: Chapter 33

“THEY’RE GETTING DESPERATE.” GRIFFIN’S lip curls in disgust as he cradles his glass of scotch.

We’re sat in the bar we always seem to end up in whenever shit gets serious. One with a deep rich interior of reds and browns, and a long bar lined with everything you need to drown your sorrows or put the world to rights. It’s not flashy. It smells of a mix of stained oak and roasted peanuts. But it’s unapologetic and doesn’t give a shit. It’s why we always end up here on nights like tonight. Nights when you need a friend to tell it to you straight. Or you need to remove yourself from all the pretentious shit that comes with being mayor, or New York’s youngest billionaire hotelier.

Nights when you just need to be fucking human.

This bar is our hidden oasis in the middle of the concrete jungle.

We’re even sitting in the same seats I remember being in when I talked some sense into Griffin’s ass after a fight with Maria all those months ago.

Now it’s my turn.

“It doesn’t mean they’ll follow through. You don’t have to do it, Reed.”

I lift my glass, staring at the honeyed liquid. I knew what I had to do the second Griffin told me about the texts and video. The second I understood what Harley has been dragged into. Knowing what this is doing to her, the power these assholes have over her… It brought memories crashing back to me. Memories I never thought I would have to face again. Not like this.

She’s trapped.

They’ve taken away her choice. She may think she’s the one who made it by leaving and trying to buy time. But she isn’t. They’ve held all the cards. Just like me thinking if I chose to forget about that night and leave it in the past, it would be enough.

And it was. For a long time.

But it’s not just about me anymore.

“I do.” I hold my glass to my lips, my eyes meeting Griffin’s over the rim. “I do have to do it.”

I knock the scotch back, savoring the warm burn, inching its way down to my stomach. I wasn’t planning on seeing Griffin again tonight. It’s been less than two hours since Stu and I left his apartment.

But blackmail doesn’t wear a watch.

Griffin shakes his head, rolling his lips over his teeth. “You always were a fucker when it came to principles.”

“I’m the one in control of my life. No one else.”

The barman refills our drinks without saying a word, then disappears to the other end of the bar.

“I know. I just wish there was another way.” Griffin glances at me, then grimaces as he looks back at his drink. His jaw clenches as he sucks in a breath. “You’re really okay about it?”

I cast my eyes over him. Over the tension pouring from him in waves. His shoulders are practically up by his ears from all the stiffness in them. And this is Griffin. I’ve known him since we were kids. He’s always been uptight. I’m so used to it that I don’t even notice anymore. But for me to see it in him tonight, worn so outwardly in every movement he makes.

It tells me something.

He’s the best fucking friend in the world.

What I’m planning to do bothers him. Really fucking bothers him.

But it’s because he cares. And he will support me no matter what. I have no doubt.

“I’m okay. I’m…” I run a hand around the back of my neck. “I’m better than okay. They need to know they can never intimidate me. I will never play their little bitch in Office. I didn’t get into politics to aid corrupt assholes.”

“I respect that, I do. I just want you to be all right, you know?”

I clap my hand on his back. “Knew you loved me.”

He smirks. “Yeah, whatever. Stuck with you for life more like. Making the best of it.” He side-eyes me, lifting his glass to his lips. “Only you could make a joke right now.”

“Would you rather I cry? Wipe my nose on your tie?”

“Fuck off,” he snorts into his glass, unconsciously running a hand down over his bird print tie.

I exhale heavily, feeling calmer than I have in days. I’m doing the right thing. I know it.

I feel it.

“It is what it is, Griff. I thought I knew what was important to me. But then—”

“I get it. I do. You’re a brave, crazy fucker. But I do get it. And I hope it plays out okay for you. I wish I knew for certain what will happen.”

I tilt my head, watching the barman clean up, as we’re the last two here.

“That’s life though. No one knows anything. Not for sure.”

“Guess not.”

We drink in silence for a few minutes. The calm before the storm.

“Show me the text again,” I say, draining my glass.

Griffin pulls Harley’s cell phone from his jacket pocket and hands it to me as he calls to the barman.

“Hey bud, you mind staying open a little later tonight? We have a friend joining us for a nightcap.”

The barman wanders over but before he has a chance to decline, Griffin slides a wad of bills over the polished wood. “If you can leave the bottle, too.”

The young guy’s eyebrows lift, and he pockets the cash in one fluid motion and places not one but two scotch bottles down in front of us.

“Enjoy, gentlemen.”

We watch him retreat, pulling his phone and a set of earbuds from his back jean pocket. The sound of rock music blares from them before he stuffs them in his ears and heads off into a room out the back.

“Best fucking bar on this island,” Griffin mutters as he refills his glass from one of the bottles.

I open the messages on Harley’s old phone, the pink glittery case making me smile. I’m still finding those fluffy threads from her slippers all over the damn apartment. But I look forward to it. I pretend it’s because she’s still there. That I’ll walk in after work and her eyes will light up, and she’ll giggle as I take her in my arms and attack her neck with my mouth. Kissing over her pulse point. Feeling her life. Her energy. Drinking her in.

Making her mine again and again.

Focus, Reed.

“What did Harley say when you told her?” Griffin asks as I tap on the most recent message on the phone to open it.

“I didn’t get that far. Suze and the kids came home.”

“You were gone long enough to talk to her. What were you doing?” Griffin looks at me, then shakes his head. “Right, of course.”

“Don’t judge me, okay?” I snap. “It’s a big part of our relationship. With everything that’s happened, I needed her. I don’t expect you to understand.” Heat fires across the back of my neck. I know I was meant to be there to tell Harley what I’m planning, but I just couldn’t control the urge to have her to myself. The second I saw her blue eyes all wide and trusting, needing me as much as I needed her.

“Don’t give me that shit.” Griffin’s glass clatters on the bar as he places it down heavily and turns his face to me, his eyes piercing into mine with incredible clarity for the number of drinks he’s had. “I was there, remember? I get it. I know what Harley has done for you. You’re getting fired at from all directions. But I’m on your side. I’ve always been on your side.”

I purse my lips and lift my chin toward him.

He’s right. I’m being a jerk. Griffin has seen me at my absolute worst. But it only made him focus on our friendship even more. I honestly don’t believe I would be here today if it weren’t for him.

“Sorry.”

He nods and drops his eyes to the phone, effectively accepting my apology and moving on. We’ve been through much worse together. The odd, pissed reaction to one another is nothing.

“They’re bluffing.”

“Maybe.” I scan the text again, even though I’ve read it half a million times since meeting up with Griffin.

Unknown: The public might be fools, but we aren’t. He will listen to you. George Yates must be selected, or the video gets posted on every social media site for the world to see. Do you want to be responsible for that? You have twenty-four hours.

“They don’t believe you aren’t together anymore.”

“We aren’t though.” I place the phone down and run one hand over the back of the other, cracking my knuckles.

She left.

“It’s someone who knows one or both of you to make that assumption. As far as the New York press are concerned, you two are being grieved like Romeo and fucking Juliet.” Griffin shakes his head with a humorless smile. “To think Harley could still influence your decision means they don’t believe the story. Who’s seen you together up close? Who would notice the way you are with each other? Because it’s a big assumption to make that she could have that much of an effect over you when you’ve only been ‘dating’ for a matter of months.”

“I don’t know.” I run my hand around my jaw, the days’ worth of growth covering my skin scratching against my fingertips. “Someone who was paying a lot of attention?”

“Exactly. Someone who is paying a lot of attention to your personal life… a lot of attention over the way you look at Harley. Someone who can recognize the connection you two have.”

Griffin retrieves his abandoned glass and takes a sip. “A woman,” he says as the glass leaves his lips.

I stare at the whiskey bottle as I process his words. He’s right. Who is more likely to notice the way I look at Harley? And the way she looks at me? A man might, but not to the same extent as a woman. A woman is more in tune to recognize those intimate moments between the two of us. Stolen glances when we’re separated at an event. The way Harley shivers and her cheeks flush when I whisper to her about how I can’t wait to drop to my knees and worship her when we get home. How I light up like a fucking Disney parade when she walks into a room.

A woman is more likely to recognize the signs of vulnerability created by the heart.

“I only know one woman who isn’t Harley or my family that knows about my past.” I look at Griffin, bile rising in my throat. “And that’s—”

“Call me a genius and bow to my feet,” Stuart shouts as he barges through the door to the bar looking triumphant, waving something around in his hand.

“Genius,” Griffin says dryly.

“I ain’t fucking kissing your feet.” I snort at Stuart as I grab the clean glass the barman left and pour him a large drink. “Here.” I hand it to him, and he pulls a bar stool around so he can sit and face me and Griffin.

“Thanks.” He knocks the entire thing back in one. “Ah, just what I needed.”

I pour him another as he brandishes a small bundle of papers in his hand like he’s discovered the Holy Grail.

“What’s that?” Griffin asks.

“This”—Stuart holds the folded papers up—“is something interesting I found out about our old friend, Dennis Vincent.”

We both look at him, waiting.

“I never dug into him too deeply before. I didn’t have to. I only do that with my clients and their opponents. I like to know as much about them and their pasts as possible.” He pauses to meet my eyes.

I’ve suspected George Yates and Dennis Vincent were corrupt bastards for years. Dennis vacating the mayor role suddenly before his term was up was suspicious, to say the least. Add to that the pardon Dennis served on a known criminal, as well as a multitude of other smaller crimes which never made it to trial, and you’ve got yourself one giant pie of corruption.

And it’s not one I want a slice of. Not now. Not ever.

I nod at Stuart to continue.

“But with recent events, I decided to apply my sleuth abilities to Dennis. It turns out cheating the city wasn’t the only betrayal of his. He’s been married to his wife for thirty years. But it seems Dennis also sent money to the same checking account every month for eighteen years. It stopped years before he took office as mayor, so there’s no reason for anyone to ask questions… Until now.”

“You think he was paying for a kid he’d had with another woman?” I ask, surprised.

“I don’t think. I know.” Stuart slams the papers down on the bar and we lean in, looking at the bank statements with month upon month of payments going to a woman named Kira Hutchings.

Hutchings.

“Graham?” I sit back sharply as things begin to slot into place.

“Yep.” Stuart nods before downing his second glass of scotch and smacking his lips together. “Hell, I needed that one too.”

“You think Dennis is Graham’s father?” Griffin scours the documents with a frown.

“Again, I don’t think. I know. And you’ve got friends who can find a birth certificate for us, haven’t you?” Stuart directs to Griffin, who rises from his seat in a flash, pulling his cell phone out of his jacket.

“Should we tell him it’s almost midnight?” Stuart looks after Griffin as he paces around the empty bar with his phone glued to his ear and one hand thrust into the pocket of his gray suit pants.

“No, he’s good.” I watch as Griffin nods and then says something else to the person on the other end of the line.

When Griffin Parker calls for a favor, people pick up. Midnight or not.

“So you think Dennis is behind this? And Graham? Father-son bonding they missed out on for all those years? I know, son. Let’s infiltrate the New York Office to cover up our own criminal relations.” I screw my face up, shaking my head. Despite the scotch adding a haziness, everything is beginning to turn a lot clearer.

“I know. Most people go fishing.” Stuart laughs, then looks to Griffin, who’s finished his call.

“We’ll have it within the hour.” He sits back down.

“Nice.” A smile spreads over Stuart’s face. “So now we know the who and the why. We just need to prove it. But we still don’t know the how. It obviously wasn’t personal. If you’d lost the election, they would have found something to manipulate the other person with.”

“I’m just the lucky unlucky one.” I snort.

I don’t consider myself a bad person. I have no scandalous hidden records or covered up history. Apart from that night. If it weren’t for that one incident, they would have struggled to find anything to use as leverage against me.

But it’s not even about that night anymore.

They turned this into a war when they brought Harley into it.

They should have tried to get to me directly. But it’s like Griffin said. Someone knew the best way to me was through her. Someone who has experience of reading my emotions. Who can recognize the way I look at Harley as being something special, because it is completely different from the way I ever looked at her.

A woman, like Griffin said.

Someone who knows about that night.

It can only be one person.

One person who conveniently is also dating Graham Hutchings.

Bea.

We don’t leave the bar until after one in the morning. It’s amazing how much you can plan with two bottles of top shelf scotch and three determined minds. By the time we roll out into the night, we’ve set the wheels well and truly in motion. Griffin could have gotten half of New York up if he wanted. But we decided to bide our time a few more hours to get it right. Dennis and Graham are weasels. And they’ll squirm their way out of a chokehold given half a chance.

I’m not giving them a fraction.

We don’t have enough evidence yet. Merely bank statements and a birth certificate, courtesy of Griffin’s friend, confirming that Dennis is Graham’s biological father. It’s hardly ground-breaking. These things happen all the time. But the fact that there is already so much suspicion and so many unanswered questions from the public surrounding Dennis’s departure from the mayor title plays to our advantage when he has a secret son who was in the running to be next to fill the role.

There will definitely be questions after the ‘anonymous’ tips to three of New York’s largest newspapers and the story will spread quickly.

And it will give us time to put the next parts of the plan into action.

“You speak to Harley yet?” Stuart asks as I put my earpiece in so I can hear him when I’m on stage.

“No. I tried. She was probably on the subway from Suze’s place with no service.”

I wish I had gotten a chance to speak to her first thing this morning like I intended to. But it didn’t connect, and since the city’s press began reporting on Dennis and Graham the second the sun rose, it has been hectic.

Stuart’s phone starts buzzing in his jacket and he pulls it out, answering on the second ring.

“Stuart Chambers, Office of Mayor Walker.”

Pause.

“He will be making a press announcement shortly, combined with a written statement. Thank you.”

He slides his phone back into his inside pocket.

“You’re in hot demand. That’s the seventeenth call I’ve had in the last thirty minutes. People are demanding a full investigation into Dennis Vincent’s conduct while he was acting mayor. Specifically, his relationship with George Yates, and some of the decisions they both signed off on. It seems the public have even less reason to trust him now that they know he lied about Graham being his son.”

“Busy day for them too, then.” I straighten my tie and clear my throat as one of the TV crew heads in our direction.

“Assholes,” Stuart mutters. “But it’s working in our favor. Interest in the mayor’s office is at an all-time high this morning. And everyone is waiting to see what you announce. You’re already trending online, and we haven’t gone live yet.”

I smirk at the growing grin on Stuart’s face. He loves this. Being in the thick of it. The press releases, the buzz. Perhaps not the exact circumstances surrounding why I’ve chosen first thing this morning to do a live press release in the ballroom of The Songbird hotel. But regardless, he’s in his element, thinking on his feet, and fielding press calls like a championship defender. It’s one of the reasons he’s such a great campaign manager. And as I’ve come to realize even more this last couple of days, a great friend, too.

“Right. Go do this.” He grabs his phone out of his pocket again as another call comes in.

I make my way out from behind the privacy screening to the stage which has been erected especially for this press conference. A multitude of camera clicks ring out from the gathered press members filling the room wall to wall. I catch Griffin’s eye. He’s stood at the front right side of the room, to the edge of the stage. Maria’s with him. But only Maria.

I scan the crowd of faces near them, looking for blonde hair and blue eyes. But she isn’t here, of course she isn’t. It’s purposefully early. Early enough that a lot of the city will catch the news before they leave for work, or as they arrive to start the day.

She won’t even be in the building yet.

“You ready?” The Songbird’s Event Manager asks me.

“As I’ll ever be.” I curl my lips into a practiced smile.

“Just so you know… I voted for you.” He returns a smile of his own. “It’s all set whenever you want to start.”

I thank him and climb onto the stage, over to where the podium is. I lift my eyes, looking into the camera directed at me, and I begin.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for joining me. I am Reed Walker, your Mayor Elect for this incredible city we call home. Today, I am going to share with you my plans for the following: the candidate selected for the role of deputy mayor. The officials joining me when I take office in just a few short weeks. And the commissioners I will be appointing as heads of agencies for our education, transport, and housing departments. As well as for the New York Fire Department and the New York Police Department. I know you have been waiting for this announcement and I thank you for your patience. This city deserves the very best. It deserves people who love it. Who will give their heart to it. And who will strive for justice, freedom, and peace in their endeavors. And so, I’m sure you can understand that I wanted to be certain I had made the right choices.”

I cast a smile around the room.

“Right. Let’s start.”

Twenty minutes later, which also included question time, I’m off the stage and talking in lowered voices with Stuart when someone clears their throat behind me.

“That was a great speech, Reed.”

I turn and heat flares over the back of my neck. I draw in a deliberate breath, composing myself before I do something I regret with a room full of reporters bearing witness.

“Bea. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Stuart emits a low curse under his breath next to me and glares at her. She acts as if he isn’t even there, her eyes fixed solely on me.

“Well, it was a little quiet at home since Graham is helping the Department of Investigation with their inquiries. We had an early awakening, shall we say?” Her eyes pinch in the corners as she looks at me. They’re bloodshot. Her usually immaculate makeup is also missing, instead replaced by what looks hastily applied and smudged in places.

I look back in silence, my mouth flattened into an emotionless line. She’s not stupid. I’m sure she has suspicions about why the DOI has suddenly started sniffing around. And she would be right.

But it’s the least she should expect after what they’ve been doing.

“I just…” Her eyes sweep over my face and down my chest, softening as they return to meet mine again. “I wanted to tell you that I think you are the best mayor this city could have. You deserved to win. I can’t say that about everyone.” A cloud of tension passes over her face as she purses her lips and readjusts her purse on her shoulder.

“That’s one thing we agree on.” I glare at her. “But why come all the way here to tell me? Again,” I add, raising a brow, my jaw ticking like a watch on speed as I fight to control the fire coursing through my veins. “Couldn’t you have sent a text?” I hiss through gritted teeth.

Her eyes pop, her pupils dilating the moment she realizes that I know. She freezes, her eyes locked on mine for one second, two, three…

“People do things sometimes that… are a shock, even to themselves,” she says, plastering on a fake smile as one of the hotel staff passes and wishes us good morning.

“In the moment, perhaps.” I tip my head to the side as I study her. From the outside, she looks like any other woman, long dark hair, red lipstick, manicured nails, designer dress. But I know underneath it all is a selfish heart as cold as ice.

“But to plan something, down to the tiniest detail. To search and find something that apparently never existed twelve years ago. And then to use it as a weapon against someone who has never done a thing against you… It’s fucking despicable.”

Her throat constricts as she swallows slowly, looking up at me with darkened eyes. “You left me and moved to LA.”

“I wasn’t talking about me,” I spit. “And there’s nothing wrong with my memory, Bea. If I recall, you broke up with me in a note before that and were in someone else’s bed before I’d even packed.”

I blow out a breath with a humorless chuckle. “You wouldn’t know the first thing about caring about anyone other than yourself.”

Her eyes glitter up at me before she narrows them, her chest rising as she draws in a deep breath. “I can see it was a mistake coming here. Thinking that you might be reasonable, given our history. Do give my regards to Harley, won’t you? I’m sure you’ll be speaking to her.” She turns to leave.

“Don’t,” I growl.

She pauses, thrusting her chin out as she turns back to me.

“Don’t what? Don’t remind you of what it was like? How you liked to…” She glances at Stuart. “He liked it hard and dirty.” She smirks. “We fucked like—”

“No,” I hiss so quietly that only the three of us can hear. But the volume doesn’t matter. It’s the venom in my voice that makes Bea’s words wither like paper over a flame, dying in her throat. I fix my eyes on her, leaning closer. “Don’t ever say her name where I can hear you again. You don’t deserve to even think it.”

She bristles, her shoulders stiffening, visibly shaken by the force of my words as she slowly draws in a breath before she speaks. “I hope she knows how lucky she is. You’ve always been…” She rubs her lips together, her brows pulling inward, creating a deep line in the skin between them. “You and I could have—”

“No, Bea. We couldn’t.”

She looks at me, her eyes shining, and for a second, I see regret there, hidden behind the lies and the jealousy, and the selfishness. But it’s been layered over so many times that I’m not sure even Bea understands it herself. Visiting me at the office to congratulate me, the gift basket… Small tokens of guilt, perhaps? Maybe Graham and Dennis were the ones who decided they were going to get the new mayor onboard with their plans, whoever he or she was. Maybe it was pure luck that I won, and that Bea and I shared a history. One with an ugly blot in it that only a few people knew about, including her.

But she was still a part of it.

A huge part.

She told them about me. She betrayed any sense of decent human behavior by giving them that information when she knew they wanted to use it to manipulate me. To control me.

It’s unforgivable.

And I would bet my life on it being her who suggested they use Harley. That my feelings for her were their strongest weapon.

But they underestimated Harley.

And me.

I lean in close to her so I can whisper my next words in her ear. “I could never love someone like you.”

Bea’s breath catches before she inclines her cheek toward mine, dropping her voice. “But you can love her? Someone who didn’t even know you then? Who wasn’t there for the most defining time in your life?” she spits.

“She didn’t have to be,” I enunciate each word, so they’re fired like bullets one by one. “She knows who I am now. And that’s something someone like you can never understand. And that one night? That wasn’t the most defining part of my life. The day I met Harley was.”

Bea recoils, pulling her cheek away and glaring up at me. “You’ll always be soiled, Reed. She can’t magic it away.”

My anger turns to pity as I stare at her. She’s desperate. She’s scared and desperate, and if she hadn’t done what I know she has, then I might think she deserved sympathy.

But she doesn’t.

Bea chose her path the day she decided to share the worst night of my life with two men who wanted to use it to their advantage.

But it isn’t their life. And it isn’t their story to share.

It’s mine.

“I don’t need her to.” My voice softens as my anger turns to pity.

I allow my eyes to scan over Bea’s face one final time. I knew all those years ago she was only out for herself. I don’t know what led her to be that person. But I can see that nothing has changed. She’s not grown. She’s not turned over a new leaf.

She’s just fallen further. Unraveled.

She went down, and I went up.

The worst night of my life set my future careering onto an entirely new trajectory. It wasn’t music anymore. It was justice and values, and belief in doing better. And people.

And now that I’m here, I intend to make every damn second mean something.

“It’s part of who I am. But it’s not all I am, and she sees all of me. Goodbye, Bea.”

Her eyes turn glassy, but before any tears of self-pity appear, I gesture to Stuart, who watched the entire exchange. He nods at me before we walk away together.

Leaving her behind us.

Leaving it all behind.

Firmly in my past.