Chapter five
Harrison's Apartment, The Level
Violet
“Good morning, dear,” a kind, elderly woman says I as enter the kitchen.
I grind to a halt and blink at her. She’s removing a tray of freshly baked muffins from Harry’s state-of-the-art oven.
Her mouth moves into a wide smile, exposing perfectly bleached white teeth.
They are in complete contrast to her wrinkled aged skin.
Her whole persona emanates compassion and love.
“Mr. Waite said to expect you at some point this morning. Judging by your expression, he never told you about me.”
She chuckles as she places the tray of delights on the counter. “Muffin?”
“Where’s Harry?” I ask, not knowing what else to say.
“He’ll be at work. It’s Monday, there tends to be a seven o’clock meeting to plan the week ahead. Mr. Chase runs a tight ship, I believe.”
She glances at the clock. My gaze follows hers—ten-thirty in the morning.
I must have needed sleep; normally, by six my brain is awake and ready to take on the day. “He’s your brother, is he not?”
“Harry? No. He’s an old family friend. Russell and Connor are my brothers.”
“That’s what I meant.” She cocks her head to one side, her gaze running over my body.
I’m still wearing Harry’s shirt. I slept in it.
“Mr. Waite said you’ve had a difficult few days. Oh my.”
Her hands fly to her mouth as her eyes ping open.
“How rude of me. I’ve not even introduced myself.”
She wipes her palms on her pink checked apron, then steps out from behind the counter and walks toward me.
Both her hands take mine. “I’m Mrs. D., housekeeper for The Level.”
“The Level?” I repeat back to her. She smiles generously.
“The top two floors of this building. Your brothers and Mr. Waite own them. I look after them all. They’re the sons I never had. I live downstairs, apartment twenty-five.”
Still holding my fingers, she tugs me to a bar stool at the kitchen worktop.
“Now, come dear, you look like you need feeding, and I want to learn all about you.”
An hour later, I’m still perched on my seat, eating yet another muffin.
This is my third. Mrs. D. has talked continuously, asking questions about my likes and dislikes but never prying for information about my situation.
The events which have led to me sitting here in front of her are left untouched.
“How long do you plan on staying with Mr. Waite?” she asks. I’m stuffing another piece of muffin in my mouth and pause, considering what to say. The suspicious part of me wonders if this is the interrogation starting. Is she snooping for my brothers?
“Not long,” I reply ambiguously. “I’m only here to visit, then I’ll be moving on.”
“Back to America?” Her focus holds mine as I chew. She knows more than she’s letting on.
“I don’t know.” My answer is honest. There’s no point in me lying.
At this moment, I have no plans to be anywhere.
All I know is the man I have devoted myself to for over a decade is married to someone else and I’m pregnant with his baby.
With no career, no friends, and a fractured family, a clear strategy isn’t anywhere near the forefront of my mind.
Surviving until tomorrow feels like the goal to be accomplished, not sorting out my life.
The front door swings open, ending our conversation.
Harry strides into the room dressed in a sleek gray suit and white shirt.
It’s open at the collar—his tattoos are barely visible, but I see them as the material flexes when he moves.
I wonder what they are. He didn’t have them when we were younger.
What made him feel the need to mark his body with a design, a statement?
Dark eyes fix on me. He runs them over my face, then down my legs to my toes before looking directly into my eyes once more. My mouth dries—he still affects me like he did all those years ago. One look, and I turn to mush.
“Good morning, Mrs. D.,” he says smoothly, walking over then leaning down to place a kiss on her cheek.
“You’ve met Violet. I hope she’s not being too much trouble.”
He glances at me while flashing a sexy smile.
“She was always a bit of a handful when we were kids.”
His words are laden with sexual innuendo causing my cheeks to heat.
“She’s all grown up, but still as much of a conundrum.”
“We’ve been having a lovely morning,” she tells him. “Girl time.”
“Am I interrupting?” He raises his eyebrows at her, and she laughs. “I’m only home to collect some files then I’ll be out of your hair. You can continue your girl time without my interference.”
“This is your home,” she reminds him, rolling her eyes.
“But we all know who runs The Level, Mrs. D., don’t we? And it’s none of us men.” She scowls but doesn’t respond.
“Did you sleep all right, Violet?” he asks, his attention turning to me.
“Yes, thank you. Have you seen my brothers?” I ask, bringing up the topic before I lose my nerve. My brothers are a situation I need to tackle soon.
“They’re at the office, but they do want to see you. I told them only if you’re feeling up to it. You can let me know later, so there’s no pressure. After thirteen years, another few days won’t kill them.”
My shoulders sag as I think of what the meeting with my brothers may entail. Their welcome wasn’t the one I hoped for, but it was what I expected.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice soft and feeble sounding.
All I’ve done since I arrived is thank him for helping me, standing up for me, looking after me in general.
Back on London soil for twenty-four hours, and it’s as if I’ve reverted to being a teenager—crushing on, while being supported by, my brother’s best friend.
But now, we’re in our thirties, and life is much more complicated.
“Anytime, Vi,” he replies. “I always was your security guard.”
Mrs. D. looks between us but makes no comment.
Harry watches me, saying no more. I snap my eyes away from his, uncomfortable with the charged atmosphere.
“I’ll be getting those files,” he says, then turns and walks toward a closed door on the opposite side of the room. My companion and I watch him go inside.
“He’s a special man,” she says, focusing on me.
“Of the three of them I look after, Mr. Waite is always the warmest. It’s a shame he’s not met the woman meant to share his life.”
Her eyes glint as a soft smile plays on her lips.
“In the eight years I’ve worked for him, there’s never been anyone of importance. I wondered why.”
She pauses, the second hand on a clock the only sound. “Perhaps now I know.”
***
That evening, Harry appears home as darkness has begun to fall.
The summer heat hangs in the air. I’ve opened the apartment windows to allow the gentle breeze to circulate the rooms.
He walks into the living area. I’m sitting on the sofa with my legs curled up underneath me reading a gossip magazine.
The armchair directly opposite sags under his weight.
His fingers move and undo two more buttons of his shirt, exposing a smattering of dark hair.
One strong arm rises, and he runs his fingers through his already roughed-up hair.
“Tough day?” I ask, and he grumbles something incoherent. “Do you want anything?”
“A client who isn’t guilty would be nice.”
He looks at me then closes his eyes before leaning backward against the cushions behind him.
“And perhaps business associates who could agree with each other on something. Even what to have for lunch would do.”
I laugh out loud, and he smiles, but doesn’t open his eyes.
“Russell and Connor have been giving you a hard time?” I surmise.
“Always.” He sighs, then brings his focus to mine.
“And they’re on their way here to speak to you. Is that all right? Or do you want me to intervene?”
The morsel of elation I felt from his arrival evaporates.
“I don’t mind telling them no, Vi. But Russell won’t back down until he speaks to you. I suggest you’re honest with him about what happened in Chicago.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll talk to them. Will you stay with me?” We stare at each other for a moment. Even though it’s been years since I saw him last and we both have over a decade of experiences neither of us are aware of, my heart still skips with a glance from him. In his presence, I feel safe.
“Sure,” he replies with a shrug. “Russell’s already pissed off I’ve let you stay here. Getting more involved will give him plenty to beat me across the head with in the boardroom.”
“Thanks,” I say, and he responds with a nod. He rises from his chair, walks over to the fridge, and lifts six bottles of beer from the shelf before returning to place them on the coffee table in front of us. He offers one to me, but I wave it away as a strong knock rattles around the apartment.
“That will be them. You ready?” he asks. I swallow as nerves rise in my stomach. “Vi, last chance to say no. I’ll turn them away at the door, but if I let them in here, they won’t leave until they have answers.”
“I’m ready.” My voice sounds more confident than I feel. But I know to gain their support and reconnect with my family, this is a situation I need to face directly with honesty.
Harry walks over to the door and swings it open. Russell strides past him, making a beeline for where I sit. Uncurling my legs, I move to sit straighter in my seat. He stands above me, glaring down. Connor appears at his side, placing his hand on our brother’s shoulder.
“Russ,” he says, firmly, “sit down. It’s Violet. Let’s hear what she has to say. It’s our little sister, and I don’t know about you, but hell I’ve missed her.”
My heart strains as my brother’s words filter into my brain.
He missed me. Russell grunts but retreats to sit on the sofa opposite.
Harry stands at the back then strolls over and casually sits down next to me, close but not touching.
Connor positions himself on the armchair between the two sofas.
No one speaks. The men each take a beer, snapping the cap and drinking greedily. My gaze roams between them, waiting for someone to take the lead on the situation. Finally, Russell, clearly fed up with no information being forthcoming, speaks.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he snarls. “Thirteen fucking years with no word.”
“Chicago,” I answer simply. “But you know that.” His eyes narrow to slits. Though my brother makes me nervous, I’ve never been able to resist poking the bear. My teen years were spent annoying him, either by defiance or kissing a boy. I’ve lost count of the number of broken noses my lips caused.
“Shacked up with a married man,” he spits. Redness creeps from the base of his throat as his eyes darken. “You fucked off. Threw everything our parents gave you back in their face. Ruined your career. All to be the harlot of that bastard, Marley.”
“I didn’t know,” I whisper angrily. Tears prick my eyes as the thin veil of confidence I had splits. “I loved him.” He laughs out loud.
“Loved him,” he bellows. “Was that before or after he told you about his wife?”
“I didn’t know about her,” I shoot back, furious that he would think I could. “Not until I saw them on the news.” He blinks at me, obviously confused. Connor looks from me to him, then back to me.
“You expect me to believe that for the past thirteen years you didn’t know you were the other woman? That you cut all contact with your family, moved across the world, and were oblivious to it all? Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?”
“I believe her,” Connor interjects. Russell scowls at him.
He shrugs his shoulders in response. “Our Violet was never a liar. Spontaneous, forceful, and overzealous, but never a liar.”
He turns to me, leaning across and taking my hand in his.
“I believe you, little sister, but I’m furious at you for living a lie for so long. For walking away and not contacting us.”
He squeezes my fingers. “Especially when we reached out to you.”
“I didn’t know,” I say, never dropping my eyes from his.
“Aiden told me you wanted nothing to do with me. That I’d let you all down and you had all washed your hands of me.”
Silence falls over the room as my brothers process what I’ve told them.
Aiden Marley had duped us all and splintered my family in the process.
“The bastard’s going to pay,” Russell growls. “His lies and deceit will come full circle to land firmly at his door.”
“I’m already on it,” Harry states, and all eyes turn to him.
“He owes our murdering millionaire money—a lot of money. Perhaps we could provide client satisfaction while giving Mr. Marley a taste of his own medicine.”
The men all look at each other, their agreement obvious to them but perplexing for me.
“We can discuss the possibilities at our next meeting, but let’s just say I’ve become privy to some interesting information.”
“I look forward to hearing it, Waite,” Russell replies, then glances at our brother.
“Shall we go?” Connor suggests and they both stand.
“Violet, you would probably be better moving in with me,” Russell adds. My skin prickles at the thought. I’d much rather stay here or somewhere else anyway.
“Living arrangements can be discussed another time,” Harry says smoothly.
“It’s been a long day.” He glances at the clock on the wall—it’s almost midnight.
Connor mumbles in agreement, then encourages our headstrong brother out of the door.
I sigh in relief as the door closes behind them.
Harry is still sitting on the sofa beside me, his eyes firmly fixed on the closed door.
“That went better than I thought,” I tell him, and he chuckles.
“For you, yes. But for Aiden Marley, he now has a target painted clearly on his back.”
His beautiful and intense eyes bore into mine, pinning me to the spot.
“Russell is a different man in some ways to the one you knew. Yes, he’s still headstrong and a bully, but he’s seen things he can’t unsee. You have to understand, we move in circles a lot darker than they appear.”
I blink at him, wondering how to respond.
“Our jobs are a mixture of light and dark. I defend some of the wealthiest men in the world. We rub shoulders with people who could end us in a heartbeat.”
“I know you support the mafia,” I tell him, and he smiles.
“We work for the mafia, there’s a difference. But some of what they do isn’t all that bad. Often the most ruthless men I’ve met have pristine principles. The world is all shades of gray—not everything is simply good or bad.”
“What shade are you?” I ask him. His focus never leaves mine.
He looks through me before answering. My heart beats hard in my chest.
The young man who took me to bed for the first time is sitting in front of me.
He’s still the same kind generous soul I knew back then, but today I see a seam of iron running through him.
He’s still Harry but a harder version of him.
“Whatever shade you want me to be.”