7. Elliot
ELLIOT
The elevator ride up to my penthouse was quiet.
Harper stood beside me with one hand loosely wrapped around her clutch, the cream silk of her dress catching the low light every time the elevator shifted.
Her reflection stared back at us in the mirrored walls, all cool elegance and expensive restraint.
I should probably stop looking at her as if she were a problem I was trying to solve.
I didn’t.
“You’re staring again,” she said without looking at me.
Fuck…
“I’m… assessing.” I lied.
“That sounds suspiciously close to my job description.”
“But I’m much prettier doing it,” I replied with a shrug and then doubled down with a wink.
Her mouth twitched, and I had to restrain the urge to celebrate.
The elevator opened directly into the penthouse, and the city sprawled beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows in glittering gold and white. Most people reacted when they first walked in, but Harper didn’t.
She stepped inside slowly; her gaze moving over the space with observation rather than awe. Black marble. Glass. Steel. Clean lines. Expensive art, I mostly forgot existed unless someone commented on it.
“You look disappointed,” I said, loosening my bow tie.
“I’m not disappointed.” She said, but her tone suggested otherwise.
Why did that bother me so much?
“You’re not impressed either.”
She set her clutch on the kitchen island. “Should I be?”
“Yes.”
“That feels emotionally expensive.”
“What does?” I asked, holding my breath.
She turned to me, the cream-coloured silk looking like champagne, framed by the city glowing behind her. “Caring what everyone thinks about how you live.” She said without an ounce of humour.
I laughed under my breath to hide the direct hit, it felt like I had just taken and walked toward the bar. “Drink?”
“Water.”
I looked over my shoulder. “You are ruining my fantasy of bringing a beautiful woman home after a gala.”
Harper shook her head and turned back to the view. “I am not naive enough to think I am the first woman you brought home after an event and you invited me for work.”
“Right.” I said, my eyes trailing down her body, “Massive oversight on my part.”
I poured myself a scotch and grabbed her water, then walked over to where she was standing and handed her the bottle. I watched her move, watched her take the bottle from me. Every movement looked rehearsed and deliberate.
God, she was so fucking composed. It made me want to create problems.
Fuck, is that how Theo felt about Julian all the time…But she wasn’t Julian… She was something else altogether. Something familiar, and yet so foreign.
Harper moved toward the windows, heels quiet against the hardwood.
The skyline reflected behind her, Chicago glowing around her as if the city had dressed itself up for her personally.
She looked angelic. Her eyes met mine in the glass's reflection, a question there I wasn’t sure if she was going to ask.
“What?” I asked.
She turned, her eyes trailing over the skyline and then the open-concept living space. “You live very high up.”
“That sounded judgmental.” And it kind of pissed me off.
“It was observational.” She argued.
“Dangerous distinction around you,” I replied, feeling defensive.
She smiled faintly, then turned back toward the view. “You all live like this?”
I was confused for a second, but then remembered the reason she thought she was here.
“The guys?” I asked.
She nodded.
“More or less.” I answered.
She turned to me, saying, “And you all turned out emotionally dysfunctional, anyway. Fascinating.”
I barked out a laugh. “Jesus, Harper.”
“What?” she questioned.
“You say things like a therapist wielding an unlicensed scalpel,” I replied and took a healthy swig of my drink.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She said with a shrug.
I moved closer, leaning against the island. “Alright, Dr. Lane. Give me the damage report.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you really ready for my professional opinion?”
“I paid for the gala. Feels fair.” I said, emptying the glass… fuck, maybe I should have grabbed the bottle.
“You didn’t pay for the gala.” She gave me a quick retort that had me reaching to refill my glass.
“I paid for something there. Probably several things.” I shrugged.
She shook her head as if I had exhausted her already. Why did I find that cute?
Harper crossed one ankle over the other and considered me for a moment before speaking.
“Rowan is sleeping with someone he works with.”
I blinked; that is not what I expected her to say. “Excuse me?”
“He’s either emotionally attached to Sofia Cruz, or sexually. Possibly both.”
I stared at her, mouth open, before I remembered to close it and ask, “How the fuck would you know that?”
“Because every time another woman touched him, he looked mildly murderous.”
“That’s not evidence.” I replied, still trying to play catch-up in a game I was not familiar with.
“It is when he only became fully alert anytime his phone buzzed.”
Huh.
“And I’ve noticed the women he brings to events…” she continued. “He barely looks at them. They aren’t dates. They were placeholders, shields. And add to it how they both behaved when I met Rowan the other day…”
“That feels harsh.” I retorted, feeling defensive.
She didn’t reply, just looked at me with a look that said, seriously?
I rubbed a hand over my jaw, suddenly wanting to interrogate Rowan immediately for entertainment.
Harper kept going. “Caleb looks like a wounded puppy.”
I laughed. “Wow, what did he do to you?”
“It’s true. Are you going to get your panties in a bunch every time I give you my professional opinion?”
“No, it’s just unexpected.” I replied, wanting her to both continue and stop.
“There’s someone,” she said thoughtfully. “Someone who hurt him or someone he left behind.”
My chest tightened unexpectedly.
“Does he date?” she asked.
“Not really.” I replied, thinking about the past few years.
“That’s a shame.”
I looked at her sharply. “Why?”
She shrugged lightly. “I bet he’d make a lovely husband.”
Something ugly and irrational tugged low in my chest. I didn’t like it.
“What?” she asked, noticing the shift in me immediately.
“Nothing.” I replied, taking another drink.
“You looked annoyed.” She said.
“I’m not annoyed.” I replied, and it felt like I was stuck in a verbal sparring match with an equal for the first time in… forever.
“You’re lying.”
I pointed at her with my rocks glass. “You’re enjoying this entirely too much.”
“I’m working.” She huffed, and I would have enjoyed it far more had she stomped her foot.
“You are far too invested in Caleb’s marital potential for someone working.”
Her eyes danced slightly. “Is that something people in your world don’t consider?”
“Marriage?”
“Yes. Well, not…” she replied before correcting herself and saying, “Marriage as something that people choose for love and not convenience.”
I snorted. “Not successfully.”
“That’s sad.” She replied, and her voice matched her words.
“You’re sounding judgmental again.”
Harper took another sip of water. “I’m not judging. I’m observing patterns.”
“Right. Your favourite hobby.”
“I have others.” She said with a soft smile.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Like what?” And oh my god, did I actually want to know…
Her gaze slid to mine slowly. “I'm not telling you.”
Christ.
I pushed away from the counter and moved closer before I thought too hard about it.
“What about Theo?” I asked.
She laughed softly. “Seriously. What does he actually do?”
I smiled despite myself. “You know what? I honestly have no fucking idea.”
“That can’t be true.” She said, and then tilted her head to the side, exposing a bare shoulder as her silky hair shifted with her.
What was wrong with me?
“It absolutely is,” I replied, trying to stay on track.
“He doesn’t work for Northwell?” She asked.
“No.”
What did Theo do?
“He has trust fund money?” She continued.
“Not from Richard.” That man barely acknowledged the fact that he had more than one son.
“Interesting.”
“That’s one word for it.”
Harper tilted her head slightly. “Richard North is more of a liability than your black book roster of hookups.”
I choked on my scotch. “Excuse me?”
Her expression remained perfectly composed. “What?”
“You seem weirdly interested in my sex life.” This wasn’t the first time she brought up my roster of women.
“It is, unfortunately, part of why I’m here.” She said with a look on her face I couldn’t place.
“For sex?” I asked with a wink.
“No,” she deadpanned. “For your inability to sleep with the same woman twice.”
I grinned slowly. “That’s not entirely true.”
“Oh?”
“I have a few regulars.”
Her nose wrinkled. And for some deeply deranged reason, I found that unbearably cute.
“There’s the judgment again,” I said, pointing at her, avoiding how the little things about her affected me.
“That was not judgment. That was a concern for public health.” She said, and then reached forward, grabbing my glass from me before she finished it and moved to grab the bottle, topping up the glass.
I laughed loudly enough that it echoed slightly through the penthouse.
When was the last time someone made me laugh like this?
Harper looked pleased with herself, which she absolutely should have been.
“Alright,” I said, settling beside her, “Continue destroying us psychologically.”
She nodded once, thoughtful again. “Julian needs to get a handle on his father before Richard destroys whatever chance he has with Lucy.”
That landed hard because it was true.
“If he can fix it,” she added quietly, “he cannot mess up again.”
Something in her tone made me look at her more carefully. Like that mattered to her more than professionally.
“And Caleb,” she continued, “needs to either get over whoever broke his heart or go get the girl.”
“You sound confident that there’s a girl,” I said in an almost whisper.
“There’s always a girl.” She replied with a sad lilt to her voice.
I huffed a laugh. “That sounded oddly personal.”
“Did it?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.”
“See? That thing. You do that thing.”
“What thing?” She asked, stealing another sip.
“The mysterious rich blonde girl thing,” I said, snatching my glass back.