7. Elliot #2
Her lips curved slightly. “Maybe I enjoy confusing you.”
“That is becoming increasingly obvious.”
“And you all need to figure out what Theo is up to.” She added.
“We’ve been trying for years,” I replied, moving closer.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Her eyes widened slightly before she laughed again.
Fuck me. I was becoming addicted to that sound.
“And you,” she said finally.
I straightened slightly. “What about me?”
She turned fully toward me then, cool blue eyes steady on mine.
“You need a relationship that lasts longer than thirty minutes.”
There it was.
My opening.
I smiled slowly. “What about thirty days?”
Her expression didn’t change immediately. But I saw it. Curiosity, a brief flicker beneath all that polished composure.
“What?” she asked carefully.
I stepped closer.
“A public relationship,” I said. “For thirty days.”
She stared at me, and I kept going before she could shut it down.
“You’re already working with Northwell. We already have chemistry.” I gestured between us. “People noticed us tonight. We looked believable.”
“We looked believable?” she questioned.
“You know we did.” I said, moving a step closer.
“That doesn’t make it a good idea,” she replied.
“No,” I agreed easily. “It makes it a convenient one.”
Her gaze narrowed slightly. “And what exactly would be the purpose?”
“My image.” I said with a shrug, trying to play off the desperation I felt and did not understand.
“That’s honest.”
“I occasionally dabble in honesty.”
“You should do it more often.” She said with a soft smile.
I ignored that.
“Northwell needs stability right now. Julian’s situation could get messy. Richard is a walking lawsuit. Theo is Theo.” I held her gaze. “And people already like seeing you beside me.”
That last part came out rougher than intended.
“And what,” she asked softly, “would I get out of this arrangement?”
I smiled. “You really are from my world.”
Something flickered across her face too quickly for me to catch.
“Terms?” she asked finally.
I tried not to look too pleased.
“You’re considering it?” I asked, my body far too tense.
Was I breathing?
“I’m considering whether it would be possible for me to survive thirty days.” She quipped and stole my glass back.
“I’m delightful.”
“You’re exhausting.” She said and then covered her smile, taking a sip of my scotch.
“Same thing.”
She shook her head slightly, but she was smiling now.
“Fine,” she drawled. “Hypothetically.”
My pulse kicked unexpectedly.
“We would need rules.” She added.
That surprised me enough that I actually laughed. “You agreed faster than I expected. Should that concern me?”
Harper set our glass down carefully. “No physical contact outside of public appearances.”
I blinked. “That feels impossible.”
“You’ll survive.”
“Questionable,” I replied.
“And you cannot sleep with other women while we’re together.” She added, something passing over her eyes.
I stared at her for a beat before grinning slowly. “I can’t go without sex for thirty days.”
Her brows lifted. “That sounds like a personal failing.”
I stepped closer deliberately, trailing my fingers lightly down her bare arm. Her breath shifted, and goosebumps followed my finger.
“We’re old news, Harper,” I murmured. “And I thought you told me I needed to sleep with someone more than once.”
Her pulse fluttered beneath my fingertips.
“This arrangement would technically achieve that.” I continued.
Her eyes held mine.
“No kissing,” she said quietly.
I frowned. “Why?”
“Because kissing is personal.”
Well, that was the most revealing thing she’d said all night.
“I would kiss my girlfriend,” I pointed out.
She thought about it for a moment before saying, “You may kiss me publicly.”
“Publicly only?”
Why did that bother me so much?
“Yes,” she said, stepping away from the island.
“That feels cruel somehow.”
She ignored that and continued saying, “No sleepovers.”
I sighed dramatically. “Harper.”
“No personal entanglements.” She added.
“You say that like we’re negotiating a hostage exchange.”
Why did any of this bother me? I was getting what I wanted. Right?
“Aren’t we?” she questioned. “And this remains professional; we don’t dig into the past or make this personal. The sex is just that, sex to keep your overactive libido in check and not for intimacy.” She finished.
I looked at her for a long moment. I wanted to fight every point she had just made, but I nodded.
“So,” I said finally. “Do we agree?”
“Yes.”
That came entirely too easily.
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re suspiciously calm about this.”
“You offered me a strategic public arrangement built around image management and emotional unavailability.” She tilted her head slightly, almost as if she were challenging me, before adding, “This is the most normal proposal I’ve received all year.”
I laughed so hard that I nearly spilled my drink.
“Harper, who the hell have you been dating?”
“You don’t get personal details.” She added.
I pulled my phone out. “Dates.”
She blinked. “What dates?”
“The agreement.” I opened my calendar. “We need official start and end dates.”
“You’re actually scheduling this?” She questioned, but moved closer.
“You wanted rules.” I shot back.
She shook her head softly, as if she were both amused and disturbed by me.
“The Northwell holiday event would be the final public appearance,” I said.
A strange expression crossed her face before she schooled it, saying, “I have a prior engagement that weekend.”
“With whom?”
“That would be personal, Elliot.”
Right. There it was again. That wall. Something about it irritated me more than it should have.
“Fine,” I said lightly. “It would still mark the end of the agreement.”
The words landed strangely in my chest.
End of the agreement.
Thirty days suddenly felt both incredibly long and nowhere near long enough.
I pushed the thought away immediately. “Well,” I said, locking my phone. “Now that business is settled.”
Harper eyed me carefully. “That tone concerns me.”
“It should,” I said with a wink.
I set my glass down and loosened my cufflinks. Her eyes tracked the movement.
“I am going to fuck you now,” I said with all the confidence I did not feel in that moment.
Her lips parted. “Are you?”
I started unbuttoning my shirt. “Harper Vale…”
Her eyes widened instantly.
Fuck, that was entertaining and also what was I doing calling her by my last name?
I continued, “... will you grant me the pleasure of letting me fuck you tonight?”
She stared at me for a full second, and then laughed.
I moved toward her slowly, watching her carefully now. Because beneath the banter, beneath the elegance and the rules and the careful control… she wanted this too.
I reached her and slid one hand around her waist, pulling her gently against me.
Her breath caught this time.
There she was. That girl from New York.
I lowered my mouth toward hers instinctively, and Harper turned her head immediately.
The rejection shouldn’t have annoyed me.
It absolutely did.
“No kissing,” she reminded softly.
Right. The stupid rule.
I exhaled a laugh against the curve of her jaw. “You are deeply frustrating.”
“You like it,” she replied.
Unfortunately.
She turned herself so she was facing the windows and brushed her long hair over one shoulder, exposing her back to me. Then she looked up at me over her shoulder through lowered lashes and quietly said, “Undo my dress, Elliot.”