James’ stern voice booms as he eyes the table where our hands are connected. We’ve been caught in an intimate moment that looks bad from his perspective. Harlow quickly releases my hand and I sit up straight.
James pulls Harlow from her chair and draws her against his chest in a tight embrace. He kisses her on the top of her head and glares daggers down at me. I don’t miss the silent question. He wants to know what the fuck I was doing touching her. I can’t believe I’m thirty seconds into seeing him and we’re already in a pissing contest.
He thinks she’s his, but I wonder if he’s worthy enough to be hers.
“How’s my beautiful girl? You’ve had quite the day.” He glides his hands lower on her back, where my hand touched her earlier.
“Hey, James.” I pause, trying to smile as if I mean it, but it’s hard. I reach out my hand in hopes he takes his off her. “I’m thinking about ordering another drink.”
“Hi, Sin.” James releases his hold on Harlow and shakes my hand. “Another drink, huh? I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” He turns to Harlow. “How many have you had, love? You smell like vodka.”
“The server spilled a dirty martini. Went all over her dress,” I say, jumping in to defend Harlow.
“I’ve had two.” Harlow lowers herself awkwardly onto her chair and James takes one of her hands in his as he bends down toward her, caressing her cheek. He pushes a lone strand of hair behind her ear. The light touch of his fingers trails along her jaw line, lifting her chin so their eyes meet.
“We discussed the martinis, remember? I think it’s time to get you home.” His tone leaves no room for argument. I’m seeing the do-as-I-say James with her, and I don’t fucking care for it one bit. He comes across as a complete and utter ass.
“James … um, do we have to leave?” Harlow begs in a childlike tone.
“Yes. You’ve had a lot to drink and a busy day, one we need to discuss when we get home.” His decision makes her pouty lips stick out even more—a sweet and sexy casualty of her pleading.
I throw a few hundred dollars down on the table, knowing it will cover the food and tip I promised Jonathan. We exit without running in to him, so my cover and lies aren’t exposed.
“I parked next to you, Harlow.” He walks toward her car with his arm around her waist.
James places a drunk Harlow into his Mercedes sedan as I watch by the front of the car. I’m guessing I’ll be driving Harlow’s car home. James closes her door and walks up to me. His glare has softened around his eyes, but his jaw remains tense—stretched.
“Thanks so much for letting me stay with you,” I say, trying to break the tension between us.
He puts his hands into his gray pants pockets and eyes me. “Listen, I’m sorry about tonight when you—”
“Hold it, Sinclair,” he interrupts, raising his hand to me. “I think it would be better if we discussed it later. Believe me, this isn’t the first time someone I know has been attracted to Harlow.” Maybe this explains why he keeps her locked up, but how can he be so insecure and horrible to someone he loves?
“Okay, but I promise it wasn’t what it looked like.”
“Like I said, we’ll talk back at the house. Just you and me.” He jiggles something in his pocket then hands me the keys to Harlow’s car. “How many have you had tonight?”
“Just one Jack.”
“Okay. Follow me home and stay close behind.”
We drive through the town and before I know it, we’re out in the middle of nowhere. I hardly see a car on the street or a side road. And I thought the town looked deserted; it feels like I’m in Timbuktu.
Per James’ request, I remain behind him, keeping my gaze on the back of his car since there isn’t anything else to look at. My headlights shine into the back window, giving me a clear view of their shadows … except I don’t see Harlow’s. Her shadow pops up between the two front seats and then moves back down as James pushes the back of her head … Shit.
The Mercedes starts to swerve back and forth a little and I come to one conclusion: he’s making a drunken Harlow give him a fucking blowjob.
I picture Harlow’s red lips around his cock with her head bobbing up and down and my stomach turns. Goddammit. After what Harlow has told me tonight, my uncle doesn’t deserve this beautiful woman, but there’s nothing I can do to make them stop. Gripping the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turn white and I grit my teeth, cursing for the next mile or two.
Harlow’s head reappears and James’ driving becomes normal again. That fucker. I want to say he took advantage of her, but I have to be honest with myself. I can’t count the number of times I’ve gotten road head from a tipsy girl.
James turns on his blinker and I follow suit. I look to the right and see a tall white fence with large brick posts every few feet. From what Harlow described, this has to be their place. She was right; it does look like a fortress.