Total pages in book: 211
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
“Me or Gigi,” he says roughly, his face all hard lines and shadows.
“How are we having the same conversation again? I answered this in the hallway. You. You, Eric. You can read the messages. All of them.”
“I will. Don’t tell her anything without talking to me first.”
“I already told you what happened and that it won’t happen again.”
He tosses the condom in a trashcan, zips his pants up, and then settles his hands on his hips. “You do know she could be setting you up, right?”
“I know what she’s capable of,” I say. “I was going to tell you what she said." I’d scoot off the counter, but I’m half naked and he’s now fully dressed. It just feels weird. I grab a towel and pull it over me before I jump down. “Can you hand me my robe behind the door?”
He stares at me a moment but does what I ask. Once it’s in hand and then on my body I push to my feet and face him. “This is not right what you’re doing right now. You need to read the messages.” I start walking and he shackles my wrist and pulls me back to him.
“I need to be able to trust you, Harper. There is no in between for us.”
There are so many ways I could come back at him for that statement, that’s getting really old. We’re on repeat but I force myself to breathe and remember it’s obviously for a reason. He needs to hear my answers again, and I get it. He’s wildly successful, incredibly intelligent, and some might say irreparably broken. I’m not one of those people but he has plenty of reasons to be guarded. “You can trust me,” I say, my tone no longer combative. “I swear to you, Eric, on my father’s life, on all that I am, that you can trust me. I’m sorry. You went downstairs and she texted me to see if we had any news and I just—I asked her about the number.”
“How long have you known about the wire transfers?”
“Just read the messages, Eric. I’ll get my phone for you.”
He reaches into his pocket and produces my phone. “I have it, remember?”
“Right. Good. Read the messages. Read any of my messages.”
He stares at me, ignoring the messages, searching my face, and I don’t look away. I want him to see the truth in my eyes. I’m with him, all in, and loyal but time ticks and we’re still standing there and it feels like he’s waiting on me to say or do something. “I will not ever go to Gigi or anyone without talking to you first. I know what she did to you and your mom. I should have thought—”
“Yes. You should have.” He steps around me and walks into the bedroom. I quickly follow entering the bedroom as he sits on one of the chairs and starts reading through my messages.
I cross to sit in the chair angled his direction, right next to him, holding my breath as seconds tick by. Abruptly he angles my direction and hands me my phone before he reaches for his own. Without a word, he punches an auto-dial number, and it takes only a moment for me to realize we’re on speakerphone.
“Morning, sunshine,” a man answers.
“Blake,” Eric greets. “You’re on speaker. Meet Harper.”
“How the fuck are you, Harper?”
I laugh. “Well, you made me laugh, but otherwise”—my eyes meet Eric’s—“I’m not very fucking good, actually.”
“Talk to me,” he says. “I’m everyone’s therapist. Well, I’m not actually anyone’s therapist, but I am their kick in the ass, and problem solver. Hit me with it, all of it.”
Eric sets the phone on the table between us. “Gigi freaked out when Harper told her about the message we got tonight. She thought it was a wire transfer number. Seems she’s been getting some large wires and then pulling the cash for Isaac.”
“Indeed, she has,” he says. “I sent you proof of those transactions. As for her pulling the cash and giving it to Isaac, I reserve judgment on that idea. If I can’t prove it, I don’t believe it.”
“Agreed,” Eric says. “What do you know about the wires she’s been getting?”
“The identifier as you called it, is not a bank transaction, a foreign exchange number, or anything that pulls up electronically with any ease at all. I’ll dig into personal emails and documents over the next few days. I’ll let you know what I find.”
Eric’s eyes are on me as he asks, “Questions for Blake?”
“A very broad one. Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
“A cover-up for sure,” he says. “My concern is that it could be a set-up with Eric as the target.”
My eyes go wide and I straighten, “I’m not setting him up. Eric, I’m not setting you up. I’m not part of this.”