The storm rattled against the windows while we spoke, sleet striking the glass like tiny darts. I could see the glaze forming, the world outside frosting over in real time. The weather was miserable, but somehow, it seemed to cocoon us in this bubble where only us and the deal existed.
I shivered, but I’d mostly warmed up in front of the fire and I strode over to him, hesitating for just a beat before I kicked off my shoes once I sat down next to him. Our shoulders were angled toward each other, the laptop and the files between us.
“The attorneys want to meet. With me, you, and my father,” he explained, his expression uncharacteristically serious as his gaze held mine. “If the client finds out we’re working together, he might panic. Think we’re somehow plotting against him.”
“Or he might take it as proof that we’re serious,” I countered. “Think about it. Two families, two powerhouses, both willing to bankroll him out of this mess? It could reassure him that he’s making the right move.”
Harrison arched an eyebrow. “Do you really think he cares about the right move? He’s an idiot. He’ll squander whatever lifeline we throw him just like he lost everything else.”
I laughed under my breath. “True, but that’s not our problem. We just need him to sign the papers. What he does with the money after that isn’t our business.”
We leaned over to look at the document open on his laptop at the same time, our shoulders brushing. I pretended not to notice the spark that zipped through me, focusing instead on the numbers. Outside, the rain clattered harder against the glass, like the weather gods themselves were determined to keep us forced into close proximity tonight.
For once, I really didn’t mind. I glanced at him. “What about your dad? Does he know I’m the investor?”
Harrison shook his head, but didn’t look at me. “I haven’t told him yet. Also, I don’t want to scare you, but Harlan would steamroll a meeting like this. He’ll eat you alive if you try to go against him in any way. So yeah, he’s definitely part of the situation, but I really am worried about the client’s reaction when he realizes we’re working together.”
One second, our gazes were locked and apprehension was racing down my spine and the next, darkness fell. The entire townhouse went silent except for fire crackling and the sleet hammering the windows.
I froze, my hand still on the papers open on the table. “Um. Is that…?”
“Power outage.” His voice was low and calm. “It must be getting really bad out there.”
I turned my gaze toward the hallway, but while the main room was cast in deep orange glow from the flames, the rest of the house seemed to be a complete void. “Tell me your eyesight is as good as your so-called impeccable hearing.”
“Sadly, no, but I think I’ve got a few candles. If I have any, they’ll be upstairs. I’ve got some more wood for the fire too. Not much, but enough for a couple hours.”
“Youthinkyou have candles?”
“I’m an optimist,” he said lightly, then the flashlight on his phone went on, a harsh white beam slicing across his annoyingly perfect grin.
I pulled my phone out too, mimicking him as I stood. “Lead the way, Westwood, but if I fall on my face, you’re paying my medical bills.”
“Done,” he said, and I heard the smug smile in his voice as we started up the stairs. “I’ll even sign your cast if you break something.”
Harrison’s steps were easy and confident while I trailed behind him, muttering every time my socked foot slipped on the polished wood.
“You know,” he said conversationally, “I’m pretty sure this place is haunted.”
I nearly tripped on the next stair. “Do. Not. Say. That.”
“Why not?” He glanced back, the flashlight catching the gleam of mischief in his eyes. “You don’t have to be scared. I’ll protect you.”
“There’s only one thing I don’t mess with, and that’s ghosts.”
He grinned. “Noted. I probably shouldn’t tell you about the footsteps I hear at night, then?”
I glared at the back of his head when he faced forward again. “Harrison fucking Westwood. Ghosts are going to be the least of your problems if you carry on like that.”
He laughed, and by the time we reached the upstairs closet, he was still chuckling. He dug around, but finally found an armful of candles. “See? I told you. Optimist.”
We shuffled back down and finally lit the candles. Warm light flickered across the table, bouncing off the walls and softening the edges of everything on our side of the room. The storm still battered the glass, but inside, it felt different.
Quieter. Colder, too. The fire was only helping so much.
Harrison blew out a long breath, looking out at the storm through the window. “You’re not going anywhere tonight.”
I folded my arms. “Excuse me?”
