice.”
Payton tilts his head and stares at me like I’ve just sprouted tentacles. “Did you just say something entirely too human and, for once, not egocentric?”
I contemplate throwing my Mont Blanc pen at him, but I like it too much. “I’m trying to reach out. I’ve left her messages,” I admit instead. “Let me do this my way before you get lawsuit happy. You of all people should want to avoid a domestic legal battle that would just be more bad press for Olympus.”
“For once, I’m not thinking about Olympus here. I just want you to do what’s right and honorable, no matter what it costs us.”
“I think hell just iced over,” I say, staring in shock at Payton, who has always put the company image, the bottom line, and what we’re capable of ahead of everything else. “This day is too fucking weird. Get out of my office so I can finish up for the day without you wreaking more havoc.”
“Use the patented Zander charm to win her over. You’ve had no trouble getting a woman to fall for you in the past. Why wouldn’t it work now?”
“Maybe because she saw what that got her the first time around,” I quip, returning to my stack of paperwork. I may jest, but the comment is far too real, and I’d rather not dig into that too deeply.
“Just do whatever you have to in order to get on a united front with her. Having gossip sites hyperbolizing about a potential relationship you once had, or coming up with possible reasons Harlowe has kept the kid from you all these years, doesn’t look good. It’ll get uglier the longer you wait. At the very least, fake it and play up a happy co-parenting rhetoric that will get the speculation off what is really happening.” Payton stands and walks to my office door. “And don’t wait. Turn the narrative now or you’ll never wrestle it back.” He pats the doorframe as he leaves and I’m left with his parting words and a hazy plan taking shape.
My mind is too far gone down the Harlowe rabbit hole to be of any use at work, so when the clock has inched closer to a decent quitting time, I’m already headed down the elevator to the garage. I slide into my car and palm my phone like I may have missed a call from Harlowe in the time it took me to get down here.
“Fuck it,” I mutter, starting the drive to her house, hoping she’ll be home mid-afternoon and not out doing who knows what. It”s important enough to have this conversation in person, and I want to have it now, so that’s what I’m going to do.
I’ve been thinking of ways to get Harlowe to see my side, treating the situation like any other business acquisition. I’m looking for the cracks in my opponent’s armor to use as handholds while I scale their defenses and present a perfectly planned solution just when they need it the most. I can go in, guns blazing, demanding that I meet the child I somehow fucked into existence, yet had no idea was a walking, talking little person until just a month ago. I can appeal to her need for stability and promise her the boy will have the best of everything, college paid for, a trust in his name, and maybe even financial security for her.
I shake my head at the stupid track my thoughts are going down. She would have been banging down my door, wanting financial assistance, if that was her endgame. Instead, she’s been cagey about the boy’s parentage even after he pinged my radar, not once looking for a handout. So, what does she want, and how can I use that desire to my advantage? The answer comes to me slowly, a mist-shrouded cityscape revealed as tendrils of fog roll away, exposing the very real brick and mortar colossus that was always there, yet undetectable until you reached its edges.
Oh, fuck me. I can’t. Not that. Despite my internal protests, I know with certainty what route I need to take, and it fucking kills me to admit that Payton had the right idea, and I knew it all along.
What pissed her off the most after our trip, despite knowing the score going into it? What has she brought up more than once at this point about the situation that fucked with her head? She wanted a fucking relationship. She wanted that happily ever after I never promised, but she could see so clearly. She wanted the forever, even I felt could have been ours, that had me running for the hills and blocking every chase route she could have attempted because it was too real.
So, how do I unfuck the situation I carefully removed myself from and let swirl down the drain? One. Fucking. Step. At a time.
“Goddammit, I have to get my woman back.”
When Harlowe pulls into her driveway, about fifteen minutes after I arrive, I’m ready to start this process. Ready to get through the cracks in her defenses and work my way into her life. She walks back down the driveway to stare at my car with fists on her hips, challenging me to make my move while I have a chance. Her face registers recognition, disbelief, and finally, resolution as I climb from the sleek electric car and walk up to meet her.
I’m mesmerized by the valkyrie that meets me in the driveway, dark eyes flashing in calculation. Her hair is in a messy bun on her head, no makeup on her stunning, flushed face, her body clad in tight workout clothes still stained with the sweat from her trip to the gym. Her body looks even more incredible like this and it takes everything I have not to walk right up to her, grab that amazing ass, and haul her up my body. She didn’t even try and still managed to have the advantage here, setting me back with her raw beauty and powerful presence that has me wanting to bow at her feet and beg her forgiveness.
“I tried calling.” My voice vibrates with promise and expectation. “I left you messages, but your voicemail box is full now, and you didn”t answer my texts,” I say, hands slightly raised in front of me like I’m approaching a skittish feral cat. She could bolt at any second before I can deploy the Trojan horse I’m hoping gets me into her guarded citadel of a life.
She smirks, the smile cruel. “How does it feel to be on the other side of the line when all you want is to have your calls and texts answered by someone and you can’t reach them?” She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her ample chest, covering the sports bra that is peeking out from under a light jacket. “I’m surprised you kept my number this time around after blocking me years ago. And since when does not answering a text or call mean you should just stop by?”
“I need to talk to you, Lowe. You owe me that, at the very least.”
She stalks toward me, anger narrowing her eyes like I”m the only thing she sees and she wants to destroy me.
“I owe you?” she repeats. “No.” She shakes her head and her look hardens. “I don”t owe you shit, and I never asked for anything from you,” she says for good measure, stabbing a finger into my chest. “When it was me trying to talk to you, you decided I wasn”t worth your time or energy, I wasn”t worth knowing. You cut me out of your life faster than you buy and sell businesses. It doesn’t matter what came of me after you had your fill.” She pushes her palms against my chest and shoves futilely with a frustrated wail before backing up a step when I don”t budge. “Why do you get to show up and demand an audience with me and get the outcome you want, now?” The words burst from her, a broken dam that can’t hold back the frustration, the uncertainty, the fear and loneliness she must have experienced after I cut her off.
My chest grows tight where her hands just were, shame walking cold fingers down my spine as it finally hits me what my rules have done to her. Possibly to countless other women. Selfishness has always felt so noble and good when I saw it through the lens of my own happiness and conquests.
“You don’t understand. I had to make the break,” I say, my words tense and strained with the horror of the wreckage I’ve left in my wake for years.
I knew I couldn’t let anything remain between us after the trip. It was agony, watching what that did to her, what I did to her, and having to keep a straight face, to lie to her and tell her she meant nothing to me. All I wanted was to scoop her into my lap, bury my face in her neck, and tell her we did have a forever because I would be hers until I took my last breath. But it was the truth when I told her the man she wanted didn’t exist outside of that island and I wasn’t good enough for her.
She laughs bitterly. “I understand just fine. You wanted to use me. You needed company so you wouldn’t get bored in paradise. You wanted a willing body to stick your cock in. You didn’t want anything other than a distraction from your life that was far more important than a relationship or a person. You may have sold me a beautiful lie, but I realized the truth of who you were fast enough. You became a completely different person on the flight home. No need to tell me what I do or don’t understand. I’m not stupid.”
We’re circling each other, predators evaluating weaknesses and looking for the right moment to make a killing blow. This isn”t going how I planned, and I have to get it back on track or this will have all been for nothing.
“I never said you were stupid, and I never lied to you. You don”t know me at all. And from how crazy you’re acting now, I may have dodged a bullet back then by doing what was necessary,” I fire back, spitting the words out like rapidly thrown knives to pierce her back as my self-perception crumbles around me. I realize my error of letting my anger lead as her eyes go wide. Fuck. That wasn’t the tactic I should have taken.
“Dodged a bullet?” she hisses. “You’re calling me crazy because I don’t like that you showed up at my house after five years, demanding I listen to you? Insisting that I owe you my time and you deserve my consideration when you blocked my number and sent your brother to escort me out of your office building when I tried to talk to you?” she scoffs. “Maybe I would have listened had you manned up and talked to me after that trip, but no, you cut me off and waited all these years to try to explain yourself. You’re still just an entitled rich boy who has no idea what it takes to be a man.”
She raises a hand between us, palm out to stop any rebuttals. I catch it in mine and step into her space, feeling her heat, both her anger that sparks and pops like a wildfire, and the feel of her body as it stumbles into mine. She yanks to pull away, but I don”t release her. I want to crush her against me, feel her body mold to mine, and crash my mouth down on hers, no matter how angry we are.
“You know exactly how much of a man I am,” I growl, low and dangerous, sensual heat pouring from us both even as she fights to keep her composure.
She sneers at me, not taking the bait. “Yes, I know what kind of man you are.” She gives me a cruel smile, eyes narrowing. “You’re a man who walls himself off from connection, who refuses to take responsibility, and runs as fast as he can from something good because it got under his skin.”
I growl in frustration and tip my head back, absently pulling her closer to me with a crushing insistence. When I lower my head and fix my eyes on her, I see a heat in her molten chocolate pools that makes me shiver in anticipation. This is the fighter I know. This is the walking temptation that puts fire in my blood.
“Finally, little Wildcat, something you got right,” I seethe, stepping even closer.
We’re chest to chest and she’s not moving away and my hands are on her waist now, holding her to me. She tips her head back to meet my eyes, her hands on my chest, gripping my shirt tightly instead of pushing me away as she breathes just as heavily.
“You did get under my skin,” I grit out. “You burrowed so deep it took years to pull you out, bit by bit. Do you know how often I still look around when I hear a laugh that sounds like yours, searching for you? Every time I smell coconuts, I think of your damn sunscreen and the feel of your skin under my fingers.” I close my eyes and feel a muscle in my jaw tic as I lean my face into hers, my nose against her cheek as my lips find her ear, and inhale her scent deeply. “You weren’t supposed to stick with me. You were a short-term investment, but you had long-term consequences,” I bite out quietly, anger coursing through the words in a shocking cascade of confession I never expected to reveal, not to her, or myself.
I pull back to watch as she schools the shock that widens her eyes and tries not to let me see. “I’m nobody’s short-term anything, Zander,” she spits right back at me, holding onto her own righteous anger. “I’m a forever investment, and my life isn”t yours to play with.” She twists free from my grip and steps back, out of my heat and the closeness that melded our bodies together. “It’s time for you to leave. There’s nothing for you here. No one you need to worry your pretty little head about.”
“Harlowe, he’s my son.” I hear the catch in my voice as I acknowledge what has to be the truth, speaking the words low and with a fair amount of pleading for her to give me this. “Let me be a part of his life and let me into yours. I’ll take care of everything, make sure he’s always provided for.” I make a dive off the course I set, going to what feels comfortable when I’m negotiating, and that’s upping the stakes to get the other party to agree to my terms.
She pauses to turn around slowly from her walk back up the drive. She levels me with the most serious I will fuck you up if you come for my child stare.
“He’s not your son. He’s mine, and I can provide for him just fine on my own. He doesn’t have a father, just a sperm donor that I made a mistake of letting close to me. You don”t have to concern yourself with me or Hendricks. Don’t worry, I don”t want anything from you, not your money, not your acknowledgment, and certainly not you wanting to play father now when it”s convenient for you.” The exhaustion and trepidation that coats her words gives them a low, sticky quality that will be impossible to wash clean. I can see the fire in her has gone out, and instead of feeling victorious, it takes it out of me, as well. Neither of us wants to be fighting in her driveway.
“I’m not done with you, Harlowe.” My words are a heated declaration rather than a threat. I will make her see reason, let me in and work with me, not against me. I follow her up the cracked concrete driveway until all that separates us is the threshold of the garage, the door hanging above us, a guillotine poised to sever all the threads weaving us together again.
She blinks quickly, her thick lashes sweeping over the dark circles below her warm chocolate eyes telling me how tired of this she is. “You’re five years too late, Zander.”
My heart clenches with her words and I feel the anger flood out of me, leaving just my desperation behind. My brain finally catches up, and I remember what my whole purpose was for coming here before I got caught up in fighting with her.
“It’s the right time to try again, Lowe. Differently this time. You and me. Not just for a weekend, or a few weeks. You and I both know we’re perfect together,” I say, reaching out a hand and letting my thumb skim her cheek. “I’ll be the man you need me to be. You’re all mine, Lowe. Forever, remember?” I say, going for broke, pulling out the most painful memory from the vault, the one that burns as I rip it free and throw it at her feet. It’s my heart that she stole and I had to cut out when I boarded the jet to come home. The very heart I locked away and vowed never to need again. Yet here it is, still beating solely for her, bruised and bloody as it may be.
I watch the shine of tears form in her eyes as she clicks the remote in her hand, sending the garage door trundling slowly down between us.
“You told me forever was a lie, Zander. You were never mine to have.”
I see the hitch of a sob part her lips when I have to lower my arm to avoid the door, and catch a stray tear streaking down her cheek as it obscures her face, erasing her body, and finally cuts us off completely.
“I’ll be here when you’re ready,” I say to the closed door, hoping she’s still just on the other side, listening.
That woman. She’s infuriating. She’s infatuating. She could be my most epic downfall.
It takes me several moments after her garage is shut to get my feet to move away. It takes longer to admit that she may have won this battle, but the war is still mine to win.