22. Elliot #2
At least he was honest. I exhaled sharply and looked past him into the narrow slice of entryway I could see.
No sign of Harper, or her perfectly selected shoes by the door, or her couture coat on the hook.
No hint of her perfume lingering in the space…
Nothing. The emptiness made my throat feel tight.
“I’d go anywhere,” I said before I could stop myself.
Thomas’s expression finally changed. Not pity, something worse. Sadness.
“I believe you.”
Hope sparked stupidly in my chest. Then he added, “I also believe that would have mattered more before.”
For a second, I couldn’t move. The words sat between us.
Before.
Before I hurt her.
Before, I needed to know where she was.
Before I understood what it felt like to have her gone.
Thomas stepped back. “She’s not here, Mr. Vale.”
“I can see that,” I murmured.
“And if she were, I still would not let you in.”
He closed the door, and I stood there on the front step like an idiot. People passed on the sidewalk behind me. I remained there long enough that Thomas eventually opened the door again just enough to say, “Do not make me call Mr. Black.”
That snapped me out of it. Mostly because the idea of Rowan collecting me twice in twenty-four hours was humiliating.
So, I left. But I did not go home right away.
I was beginning to hate my elevator and my penthouse.
So instead, I drove. Past restaurants, hotels, and the corner where Harper had once laughed so hard in the back of my car that she snorted, then threatened to exit the moving vehicle if I ever mentioned it.
Past the bookstore where she had paused in the window long enough for me to notice, the florist where I had ordered flowers because I did not know how else to say I was thinking of her.
Everything in the city had been touched by her.
Which was impossible. We had only had thirty days.
Thirty days should not have been enough time to ruin Chicago.
And yet there I was, driving through a city that had become a monument to all the ways I had fucked up.
By the time the start-of-the-month meeting rolled around, I was not in a good place. That was putting it mildly. I was in a boardroom for a company I loved, a company we all built from the ground up, completely distracted because Harper Lane had ruined me.
How was it February already?
How long had it been since I saw her?
Since I smelled her?
Since she was in my arms?
Since she looked at me like I was something worth choosing?
“Elliot, are you paying attention?”
My head snapped up at the sound of Julian’s voice. His cheerful voice. The fucking audacity.
“Yes. Of course.”
No one believed me. Not Julian, Rowan, or Caleb. Not the staff who were crowded into the boardroom, and definitely not Theo, who was sitting two chairs down, eating a powdered donut like he had any right to be in the room.
I stared at him. “What are you doing here?”
Theo looked up, mouth full. “I was invited.”
“You don’t work here.”
He shrugged. “I was in the neighbourhood.”
“With donuts?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I leaned toward the admin beside me and whispered, “Does he work here?”
She looked panicked, and Theo grinned. He held up the box. “Donut?”
“No.”
“Grief burns calories.” He quipped.
“Fuck off.”
“Worth a shot.” Theo shrugged with a smile.
Rowan looked annoyed, which was more emotion than most people got from him lately.
He had been worse than usual lately. Sofia hadn’t been around the office, and every time someone said her name, Rowan looked like he might start removing limbs.
So naturally, because I apparently had a death wish, I kept pushing.
Rowan leaned forward, hands clasped on the table. “For fuck’s sake, Elliot. We get it. You screwed up and lost your favourite toy. But you still have a job to do, and you'd better start doing it.”
My hand slammed down on the boardroom table. The sound cracked through the room.
“What the fuck did you call her?”
Rowan leaned back in his seat and looked me directly in the eye. “I called the woman you cheated on and are currently having a tantrum over your favourite toy.”
Each word hit harder than the last. Your. Favorite. Toy.
Rage tore through me so sharply I almost didn’t recognize it. The thought of anyone believing Harper was nothing more than that to me made something violent wake up in my chest.
“She was not a toy.” I ground out.
“No?” Rowan’s voice stayed calm. “You sure as hell treated her like one.”
I stood, and my chair scraped back.
Julian muttered, “Jesus.”
I pointed at Rowan. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know enough,” he replied, still calm.
“You don’t know a fucking thing.”
“I know she showed up for you and you punished her for it.”
For a second, I couldn’t breathe right. Then, because I was a bastard and apparently committed to self-destruction, I went for blood.
“Oh.” My mouth curved into something ugly. “Like Sofia? Where’d your toy run off to?”
Rowan moved so fast that his chair hit the floor behind him. Julian and Caleb were up just as quickly. The admin beside me made a small sound of terror. Maybe a squeak.
“Out,” Julian said to the staff.
No one hesitated. Chairs fell as people fled.
Theo remained seated with another donut.
Because apparently, no force on earth could remove him from front-row seats to a Northwell emotional breakdown.
Once the last staff member had disappeared, Julian closed the glass door and turned back toward us.
His expression was colder now. Which I did not enjoy, because Lucy had made him human enough that disappointment looked wrong on him.
Caleb stood at the head of the table, and Rowan picked up his chair in complete silence. I sat back down because if I stayed standing, one of us was going through the glass wall. Probably me.
Caleb stared at both of us for a long second. Then he said, “Are we done?”
No one answered.
Theo raised his hand. Caleb glared at him, and Theo lowered it with a frown.
“Good,” Caleb said.
The silence stretched. Award-winning silence. The kind that deserved a plaque. The only person who looked like he was enjoying himself was Theo.
Fuck him. Also, I kind of wanted a donut.
Then I thought about how much I had been eating, drinking, not sleeping, not going to the gym, not doing anything except existing in a miserable loop. So instead, I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled.
Caleb sat down slowly. “As I was saying before this meeting became a group therapy session no one consented to, we received an interesting piece of information ahead of an official PR rollout.”
Rowan’s head lifted slightly. Mine did too. Because despite everything, we were who we were.
Information mattered.
Caleb slid a folder toward the center of the table.
“And an invitation to what may be one of the most significant private events of the year, maybe the decade.”
Julian reached for the folder first. His eyes moved over the page, then sharpened as he asked, “Alexander Montgomery?”
Rowan’s attention was locked in immediately. Even Theo leaned forward.
“Wait. Montgomery Montgomery?” Theo asked.
Caleb nodded.
Theo whistled low. “Damn.”
I frowned. Not because I didn’t know the name.
Everyone knew the name. The Montgomery family existed in a realm where money stopped being a number and became infrastructure.
Buildings, foundations, political legacies, universities, hospitals, and pieces of cities shaped by decisions made behind doors most people never saw.
Old money was too small a phrase. The Montgomerys were an old power.
“Why is he inviting us?” Rowan asked.
Caleb leaned back. “That is the interesting part.”
I looked down at the folder, but didn’t open it.
My attention kept drifting. Harper would have already known this; the thought appeared without permission.
She would have walked into the room with a briefing before any of us had finished our first coffee.
She would have known which board members mattered, which donors were performative, which journalists were fishing for access, which spouse knew more than their husband, and which assistant was actually the gatekeeper.
She would have looked at me over the top of a file and said something dry about Northwell confusing visibility with influence, and I would have wanted to kiss her.
I swallowed and forced my focus back.
Caleb continued, “Montgomery International Foundation is making a leadership announcement. Alexander’s daughter will step into a formal role.”
Julian looked up. “I thought he kept her out of public life.”
“He did,” Caleb said. “Almost entirely.”
Theo sat forward. “Wait. He has a daughter?”
Rowan gave him a look. “You didn’t know?”
“I knew in the abstract,” Theo said. “Like, I know Europe has monarchs. I don’t keep tabs on mysterious heiresses locked in towers.”
“She’s not in a tower,” Caleb said with a scowl.
“How do you know?” Theo asked, because he is Theo.
Caleb ignored him. “Apparently, this will be her first official public appearance beside Alexander in years. Maybe ever, depending on how you define public.”
That got my attention despite myself. “Ever?”