Page 43 of Broken Blades

Harrington stood in the hallway. Suitcase still in hand. Knuckles white around the handle.

Chastity positioned herself beside him. Silent. Waiting.

I stepped back half an inch. Enough for her to pass. Not enough for him.

"Harrington."

His eyes narrowed. "You will not touch her."

I raised a brow. Let a slow smile curve across my mouth. Nothing friendly about it.

"I don't know." I looked at Chastity deliberately. Not a sexual appraisal. Something worse. Something that said I already owned the next thirty days, and we both knew it. "She might beg me to." Beat. "I'll make sure you walk in on that."

Harrington's face drained of color. Then flushed red. "You're disgusting."

I shrugged. "You handed her to me. I'm not the disgusting one here."

He flinched—barely, just a microscopic crack in his composure—but I caught it. Filed it away for later use.

Beside him, Chastity sucked in a breath. Shocked. Like she hadn't expected me to say it out loud. Like she hadn't expected him to stand there and take it.

Harrington straightened. Tried to reclaim some authority he'd already surrendered the moment he agreed to this. "You do anything inappropriate⁠—"

I cut him off. Voice sharp now. Done playing. "One month. I keep her name clean. You walk away with your merger. Don't pretend this is anything but transactional."

His jaw clenched. Worked. Ground down whatever he wanted to say. Then he looked at his daughter. Something passed across his face. Conflict. Guilt. Maybe even regret. He said tightly, "Call me if you need anything."

Her voice came out barely above a whisper. "Okay."

Harrington hesitated.

I watched. Waited. Expected him to fight. To refuse. To take her hand and drag her back to the car. To tell me to go to hell and deal with the consequences.

But he didn't.

He just turned. Walked down the front steps. Got into his car. And left.

The taillights disappeared down the driveway.

I stared after them. "…Huh." I genuinely hadn't expected that. Thought he'd make more noise. Put up more resistance. Demand contract amendments or oversight or weekly check-ins. But he just… folded. Walked away from his daughter like she was a signed invoice.

Chastity stood frozen in my hallway. Suitcase at her feet. Face blank with something I couldn't quite name. Betrayal, maybe. Or worse—confirmation of something she'd already suspected.

The silence stretched. I closed the door. The lock clicked into place. Loud in the quiet. She didn't turn around. Just stood there. Staring at the wood grain where her father had been moments before.

I moved past her. Grabbed her suitcase without asking permission.

"I'll show you your room." My voice came out flatter than I intended.

She finally looked at me. Eyes hard. Brittle. "He left." Not a question. A statement. Like she needed to say it out loud to make it real.

I met her gaze. Didn't soften it. "Yeah."

She swallowed. "You threatened me in front of him."

"I did."

"And he still left."