Trapped with Mr. Walker

THE NEXT FEW DAYS pass by in a blur of meetings. I take part in two press interviews, and one photo opportunity at the opening of a new community garden, which I tell Harley she doesn’t need to attend with me. If she’s upset by my lack of interaction with her, then she hasn’t shown it. In fact, I’ve barely seen her. Although, that is mostly on my part. I’ve been leaving early and eating out with business contacts the last three nights to give her space.

To give us both space.

The thought of seeing how little she thinks of me is too much. It’s taken three days to accept it. To steel myself for it happening again. To prepare.

I’ve been an idiot. I thought asking her to play the role for the press was a wise decision. We already knew each other, and her job as a honey trapper meant she knew how to act the part.

Act.

I snort at my choice of word. I wish it were as simple for me as it has been for her. The only act I’ve managed to keep up in her presence is one of an asshole, who clearly can’t be trusted, judging by her reaction the other night.

I throw my pen down on top of the paperwork I’ve strewn across the coffee table. I finished up with Stuart after lunch today and decided to head back and work from the apartment instead. I wanted to be here when Harley returns home after work. Despite realizing how little she thinks of me and my promises, and how quick she is to expect the worst from me, I still want to see her. I crave to see her. Something that I’m only just realizing, yet no closer to fully understanding.

The last three days have been utter shit. She texted me to tell me she was sorry the first day when I didn’t come home until she was already in bed. Then she texted each day since, telling me what’s been happening at work and asking if she will see me that night. I’ve replied, but my messages have been curt and to the point.

What can I possibly say? She’s made her mind up. I will always be that person in her eyes. The one who only cares about himself.

My phone beeps, and I click to open the message. It’s a gif of a skunk, its tail in the air as it sprays. Underneath it is the caption, Something stinks. I look at the added text below.

Just like my attitude the other night. I did overreact, and I’m sorry. H.

Three dots appear to show she’s still typing, and then more text appears.

I’ve finished work early. If you aren’t snowed under, can we catch up?

The sound of the front door opening and closing echoes from the hallway, and I rise to my feet at the sound of keys being dropped onto the hall table, followed by a weary sigh.

“Hi, Bruce. Hi, Beryl,” a gentle voice says.

I can’t help but smile as she talks to the plants. It hasn’t escaped my attention that Beryl, the bushy little thing, is happy as a pig in shit since Harley brought it home. It’s even sent out these new little shoots, spilling over the sides of the pot in all directions, like a happy ending massage without the obligatory well-timed flannel.

“You both look happy, as though you’ve had a good day. Better than mine, I bet,” she continues, causing the smile to melt off my face at the melancholy in her voice. She’s never sounded so lackluster, so… un-Harley.

She walks into the open living area in her pink fluffy slippers, her eyes cast down. For a moment, I think she’s going to walk right past in the direction of her bedroom, but then she freezes and sucks in a breath.

“You’re here?” Her eyes light up momentarily before they dim, a worried frown appearing on her face where her usual smile would be.

This is all my fault.

I should never have asked her to pretend to be in a relationship with me. To move in and put on a show. All it’s done is cause trouble. And looking at her now, her usual sparkle gone, I can see how selfish I’ve been to drag her into it. So what if she thinks I’m a player she can’t trust? I deserve it. I shouldn’t have let it get to me. I should never have taken it out on her.

It hurt like a motherfucker knowing that’s how she views me, how she will probably always view me. Some stupid part of me hoped she wouldn’t care about the past. But I know that’s naïve. Everyone has a past. And even though we try, some days we can’t escape it, no matter how deep we bury that shit.

And I’ve dug deeper than most to forget mine.

“How are you?” She walks toward me slowly as I round the coffee table to meet her halfway.

“Okay. You?”

We stop in front of one another, and she chews on her bottom lip as if she’s searching for the right words.

I can provide her with some suitable options. Asshole. Jerk. Prick.

“This apartment feels really big without you,” she says after a moment’s hesitation.

I draw in a deep breath as she looks up at me through her lashes, her eyes searching mine. The remorse in them steals my breath and all I can do is look at her. Look at her and wish I wasn’t the reason for the lack of brightness they usually hold.

“I’m so—”

“Don’t. You’ve said it enough. There’s nothing to be sorry for. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did.”

“You were angry that I jumped to conclusions. I get it, Reed. I assumed. I judged you when I had no reason to. No right to.”

The empathy in her voice cuts into me, like a guilt-laced sword, straight to the heart. She’s right. I was angry. But most of all, I was gutted. Gutted at the realization that’s how she sees me. Still.

She glances at my paperwork on the table and then back at me. “I keep getting you wrong, don’t I? First about Bea, and then—”

“It’s fine,” I reply softly.

“It’s not fine.” The next thing I know she’s throwing her arms around my neck and pulling me to her. “I’m sorry. I really am. I know you better than that. I’ve just spent the last couple of years surrounded by men thinking with their dicks and ruining everything.” Her voice shakes with emotion. “Please forgive me.”

I sink my nose into her hair and inhale the scent of coconut as I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly.

She feels so good in my arms.

Her hands slide up the back of my neck into my hair and she sighs as she sinks into me.

“After my brother, you’re the closest male friend I have. I’ve missed you.” Her soft lips graze my neck as she speaks, and it takes all my strength to fight to keep my dick from moving.

“You missed me?”

“I really did.” She sniffs, her fingers stroking the back of my neck.

“And you still want to be my friend?” I murmur into her hair. Friend. The word causes my heart to sink in my chest.

“Uh-huh.” She tightens her grip on me. “I do.”

“Even though I can be a giant dick at times?”

I hear the smile in her voice as she says, “Have you ever seen a video of a snake swallowing an egg?”

“A what?”

She giggles and her breasts rub against my chest with the motion.

“No, I’ve never… Fuck, have you been sneaking some of that chemical plant food you give Bruce?”

She giggles harder, and I grin into her hair as I lock my arms around her waist, soaking her up.

God, I’ve missed her, too. Her and her adorable weirdness.

“But now I have to see,” I murmur against her ear, noticing the way she shivers before she laughs again. “Show me.”

“Okay.” She swallows down her laugh, and I let her go.

The two of us relax into the sofa cushions together, and I spend the next half hour watching her face light up as she shows me video after video of animals doing silly shit. Each one seems to bring another part of her back until she’s beaming and looking as radiant as the Harley I would recognize with a mere glance in any lifetime.

Neither of us mentions the other night again.

And I certainly don’t tell her it was her pink lips I was imagining wrapped around me seconds before my dick exploded with enough cum to fill the Hudson.

There are exceptions… Some things really should be left in the past.

“This place is beautiful. You can’t tell Griffin,” Harley whispers as we walk into the elegant ballroom.

Giant chandeliers are suspended from the ceiling, and there’s a colossal champagne tower on a large circular table as we enter.

“I’ve always wondered what the point of those is. I mean, how do you even take a glass without knocking the whole thing over? It’s like this giant beautiful thing that no one knows how to use properly. What a waste.”

“Some people know what to do with big, beautiful things.”

She laughs and pushes my chest with her free hand, the other wrapped firmly around my bicep. “What, your big book of bad jokes, you mean?”

“Of course. What did you think I meant?”

She looks up at me and grins, her eyes sparkling. Ever since our make up the other day, things have gone from better to incredible. She’s been happy and carefree, laughing easily and flitting around the apartment in her slippers, leaving pink fluffy glitter all over place. The nights we haven’t been out to dinner together, she’s curled up next to me on the sofa while I’ve looked over legislations and statistics. I’ve caught her looking at me, watching me read. But if I look up, she pretends to be engrossed in her own reading. She’s working her way through a few books that Maria’s grandmother sent over from England. Romance books with half naked men on the front. Maybe they’re the real reason she’s smiling, and it’s nothing to do with me at all.

Either way, I’m grateful.

She’s Harley again.

“What’s he like?” Her eyes cast around the packed room, full of government officials, high ranking members of the military, and their partners.

It’s been a full-on day of meetings, talks, seminars. I met the president earlier today, but since then I have only seen him from afar.

“A few inches shorter than me, gray hair, suit. Security detail watching his every move.”

“Idiot.” She giggles. “I mean, what’s he like?”

“Oh, what’s he like?” I mimic her as she rolls her eyes at me. I chuckle and draw her closer, pressing a kiss into her hair, which is swept up into a fancy style at the back of her head. It’s second nature now. I do it without even thinking about whether it’s necessary, whether anyone is watching. “Well, I only spoke to him face to face briefly this morning. But he seems… composed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harley smiles as a passing waiter pauses by us and offers us both a flute of champagne.

“It means.” I clink my glass against hers. “He’s very aware of what he’s doing. Very calculated, measured. Always noticing, always assessing. I can tell he’s a man that knows what he wants and goes after it. Good traits to have as the President of the United States.”

“Hm.” Harley sounds unimpressed as her gaze roams the room. “You should have asked him about Lincoln. I bet that would have been more interesting.”

“I’m not going to ask the president about his dog the first time I meet him.”

“Why not?” She blinks up at me, her eyes round. “People love talking about their animals. I’m going to ask him if I meet him tonight.”

“You do that.” I chuckle.

Harley gazes around the room again, catching eyes with someone and giving them a dazzling smile.

“Oh. There’s Kristen.”

I follow her eyes to the Head of National Security’s wife, who is smiling back at us.

“We got talking in the spa this afternoon,” Harley explains. “If I’d known these events could be so much fun, I would have dated New York’s Mayor years ago.”

“Dennis Vincent?”

Harley wrinkles her nose up at my mention of the previous New York Mayor, who left under suspicious circumstances amid allegations of pardoning a known drug lord following a covert raid. Rumors have it that he’s been aiding the head of the crime ring throughout his two terms in office. But conveniently, there hasn’t been enough evidence to make the shit stick.

“New York’s going to be so lucky to have you, Reed,” she says with a serious expression.

“Got to win it first.”

“You will.” She nods before sipping her champagne. “I have faith in you.”

Her choice of words renders me mute for a moment before she slides her other hand free of my arm and waves to Kristen, who is looking in our direction.

“Reed, I told Kristen I would talk about Bonsai trees with her. She’s having terrible trouble getting hers to settle since they moved house.”

“Go.” I smile, tipping my glass at her. “I’ll fend for myself.”

“Don’t you want to come?”

“And hear all about Bruce’s branch murdering scissors of doom? No, thank you. I still hear the snipping in my nightmares.”

Harley’s face erupts into a huge grin as she shakes her head at me. “Reed Walker, if I didn’t know better, I could have sworn I heard you talking to Bruce last night before you went to bed.”

“You’re hearing things.” I flatten my lips into a straight line to hide my smirk.

“Fine.” She reaches up and kisses me on the cheek. “I know the truth, plant lover,” she whispers in my ear before she turns and walks across the room.

The satin from her deep pink dress skims over the curve of her ass, flowing all the way down to the floor. She doesn’t wear her hair up often, but this dress calls for it. It has a high neckline at the front, finishing at her throat, but then the back is missing. There’s literally no fabric between the strap around her neck and the lowest point of her back. I can see the dip of her spine and the cinch of her waist, her smooth skin on full display. I glance around the room, heat building beneath my collar as at least four other pairs of eyes follow her.

Keep your eyes to yourselves, fuckers.

I spend some time moving around the room, talking to people, and am in deep in conversation with Harry Ellston, ribbing him about his dildo factory office again when the hairs rise on the back of my neck, the way they do when your body knows some shit is about to go down.

“Reed?”

I grit my teeth and give Harry an apologetic smile and nod as I turn my attention to the source of the voice.

“Bea. I thought I may see you here. Where’s Graham?” I ask, referring to my less than honorable opponent. I would much rather talk old dildos with Harry Ellston all night than entertain that sneaky bastard’s company for one second. And judging by the grunt Harry makes, I know I’m not alone in my preferences. The fact that Graham’s from the Republican party, the same as Dennis Vincent, further reduces his standing in my eyes. I’ve seen the two of them together, laughing and joking like old pals. And with men like them, that is never a good thing.

“Oh, he’s around. Networking.” Bea smiles, her deep red lipstick like a survival marking, a warning to predators that she’s poisonous when provoked. “He needs to get to know everyone for when he’s elected.”

My shoulders stiffen, and I bark out a humorless laugh. “Now, Bea. Don’t go ruining it for the rest of us. Let us think we at least have a chance.”

“Like the chance the president thinks he has with your girlfriend tonight?” She grins at me wickedly, flicking her eyes to the far end of the bar, where Harley is tucked away, almost hidden from view behind a pillar, masculine fingers stroking the bare skin on her back.

“Excuse me,” I snap, side-stepping Bea as she smirks, striding across the ballroom, avoiding eye contact with the people who try to catch my attention.

The smarmy fucker’s voice is dripping with superiority sleaze as I approach.

“You’re a beautiful woman. Pink really is your color. You wear it so well.”

I can’t hear Harley’s response. But I don’t miss the way she leans away, trying to peel her spine away from his lingering hand. But he’s got her cornered, the bar to one side of her, the pillar to another. She can’t move out of his reach.

“You know. I have lots of photographs of Lincoln in my suite. Why don’t I show you? The party won’t miss us for half an hour.” His hand slides lower, pressing against where the fabric starts again. A few more inches and his hand will be on her ass. Her back flexes and her muscles stiffen at his touch.

Rage explodes in my chest like dynamite thrown into a furnace, and I reach forward and grasp his wrist in my hand, sliding in next to Harley as I close my other hand around his and grip it.

Hard.

“Mr. President, Reed Walker, running independently for New York Mayor.” I shake his hand, squeezing it between both of mine as my eyes fix on his. His pupils widen before he regards me coolly. “We met this morning. You told me how interested you were to hear more about my research into the NYPD’s statistics. Specifically, those around harassment and assault, and how I plan to increase the number of cases successfully making it to trial.” I give him a measured smile as he holds my gaze.

“Yes. I recall. Nice to talk to you again.” His eyes slide to Harley, who’s moved to my side.

I tighten my grip on his hand so his eyes return to mine. “Where is the First Lady this evening?”

“She felt unwell and didn’t accompany me.” The president’s smile is tight as I finally release his hand.

“That’s such a shame. Please give her our regards.” I wrap my arm around Harley, my palm curling around to cup her hip, and note the way his eyes narrow as he follows my movement.

“I will, thank you. And thank you, Ms. Jacobs.” He looks at Harley, who meets his gaze, her face emotionless. “I enjoyed our chat.” His attention moves to behind us and he tips his head at someone. “Please, excuse me.”

I turn to Harley as he walks off.

“You okay?”

She looks up at me, her eyes steely. “Win this election, Reed. Do whatever it takes. And then go after his job next. Men like him should never be in positions of power.”

“They shouldn’t, you’re right.” I search her face, looking for a trace of the unease I expected to see. But all I find is pure, focused determination.

“Good.” She blows out a tense breath. “Now let’s go meet more people… and get another drink.”

She wraps her arm around mine, and a wave of complete admiration washes over me as I see a new facet of the sparkling diamond that is Harley Jacobs.

Belief.

Belief and hope in a system that is corrupt on so many levels. But that also has people within it who are true, honorable warriors fighting for the same things.

Equality. Justice. Peace.

And so much more.

Things I gave up daring to hope for on the darkest days of my past.