5. Harper
HARPER
Iwas at the Northwell offices looking for Rowan when Elliot found me. He wore a rich navy suit that brought out his eyes, and his dirty-blonde hair, always looking artfully messy, made me want to be the one running my fingers through it.
Taking a deep breath, I kept walking toward Rowan’s office. His door was within view when Elliot caught up to me. “Are you trying to avoid me, Harper?”
I stopped and turned to him with a practiced smile.
Not that I didn't want to be near Elliot or that I didn’t like him; I simply didn’t trust myself around him.
Our one night together had kept me warm on plenty of chilly nights and rivaled several of my favorite romance book scenes.
After seeing him for the first time in a year, I had to go home and use my trusty vibrator just to clear the tension out of my system so I could focus on work.
Elliot stepped in close, far past any line deemed professional. His clean, masculine scent hit me all at once, requiring every ounce of self-control for me to avoid visibly inhaling like a horny teenager.
I must be ovulating.
“Elliot,” I said, my voice cracking slightly, a slip that instantly brought a devious grin to his face. Before continuing, I cleared my throat. “I am not avoiding you. There was no reason for me to see you in person today. I do, though, require a few items from Rowan.
Elliot smirked, stepping even closer. “There’s nothing Rowan can do for you I can’t do better.”
It took all my restraint not to roll my eyes.
This was exactly why I couldn’t give in to the attraction between us and had to maintain a strict boundary.
I’d looked into Elliot after my session with the vibrator and catching up on work.
He was the quintessential playboy billionaire, rarely seen with the same woman twice, with a rumored black book full of willing late-night calls.
I wasn’t that kind of woman, regardless of how we’d met.
Digging into his file and public background made it glaringly obvious why he’d earned that reputation.
I sighed. “Is there something specific you need?”
“Yes,” he replied with that signature cocky smirk.
I fought the urge to shift on my feet. The man was like catnip, and I desperately needed distance. But I also knew Elliot likely thrived on the thrill of the chase. Was that what this was?
“I need you,” he continued.
My mind had briefly drifted, but his words snapped my focus right back to him. “Me?”
Elliot ran a hand through his hair before sliding his hands into his trouser pockets. “Northwell has a table at an upcoming charity gala, and I want you to go with me.”
I knew about the event. I had a comprehensive list of social obligations for all four Northwell executives, plus the North brother who seemed to be everywhere despite having no defined role. Maybe I need to interview Theo next.
Attending the gala with Elliot actually made strategic sense. I could observe them all in a high-society setting and get a clearer sense of what needed fixing to reshape their public perception.
“For work?” I asked.
Elliot flashed a dazzling smile, giving a light shrug. “Sure.”
“Elliot,” I groaned. Something about this man completely undid my composure. “We need to keep this professional.”
He took another step forward, forcing me to tilt my head up to meet his gaze despite my heels. Mischief sparkled in his eyes. “Why?”
I smoothed my hands down the length of my blazer, anchoring myself to set the right tone. “Because I’m here to rebuild your image, and adding another woman to your roster isn’t a strategy I’d recommend.”
A flicker of what looked like genuine hurt crossed his face before he quickly masked it behind another grin. Does he always use charm to deflect when things get real?
“What if it were a one-woman roster?” he asked.
I nearly laughed. Was he seriously hinting at exclusivity? I doubted he even knew the definition of the word. Still, he wasn't wrong on the concept; stopping the revolving door of women and settling down with someone steady was precisely the move needed to shift public opinion.
Stepping back to reclaim some personal space, I replied, “That would be a solid start toward cleaning up your image.”
Elliot’s smile softened. “I’m glad you agree.”
I nodded, but when that familiar glint returned to his eyes, a spike of nervousness hit me. What exactly does he think I just agreed to?
Before I could probe further, the door to Rowan’s office swung open, and a petite woman with olive skin and wavy black hair stepped out.
She was gorgeous, though her beauty seemed to be intentionally downplayed by her wearing minimal makeup, an oversized black sweater, and matching trousers.
Her head was down as she walked toward us, pulling her dark hair back into a loose, messy bun, nearly colliding with us.
Elliot extended an arm to shield me from the crash, and she stopped short. A faint blush crept into her cheeks as she looked up. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Vale. I didn’t see you there.”
Elliot shifted closer to my side. “Maybe I should tell Rowan to take it easy on you, Sofia. You look flustered. Is he working you too hard?”
Her blush deepened. I couldn't tell if Rowan was sleeping with her or if this was an unrequited crush on her boss, but I filed it away for further observation.
“No... I’m sorry, Mr. Vale,” Sofia murmured. “I was just lost in thought.”
Elliot chuckled softly. “Will you be joining us at the gala this weekend?”
The color drained from her face instantly. She shook her head, offered a quiet, firm refusal, and quickly excused herself down the corridor.
Elliot’s phone chimed, and he pulled it out before I could ask what was going on between them.
“I’ve got a meeting to get to,” he said, looking up from the screen, “but we’re continuing this conversation later.”
Reaching out, he gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear before turning on his heel.
I took a steadying breath, stepped up to Rowan’s door, and knocked.
“Come in,” came a sharp, clipped voice.
Stepping inside, the atmosphere hit me immediately. Rowan’s space was dim, guarded, and dominated by wall-mounted monitors, unlike the other partners’ offices, which had floor-to-ceiling glass and natural light.
Rowan sat behind his desk with a laptop open. Without glancing up, he noted, “I was expecting you earlier.”
I walked over and took the leather armchair across from him. “And what would I have interrupted if I’d walked in earlier?”
I knew most people found Rowan Black intimidating, but I had a job to do. If Rowan was sleeping with a direct subordinate in his office, especially given the corporate power dynamic, it posed a massive PR risk that I needed to manage.
Rowan didn’t offer a verbal reply. He simply shut his laptop, leaned back, and leveled a cool, unreadable gaze at me. After a long beat of tense silence, I broke it with a sigh.
“I ran into Sofia on my way in.”
Rowan looked away, clearing his throat as he picked up a tablet on his desk. “Ms. Cruz is none of your concern.”
Right then.
I exhaled slowly. These men were going to test every ounce of my patience. “Rowan, she is my concern if you’re involved with her. The media will tear this company apart if word gets out that you’re...”
His sharp gaze snapped back to mine, cutting me off instantly. “She is not your concern, nor is she the media's.”
“She becomes my problem if…”
“What did you want to meet about, Harper?” he interrupted abruptly, shutting down the topic.
Sofia Cruz was clearly a sensitive subject for him, but I’d definitely need to keep tabs on the situation to safeguard their brand.
My phone buzzed repeatedly in my blazer pocket, but I ignored it while handing Rowan the documentation I’d prepared. While he scanned the pages, I slipped my phone out to see who was blowing it up.
Elliot.
Since I’d literally just left him and knew he was supposed to be in a meeting, I put the phone away and returned my focus to Rowan.
We spent the next twenty minutes ironing out the specific data and security clearances I needed. Rowan denied direct access to their internal servers, but assured me Sofia would follow up with the requested records.
I was sitting behind the wheel of my Range Rover, waiting for the heater to kick in on the chilly afternoon when I remembered Elliot’s text trail.
Opening the thread, I burst out laughing at the barrage on my screen.
Elliot:
I enjoy being able to see you at work
Sorry, was that not professional?
Do you hate meetings that should have been emails?
Me too!
I think I need an assistant just to filter through the nonsense HR and Marketing book me for
I’ll send over the details for the gala
Do you want to send your address so I can pick you up, or should we pretend I don’t already know where you live?
So, are you seeing someone?
Never mind, not sure I want to know about your sugar daddies
Sugar daddies? I shook my head, smiling. If only he knew.
Scrolling down, I realized how much his private humour contrasted with his polished, untouchable public persona.
Should I send a dress?
Should we match?
The HR rep just gave me a glaring look because I’m looking at gowns instead of reviewing the presentation.
My fingers hovered over the keypad, trying to decide which line to address first. I settled on keeping it brief and focused.
Me:
Pick me up at six. I own plenty of formal gowns, so a new one isn't necessary, but thank you for the offer.
My screen lit up with an incoming call, and my smile softened when I saw my father’s name on the display. Placing the phone in its dashboard cradle, I connected the Bluetooth, answered the call, and pulled out of the parking garage into the afternoon traffic.
Working with the Northwell partners was going to be a wild ride, but one thing was certain: they would not make this easy.