The Empire Read online

  The elevator opens and I lead her out of the car, into the hallway, and the minute we’re outside, I cut right onto a side street and then pull her into an alcove by a building. I turn her to face me, my fingers tangling in her hair, my body pressing her backward into the corner.

  “Eric?” she says. “I keep asking what happened. You aren’t telling me everything. What—”

  I kiss her. Hell, I might fuck her right here. I need her that much, and that doesn’t make her a weakness. It makes her the reason my brother, and anyone coming at us, would be smart to back the fuck off.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Harper

  I’m pressed against the wall of that alcove, Eric’s big, hard body pressed to mine, his tongue drugging me with lick after lick, his hands all over my body, and while it’s easy to be lost in him and us, I need to know what is going on in his head.

  Somehow, I find the will to push him back, to force him to stop kissing me. “What is going on with you?”

  “You. You’re what’s going on with me and that’s what I want. Fuck this damn family.” He inhales and lets it out. “But as much as I want to fuck you right here and now, I’ll wait. We’re going shopping. On the way, we’ll check on your mother. After we shop, we’re going to eat lunch. We’re going to be you and me—us—and forget all of them.”

  “Of course that’s what I want,” I say, “but we need this to be over. We need—”

  “A break.”

  “There’s an assassin running around, Eric. We can’t just take a break.”

  “I hope like hell he comes after us. I’ll deal with him, and then he’ll be gone, but my gut says that he’s not coming after us. He came for my father.”

  “I was attacked, remember?”

  “Those attacks don’t align.”

  “They’re connected.”

  “And yet they’re not.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask.

  “It means we’re guessing and chasing our tails. We need facts, and that means we need to give Walker time to work. We need a break. They need space.” He laces the fingers of one hand with mine and kisses my knuckles. “Let’s go shopping. Actually, let’s go eat first. I’m starving.”

  “Me, too. I’m in.”

  He strokes my cheek. “This will be over soon and the reward we get on the other side is each other. No one is taking you from me, Harper. Not even you.” He doesn’t give me time to respond. He inches out of the alcove and I don’t miss how he scans the area before he guides me onto the walkway.

  He immediately bends our elbows and sets us in motion. “What do you want to eat?”

  We’re doing this. We’re taking a break, which isn’t really a break since the world could implode around us at any moment, but the truth is, if that’s going to happen, we need to enjoy every moment we have together. I’m going to enjoy this man. “Your favorite restaurant,” I say. “Take me there.”

  “I have a lot of favorites,” he says, “but how about my version of Denver’s North Italia here in New York City.”

  “Perfect,” I say. “I’m all in.”

  “You better be, baby, because I am.” Again, he doesn’t give me the time to respond. He hurries us along and I look forward to sitting down with him and having time to talk, to find out what’s really in his head.

  ***

  Thirty minutes later, we’re sitting in a cozy booth in the back of a restaurant that is dimly lit with dangling lights shaped like lanterns, glasses of wine in front of us. Eric glances at his cellphone. “Per Adam, your mother is asleep.”

  “Honestly, that doesn’t break my heart,” I say. “I’m having a hard time with her willingness to look the other way where your father is concerned. How can she know what he did to your mother and stay with him?” Guilt eats at me. “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner, but I just—”

  “Didn’t want to punish me with something I can’t change. I know that.” He strokes my hair from my face. “I don’t blame you. I blame him.”

  “I hate that my mother is okay with this.”

  “She’s desperate and afraid, baby, and she could be afraid of him. He’s powerful and she knows he basically killed my mother. That has to come with fear. He’s a bad person.”

  “And you saved him. Do you think you would have called the ambulance had you known about what he did to your mother first?”

  “Yes. Because if I let him die in that situation, I would have looked guilty and then I wouldn’t be here with you now.”

  He saved his father to be with me? I don’t even know what to do with that, what it must be like to hate someone that much. To hate your father that much. To love me enough to get past that hate. It matters to me. It matters so very much. “You think your father’s still in danger?”

  “Yes. He is.”

  “But didn’t Isaac just try to get you to protect himself and your father?”

  “Isaac tried to get me to protect him. Hell, Isaac might have told the mob to take our father out to inherit and then found out that he doesn’t inherit.”

  “You really think there’s another sibling?”

  “We’ll know by morning when Blake’s people bring us those documents.” His cellphone rings. He grabs it from his pocket and glances at the number before sticking it back in his pocket. “Fuck,” he curses and sips his wine.

  “What is it?” I ask anxiously.

  “One of the investors in the NFL deal. I’ve neglected everything over this Kingston debacle. I have to deal with real life and this deal, which is too fucking good to lose. I’m going to set-up a few calls for tonight when we get home.” He punches in a text message.

  I watch him, savoring the word “home” because he used it with the word “we.” Our home. Our home together. He sets his phone aside. “Let’s talk about you. Me. Us. Movies. Anything but that family.”

  “How about my house?” I ask. “I have to deal with it soon.”

  “Do you have a mortgage?”

  “Yes. I do.”

  “Why don’t we pay it off and rent it out?”

  “We? You mean you?” I’m suddenly intensely aware of his money that is not my money. “Eric. I have no money. They have my money and—”

  He cups my face and leans in and kisses me. “You have money. All the money you could ever need, I promise you. You will never want for anything again.”

  “No.” I pull back to look at him. “No, I don’t want to live off of you, Eric. I can’t live off of you. That changes us. That makes us something that I don’t want us to be.”

  “First, you aren’t living off of me. The idea here is to share a life. You come to work with Bennett Enterprises and make your own way. There are so many directions you can go inside Grayson’s empire and make your own money. Mia has, which brings me to point two: you need to have a friend date with her when this is over. She didn’t come to Grayson with money and she struggled with the fear of him thinking she wanted his money, but he never felt that. I don’t feel that with you either.”

  “Until I start spending your money.”

  “Baby, I made all this money. I need you to share it with.”

  I tear up. “Eric. Eric, you—”

  “Are so fucking in love with you, woman. I will do anything for you. I’d die for you.”

  “Don’t say that, especially not now.” Panic rises in me, irrational panic. “Don’t say that. You don’t get to die. This doesn’t end that way.”

  “No,” he promises. “It doesn’t. It ends with us living happily ever after. You and me against the world.”

  And with that declaration, Savage steps to the side of our table. “We have a problem.”

  “Fuck off,” Eric says and kisses me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Harper

  After telling Savage to fuck off, Eric proceeds to ignore our public location and kisses me quite thoroughly. Savage, however, isn’t willing to be dismissed. He clears his throat. Loudly. Then repeats, and the repeat i
s my trigger. I pull back, pressing on Eric’s chest. “Eric,” I whisper against his lips. “We need to know what he wants. We need to know what the problem is.”

  “We need a fucking break.” He leans in to kiss me again.

  I press my hands to his lips. “Baby, please.”

  “Baby?”

  My cheeks heat. Baby? Where did that come from? I’m not sure I’ve ever called anyone baby in my life. “Can I pretend that didn’t come out of my mouth?”

  “No. No, you can’t.” His eyes warm, his hand sliding under my neck. “Say it again.”

  Savage sits down across from us. “Your father had another heart attack but they revived him.”

  Eric inhales a sharp breath, his jaw setting hard, his forehead touching mine, a beat, two, three, before he turns to face Savage. “Was there foul play?”

  “Nothing we can pin down. We had eyes on him. No nurse or doctor had visited him from the time he settled in his room until the attack.”

  “Could he have been poisoned again on the way to his room?” I ask.

  “There’s too many medical hands on him to rule that out,” Savage answers.

  “His heart was strained from the initial attack,” Eric adds. “No one is going to question another attack.” He moves on. “Where’s Isaac?”

  “At the hospital, but not with your father,” he says. “He was in there when the heart attack happened though.”

  “Of course he was,” Eric says dryly, and again, moves on. “None of this is the problem you announced. A problem is something I can affect. A problem is something that I can fix. Like the problem of you. You watching us make out on the street and then following us here.”

  “Eric,” I say softly, more and more aware that he’s on edge, standing on the side of a cliff ready to jump. And who can blame him? The father that basically ensured his mother’s death is hanging onto life by a thread.

  Savage doesn’t push him. He doesn’t pop off with a smart remark. He gets it. I see that in his steady stare, his even tone. “Do you want to make a showing at the hospital?”

  “No,” Eric says. “If the police come looking for me, let me know. Otherwise, I need you to do what we discussed. Find the fake FBI consultant, Savage. Find out what he knows.”

  “Another one of our men is taking over my post and then I’ll step into that problem. I’ll solve it so you don’t have to.”

  “Your post? You mean following us? You’re relieved. You don’t need back-up. I got this.”

  “I’m not leaving you uncovered,” Savage retorts, leaning in closer. “Not with a fucking assassin on the loose and if you want to fire me, I’ll still fucking follow you. So, tell me to fuck off all you want. That’s not happening.”

  “You know Harper is sitting right here,” Eric says, as if I’m delicate and can’t handle the F-word, but I’m pretty sure he’s just goading Savage now, because Savage really does make it entertaining.

  Savage eyes me. “I’m fucking sorry for saying fucking, Harper, but I’m still not fucking leaving you, or the asshole you’re with, exposed and alone. Not fucking doing it. Have a fucking good dinner.” He slides out of the booth and leaves.

  “Well, that was—interesting,” I say, biting back laughter that Eric doesn’t seem to be sharing. “Savage is as stubborn as you,” I add, casting him a sideways look.

  But he doesn’t reply and doesn’t look at me. He downs his wine and refills his glass.

  I watch him and give him a full minute to just breathe before I gently prod, “Talk to me.”

  “I solve problems, Harper. I do that in my own space. I need to breathe. I need to think.”

  “Then let’s go home. I can leave you alone and—”

  “I don’t want you to leave me alone. I want this fucking family out of our lives.” He turns to face me. “We’re going to take a few hours, just a few damn hours, and pretend that they are. I need to relax and let my mind work and that’s what we’re doing. Relaxing. Together.”

  I don’t think there’s any chance of him relaxing right now, but I lean forward and press my hand to his jaw. “Some time alone together is good.”

  He covers my hand with his and leans and kisses me. “Just what the doctor ordered.” His voice softens on the end of the sentence, and I can almost feel him beating at his inner demons. And I know why.

  “Your father—”

  “Isn’t going to die and as far as I’m concerned, that’s a damn shame.”

  With that cold, but highly justified remark, the waitress appears and places our food in front of us. Soon I’m staring at a plate of delicious smelling pasta topped with sauce and cheese that matches Eric’s. As silly as it might seem, I love that we ordered the same thing. I love that we connect on everyday things, that he’s a man, not just a savant, with favorite foods and movies and a past history of pain, love, and success. I want to know that person. I want to know all of him.

  He watches me eagerly while I sample the food, and the apt way he waits for my approval of his favorite place here in this city charms me. The way his eyes light as I offer my approval, lights me, too, inside and out. I love this man. I hate what this family has done to him but I make no mistake by seeing him as defeated. He isn’t. He’s battling what to do. He’s battling with his demons and if they win, people get hurt. A lot of them deserve it, even my mother, and that hurts me.

  We finish up our meal and we are heady with the passion in the air, the weight of wine and food in our bodies. “Let’s go shopping,” he says, and this sends a flare of worry through me.

  He pays the bill and helps me out of the booth, helping me with my coat. Once it’s in place, I turn and watch him shrug into his, my fingers catching his lapels. “I can’t spend your money. I have enough to get by until—”

  He kisses me. “You’re going to have to get used to all this money, baby. And we’re going to get you started now.” He doesn’t give me time to argue. He leads me through the cozy, dimly-lit restaurant and we step outside into a chilly night, bustling with people. “Shopping and then this ice cream spot I love.”

  “And then the gym,” I laugh, “because if I eat like this, nothing we buy will fit.”

  “We have a full gym in the apartment. I’ll show you a few days from now. Right now,” he leans in and whispers, “You can work out on me.”

  My cheeks heat, right along with my body, and it’s not long before I have bags of clothing that I try to fight him on, but he just starts buying things. I finally give up. He seems to need me to spend this money and I’m not sure why. The one shop we both enjoy is Victoria’s Secret. I’m guilty about all the purchases but that one. That one is for both of us. By way of a hired driver we pick up after the shopping trip, we end up at an ice cream shop not far from the apartment, which is perfection considering it has a gas fireplace and coffee as well. Eric and I have ice cream and he makes a few calls on the NFL deal and sets up meetings for tomorrow instead of tonight. This spurs us to talk about Bennett Enterprises and where I might fit into the picture. He sends a text to Mia and Grayson, and before I know it, we have a couple’s breakfast planned to talk about how Mia made working for her husband—well, work. Mia and I even talk on the phone a few minutes while Eric grabs us coffees. We settle in, side by side, on a soft, oversized chair, with coffee by the fireplace.

  And finally, finally, I feel Eric’s readiness, and even need, to talk about the deeper subjects in the air, but before I can broach any topic he does it himself.

  “Why,” he says, “when I hate him this much, can you be right about what I feel?”

  “I am not sure what you mean,” I reply cautiously, setting my coffee down and rotating to face him.

  “At some point,” he says, setting his coffee down and lifting my leg over his, “you said that no matter what, he’s my last living parent. You said that the idea of losing him would affect me.”

  “And it does?” I prod gently.

  “It does. I don’t know why the fuck it does, Harpe
r. I considered killing him. I hate him. He took my mother from me and yet, hearing that he had another heart attack, it punched at me. And I hate him all over for making me feel anything but hate.”

  “Maybe it’s not about him,” I say, thinking of what I know of Eric, what I’ve learned about what matters to him. “Maybe it’s about your mother, about him being the only connection to her. You two are the only two people in the world that share her. Maybe losing him, in some part of your mind, heart, and or soul, registers that as losing more of her.”

  His broad chest expands on a breath that he slowly inhales. “My mother doesn’t know how many times and ways she’s saved that man.”

  “What was Isaac’s mother like?”

  “I don’t know. I never asked. She died before I ever came into the picture, at least from the standpoint of the family knowing me. I believe that’s why my mother was willing to come forward. She wasn’t around to be hurt.”

  A really crazy thought occurs to me. “How did she die?”

  “I don’t know. Never cared enough to ask. Why?”

  “Let’s find out,” I say. “Can Blake find out for us?”

  “What are you thinking, Harper?”

  “Nothing I’m ready to say out loud. Not yet.”

  Maybe not ever because it’s completely insane, but then, so is this family.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Harper

  Eric sends a text about Isaac’s mother to Blake. When he’s done, he slides his phone into his pocket and picks up his coffee, his strong hand and long fingers, wrapping the heavy white ceramic mug. The colorful tattoos inking his forearms draw my attention, the letters and numbers telling a story of this man, and I want to understand every piece of the puzzle that is his life.

  Eric sips his coffee and sets it back down. “You think Isaac’s mother was murdered?”