Finalizing the agreement with Pink makes the rest of the conference feel unnecessary, and a bit anticlimactic. And knowing Robert is here, lurking about puts a dent into any enjoyment I’d have being here with Emery. So we cut out early, heading back to New York the following evening. I make sure to squeeze in a couple of face-to-face meetings with clients that need to see me before we cut out. To subtly remind them what Duke Capital has done for them, and will continue to do. The experience and professionalism we’ve delivered. Let that be fresh on their minds when Robert slinks in with his sleezy pitches.
One of the many privileges of owning your own plane and keeping a pilot on standby is the ability to change your flight plans on a whim. Add in a late takeoff with an overnight flight and we’ll be back in New York in the morning without even missing another day.
Claire has already amended the contract and sent it to the legal team in New York for final review. I’ve looped Ramon in and he’s revising budgets and coordinating with the different departments involved at Duke to make my promises to Pink a reality. There’s a lot to get done, a lot to coordinate, but Emery and I can sleep on the plane and hit the ground running in the morning.
She’s giddy as we pack up, which honestly doesn’t take long since we barely had any time to get unpacked in the first place. She keeps looking at me and grinning, occasionally shaking her head like she can’t believe what she’s seeing.
“You are incredible,” she says at last, reaching over to pull me by my tie into a kiss, still reminiscing about our meeting with Pink. “I’ve never seen you like that. So…alpha.”
I chuckle. “You were my inspiration.”
She bites on her lip, her hand still on my tie. “That was such a genius move, adding the donations. I wouldn’t have even thought it was possible, combining a business deal with charity. And by the way”—she gives my tie a tug along with a sexy grin—“charity is really sexy.”
“Why not?” I ask. “I knew I had to do something creative to seal the deal with Pink. And it solves two issues as it were. I’ve been trying to figure something out with the charity issues you brought to my attention. My original donation was a start, but this is something long-term.”
“What donation?” Emery asks, her grip loosening.
I take her hand. “I did something.”
She blinks. “What is that?”
“I know it doesn’t undo the mess with some of the charities Duke Capital is currently supporting, but I want to make it right. I know there’s still more work to be done, but I made a donation to the charity you told me about. The one that helped your family. I matched the amount we donated to that sham of a charity and wrote another check.”
For a moment, she just stares at me. Then, she steps back, shaking her head.
“But wasn’t…didn’t you already donate hundreds of thousands of dollars to them?”
“Close to a million,” I say. “So I rounded up.”
“Harrison, that’s…that’s…”
“I had to make it right,” I say. “And if I couldn’t pull those funds and reallocate them, then this was the next best thing. At least, I thought it was at the time.”
It’s her expression that worries me. She’s still shaking her head, turned away from me. Is she incredulous? Or have I shamed her? Does she think I’m trying to buy her with something like this? First I pay off her student loans, then I make an enormous donation to a charity that is very personal to her. Maybe this isn’t how normal men behave, how the fuck am I supposed to know?
“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” I say. “I made it anonymously, if that helps.”
She turns around, tears pooling in her eyes. They take me aback. I am not good with crying women in general, but a crying Emery? It feels like a punch to the gut. Like there’s a shaky trapdoor beneath my feet.
“You,” she whispers, “are nothing like what I expected, Harrison Duke. Not at all what I thought.”
She presses herself into my arms, her cheek resting against my chest as she embraces me. I hold her there, unsure exactly what to do with her. This isn’t sex, easily navigated. This is something more intimate, and it terrifies me.
“Is that a good thing?” I ask, trying for levity in my voice.
She pulls back and wipes at her eyes with her hands.
“Yes,” she says with a laugh. “It is.”
A buzz on the door tells us that the valet’s here—hopefully not the same douche that checked us in—ready to take us to the plane. Emery grabs my hand and squeezes it.
“Thank you,” she says. “For…everything.”
All I can do is nod. I don’t know what “everything” entails, and there’s something sad about Emery’s look. But she’s already turned away, heading to open the door so the moment is lost. I need to get us on the plane, back to the office, and then work on sorting all of this out. I want the feeling from earlier back. The celebration, the victory. The…happiness. This new energy between us unnerves me.
She’s quiet, even after we’ve pulled away from the hotel and right up until the plane takes off. Once we’re in the sky, I tell her to go get some sleep, take advantage of the onboard bedroom. She doesn’t object, heading to the back of the plane, and whether or not she wants me to follow her, I don’t. I give her some space, because I need to digest everything that’s happened over the last few days.
Unfortunately, one look at my phone tells me I won’t have the luxury of processing anything in peace. I have a missed call from Blythe, and as much as I’d like to ignore her, I’d rather get this over with because I’m sure I know what this is about. At least this will be an easy call. She’s heard about the deal with Pink, surely. The reallocation of charitable funds that she won’t have a say in. Ones she won’t be able to manipulate. And she’s calling to scheme and try to talk me out of it. Well, fuck her. She won’t be screwing up this deal, my company, or my life with her bullshit.
I punch her contact information and let the phone ring. She answers almost immediately, her voice its usual purr. I used to find it sexy, but those days are long gone.
“Well, hello, Harrison,” she murmurs into the phone. “I’m surprised you had the time to call me back.”
“What do you want, Blythe?” I ask. I’m not interested in her games.
She giggles. It sounds terrible and has nothing to do with the connection. She’s not a giggler; neither her voice nor her disposition lends itself to giggling.
“Did I interrupt something?”
“Stop wasting my time,” I snap. “I have things to do. What do you want?”
I can imagine her at home, pacing in her kitchen, or maybe lounging on the furniture expertly picked by a designer. A home I’m paying for. Furniture I’ve paid for. Because everything always goes to her.
But not this time.
“I know, Harrison,” she says, a bit of a singsong added to her tone. One that suits her even less than a giggle. “I know what you’ve been up to.”
“I don’t care if you know,” I say. “I’m committed to this deal and neither you nor your boyfriend will be able to shove a single shady clause into it.”
For a moment, there’s silence on the other end. That singsong tone catching up with me a moment too late.
“Oh, this isn’t about your ridiculous deal,” she says. “Though, I must say. I commend you for thinking of it. I told Robert it was petty to try to challenge you for that deal. But no, Harrison. I don’t care about that.”
“Then what is this about, Blythe?” I say, moments from losing my patience.
“I know about her,” she says, dragging out the last syllable. The words freeze me as I realize who she’s talking about. Emery. But it must be a bluff. How would she know? It’s impossible. Unless Claire told her. Which isn’t impossible.
“Indeed,” Blythe says, and I can hear the cruel smile in her voice even without seeing it. “I know that you’ve got yourself a young little plaything. An intern and a mistress in one package deal. And you know what else I know?”
I don’t answer her. I won’t give her the satisfaction.
“I know it’s time to sign the papers, Harrison,” she says. “Or I promise you, you’ll regret it.”