“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
“Yes.” I kiss Harper and hike her leg over my hips, enjoying the warmth of her skin, needing her as close as possible.
Her hand travels down my torso, wrapping around the base of my cock. “Maybe you need some assistance to calm down.”
Before I can tell Harper I’m too angry to have sex, she climbs on top of me, sinking onto my dick.
“Fuck, Harper.” I clutch her thighs, gasping at the sudden rush of pleasure she gives me.
And just like that, all anger disappears as I watch my woman ride me. All the shit Tyler said about Harper needing both of us to be happy vanishes from my mind.
Harper and I reach our climax together, panting and sweating. We come hard then collapse into a deep sleep of tangled limbs.
An hour later, I wake to the sound of Harper crying.
Shit. She’s trembling in my arms.
“Harper, what’s wrong?” Panicked, I turn the bedside light on in a hurry. “Harper?—”
She’s… asleep.
A painful sleep, with her eyes clenched tight and her skin clammy, like the night I snuck into her bedroom before the engagement party.
“Harper, wake up,” I whisper, gently shaking her.
Her eyes blink open, fluttering and adjusting to the lamp. She’s disorientated. “Felix? What… What’s wrong?”
“You’re safe. Everything is okay. You were having a bad dream.”
She wipes her face, feeling her tear-streaked cheeks, then sits up in an instant, breathing fast. Her words are flustered. “I’m sorry. This is so embarrassing.”
“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to feel embarrassed for. What were you dreaming about?”
“I…” She looks around herself, trying to gain her bearings. “I don’t know. Nothing. There were no dreams.”
I pull Harper onto my lap and kiss her forehead, attempting to soothe her. She had to be dreaming about something traumatic for her body to break out in a panic.
“You can tell me anything, Harper.”
“Really, I don’t know what the dream was. I’m fine. Maybe I’m stressed about opening night.”
Harper read me well when I stormed into our home angry, lying about Tyler. I can read her well too. For whatever reason, she’s not being honest with me about the dream.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
FELIX
The red poker chip.
I retrieve it from the desk in my office and take a seat, remembering the night I stole it from a speakeasy with Tyler when I was nineteen.
The house always wins.I read the inscription on one side, flipping it over to see the rest.Except when we play.
The same words are written on Tyler’s Zippo lighter, stolen the same night. A brotherly pact. A promise that we would open a speakeasy together.
Once the three of us ended, I tossed the poker chip away on a beach out of anger, knowing our brotherhood was over. Before leaving the beach, I slipped the chip back into my pocket.
I don’t know why I’ve kept it all this time or why I’m holding it now. Perhaps because I have a meeting with Mitchel Gregor tonight—the potential developer to help expand The Scarlet Mirage.
