“So what appealed to you? You’re so close to work here,” I ask, pushing the subject.
“I wanted somewhere more private. No shared walls or floors. A place to live with a wife.”
I contemplate my next question for a few seconds and end up throwing care to the wind. “So you knew Harlow then? When you bought the place?”
James’ face becomes expressionless. The smugness marking his sick mug has vanished. Even his skin tone appears whiter.
“Well, I bought it with hope.” Shuffling on his feet, he thrusts his fingers through his hair and I make a mental fist pump for rattling him. “Hope that one day, I would meet someone like Harlow and make her my wife.”
So much implied and left unsaid. Someone like Harlow, as in lost, scared, and in need of a savior—at least in his eyes. But did he know of her before? What would take him from the cardiac floor of the hospital where he treats patients awaiting heart transplants to the active chaos of the ER?
I take a deep breath and send the last bit of caution I have in me sailing through the air. “How did you two meet?” Again, James ruffles his hair and begins to walk away from me.
“Long story. Better left for another day,” James deflects, flashing his charmed smile at me. It signals my question will remain unanswered. Dammit.
“Gotcha.” I lower the tension by dropping the subject. No need to poke the bear.
“Let me show you around.” James starts toward the open kitchen and highlights the stocked fridge. “I had it stocked by my housecleaner.”
“Cool,” I say, but I imagine the food will go to waste. After Harlow leaves him, I will be out the door in a flash and off to who knows where. My guess would be back to Manhattan. But the thought of leaving Harlow here alone in Rochester to fend for herself makes me uneasy.
Never seeing her beautiful eyes shine with happiness at me or watching the sunlight catch her golden hair leaves me hollow and sad. She found a way inside my heart when I was least expecting it. What’s that quote? “Life is what happens when you’re not looking for it.” As cheesy as it sounds, I can’t dismiss it. This attraction to Harlow was the last thing I anticipated when I walked off the plane a few days ago. Life has thrown me a curveball in the form of a beautiful woman I can’t say no to and will do anything to help.
James rattles on about the penthouse as we weave through the living area. He claims the artwork alone cost him over a million dollars and I roll my eyes. Nothing he says now will ever impress me.
“Here’s the master. I guess you can stay here.” How thoughtful of him. Jerk.
“Cool.” I crush any sarcasm, but damn it’s hard to hold back with him.
The bedroom screams bachelor pad. Dark hardwood furniture with gray bedding showcases everything with a masculine feel. Definitely not a place to bring a wife.
A modern painting hangs above the bed and doubles as a headboard. It portrays a blond woman lying on her side, facing away from my view. Her backside remains uncovered in all its glory. Soft hued skin appears shadowed. Her arm sits relaxed over the top of her hip. I trace the curve of her spine and immediately think of Harlow tied down on the dining table. The painted woman mimics Harlow’s body and its delicate curves. A cold chill runs through me. I have to know how long James has owned this work of art.
“That’s some painting. When did you acquire it?” I move closer to the piece to inspect it and James moves to stand beside me.
“It’s my masterpiece.” James closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, like he is savoring his words. “I commissioned it last year.”
I feel more than a chill this time. The blood in my veins turns to ice. I may not be able to prove it, but I believe his obsession with Harlow started before the night they met in the hospital. At this point, does it matter? Making sure it doesn’t continue is my focus.
“The woman is breathtaking,” I say in true awe.
“She truly is,” James says with a sigh. It’s likely the only point we will ever agree on. He shakes his head to undo the portrait’s power over him and walks toward the master bedroom closet. I stay standing near the headboard.
“I have to put a few things away. Safekeeping.” He removes the folders still tucked under his arm and disappears behind the closet door. He leaves the door slightly cracked and I have a sliced view of him as he crouches down. I hear a few beeps and clicking, then a safe’s door swings into sight. The door looks heavy and at least three feet tall.
Why does he have the safe here versus his house? I want to know what he has hidden inside, so I inch closer to the door. Before I can get a better vantage point, I watch James push the heavy door closed. Shit.
I wait for James to exit the closet before I ask him about the safe. “Hiding a pirate’s booty in there?” I tease in hopes he will cough up a few details, though it would be against his normal pattern.
“Nay, matey.” James snorts at his own joke while I laugh at him. “Odds and ends. Personal papers.”