𝕻𝖊𝖉𝖆𝖑𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕾𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖘

Shaw's Mahattan Townhouse.

ᏒᎥᏋᏝ

I hate Shaw Harlow. Which person in their right mind goes cycling at four in the morning?

It's not even morning until five. This man is a lunatic. Why did he have to force me to leave the warmth of my bed to watch him ride a bicycle?

I hug myself to fend off the cold New York air. "That jerk," I complain not caring the driver hears me insulting his boss.

"Ahem," the driver snortles.

"What bad things are you whispering about me to Hank?" Harlow asks as he nearly runs his bicycle over my toes.

I turn my head to the side. "I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," I answer.

He laughs, his voice a deep, smooth rumble that resonates through the street. "So . . . you didn't just call me a jerk?" He asks.

I make the gesture of zipping my lips shut. And he laughs even louder this time. The sound of his laugh sends a shiver down my spine. It was like his laugh was warming me up from the inside.

Mr.Harlow hops off the bicycle and stretches for the car."I did tell you to bring a jacket," he says.

"I forgot," I mumble.

"Hmm," he muses.

He seems to find what he looking for, and reaches for the small of my back with his free hand. I shouldn't enjoy my boss touching me this much but I do. "Wear this for now," he whispers as he wraps the flight jacket he wore the other day over my shoulders.

"Thanks," I tell him.

I look up at him and a giggle escapes me.

"What's so funny?" He asks.

"It's still dark out," I say. I don't even give a second thought to reaching up and pulling the pair of shades from over his eyes."Why are you wearing shades?"

"Ohh," he chuckles.

I swallow and my cheeks heat up as I move the glasses from his face to see that his cold blue eyes are locked on me. The way he looks at me . . . "Don't be silly," I tell myself. Shaw Harlow is in love with his fiancée. I am just an assistant to him. An employee who can replaced at a moment's notice, I won't let myself feel anymore special to him than that.

What's wrong with me?

I came to this city for a better life not to get attracted to older, unavailable, straight men.

"Is something wrong?" He whispers.

"No," I answer, hanging my head.

"Don't lie to me," he snaps."I can tell that you're upset by something."

"I'm not upset by anything," I mutter.

Harlow's eyebrow arches, he seems

unconvinced by what I just told him.

"You're still lying to me," he groans.

"I am not lying," I lie.

"Come on, just tell me what's wrong with you," he orders me.

I ignore him, walking to the opposite side of the road. He holds my wrist and twists me back in his direction.

"I asked you a question," he groans.

"I already answered," I heave a sigh

"Just because you sign my paycheck doesn't mean you have the right to hound me."

He blinks at my reaction. The color from his eyes dim. "Why would you say something like that to me?"

He back up a little, but as he watches me, he grimaces. It's an expression I never expected to see on my boss's face - dejection. "You don't have to be here with me," he says,"Hank will take you home. You can come to the office around ten."

He climbs back onto his bike, riding off before I can tell him I didn't mind staying out in cold with him.

I lean against the car, not believing I am angry with my boss because he's engaged. I shouldn't care that Harlow is engaged. I shouldn't feel so jealous of Mallory for having his heart or the opposite side of his bed.

Shaw Harlow is my boss - I should only feel respect and at times maybe hate for him.

I hug his jacket closer to my body. It has plenty of room to shift around, considering that he's much larger than me. The viscose lining of the jacket lingers with Harlow's scent; notes of clove mixed with oud that has a deep, resinous scent with a hint of spicy intensity. It has a raw power that made me go weak at the knees.

"Should I drop you home?" Hank, the driver, rolls down his window.

I forgot he was even here. Hopefully, he didn't witness me being intimate with his and my boss's jacket.

I shake my head,"No."

It's a while, but Harlow finally comes back. He pauses, balancing himself without hands a top of his bicycle.

"You didn't leave," he whispers.

"No," I say. "And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have spoken to you that way."

He breaks small smile."Don't worry. I like it when you get quarrelsome."

"That's an odd like to have," I giggle.

"Not to me - it isn't," he says. "Here," he tugs a to go bag from the handle of his bike and stretches it to me.

The bag feels warm in my hand.

"What this?" I ask, inspect what's on the inside.

"I thought you might've been feeling hangry," he says.

"How did you ..." I count at least ten different pastries from in the bag,"... even get these?"

"I walk into the pastry shop," he says.

"What pastry shop?" I ask."It's hardly six in morning. There are no pastry shops open, right now."

"That's true," he say,"but I got one to open earlier."

I fish out a warm sticky bun from the bag."How?"

"I'm pretty persuasive," he smirks.

"Really?" I bite into the cinnamon flavored sticky bun."So, you didn't throw money at them?

"I might've," he cracks a guilty smile.

"Thank you," I lick carmel glaze from my fingers."How did you know that I didn't go home?"

"I just knew," he says.

My eyes flicker to his solid chest as he unzips his jersey.

I bite my lip, as the jersey falls away from his chests, it reveals his smooth, warm tan skin glistening with sweat. My brows draw together at the drops of sweat that roll down the fine trail of salt and pepper hair leading to his navel, showing off the deep V of his hips.

Mallory is one lucky woman.

"Summers," Harlow calls."What has caught your attention?"

I peel my eyes away from him. There is a blush crawling on my face. I just know he caught me staring.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

I stand ahead of the mirror, dousing my scalp in rosemary oil. I'm awfully tired of having to deal with my hair. It is almost impossible to find a style that seems professional enough and won't set my scalp on fire to wear to work.

I shave the bit of hair growing on my face. Even though it takes the entire morning, I manage to put my hair up into a messy looking slick back.

It's nearing 9' o clock and there still hasn't been single text on my phone from Harlow, which is odd, since he normally sends a reminder that I've from around five. The next time, he sends me to buy sleeping pills, I am not going since there don't work.

Why am I even waiting for him to text me? He's probably in bed with his fiancée, doing whatever engaged couples do. I should get to work and focusing on being assistant.

I get into the office with around two minutes to spare. Harlow is going to chew me out for being late.

"Is Mr. Harlow here, yet?" I ask Rina.

She looks up from her typing."God, I hope not. He's always in a mood."

"No, he's not!" I find myself shouting. I lower my voice."I mean, I wouldn't say always."

Rina gives me a weird look."It's as if you haven't meet the man," she says.

"He has such a handsome face ..." she swoons,"but I have never seen even the tiniest smile on it."

"I've seen him smile once or twice," I mumble under my breath.

Of course ... I have seen him smiling more times than that but I wouldn't be able to explain to Rina why I am keeping tracking of number of times I saw my boss smiling or laughing.

"Really?" Rina gasps. "That means he only smiles around you."

"Don't be silly," I tell her."I am going to check his office."

Later after checking the office, and waiting until noon, there is still no signs of Harlow. I walk to over to Sebastian's office.

I knock on the door and wait for him to call me inside.

"Riel! Come," he waves me in."What can I do for you?"

"Hi," I stratch the back of my neck. "I wanted to ask if you have spoke with Mr. Harlow at all, today."

"Why?" He asks.

I start rambling at his question. "He isn't in the office, and I, um, have not heard from him since yesterday."

"Wierd," he laughs.

"Yes," I agree."It's not like him -"

"No," he cuts me off. "You are weird. You're the only employee I know that isn't glad to have a day in the office without their boss breathing down their neck."

"But -" I start.

He cuts me off again."But nothing. I am sure Shaw is taking care of some other business. Just enjoy not having to deal with his temper for the day."

"I don't know," I consider out loud. " I should probably go to his townhouse and check to see if he's okay."

Sebastian shakes his head. "You are actually worried about him?" he asks in a shocked tone.

"Yes," I rasp. "I'll admit that he can be an ill-mannered grouch but he's also

gentle . . . sensitive."

He gapes at me. "Are you sure we're talking about the same person?"

"Forget I asked you anything," I grab the door with groan, leaving angrily.

I call Harlow's phone but I only get through to his voicemail.

A gwaning anxiety tightens around my heart at the thought of him not answering the phone. I don't know why I am feeling so worried.

I try ringing his phone again.

"Hello . . . " I say quickly at the phone being answered.

"I'm sorry, but the person you called is not avail -"

I hit the end call button.

I stumble out of the office and into a yellow cab and I read the address of Harlow's townhouse from a sticky note to the driver.

After forcing the cab driver to ignore several red lights and jaywalkers, the car stops in front of the a four story townhouse.

"Don't set foot in my cab again," the driver begs."You have to be the worst backseat driver, I've ever met."

He drives off after grabbing his fare from my hand.

"I am not a backseat driver," I yell as he speeds down the road.

Eventually, I turn my attention to the massive townhouse ahead of me. I go up onto the steps and hesitate at first to ring the doorbell.

"Mr. Harlow?" I speak into intercom at the side of the door.

When there's no answer, I knock on the door but end up pushing it open.

I walk pass front door into the foyer.

I raise my eyes to the wrought-iron baloncies of the upper floor and the sweeping staircase that leads up to it.

Everything is sparsely decorated that I turn to leave, thinking I might have stepped into the wrong house. I pick up my phone, dailing Harlow before I head to the door.

Brring-brring.

I halt, thinking I just heard his phone ringing behind me.

Brring-brring.

I turn on my heel, quickly hiking up the stairs towards the ringing.

An uncontrolled trembling breaks through my body. I panic, and spiral towards Harlow out cold on the floor.

"Mr. Harlow?" I kneel next to him.

"Sir?" I try waking him up.

I rest his head against my tights, I try to feel for a pulse on his wrist but I'm shaking so much that I forget how to check for one.

In a hurry, I erase Harlow's number from the dail keypad and punch in 9-1-1.

An operator answers, "911, what's your emergency?"

"Hello?" I heave."It's my boss. I found him unconscious and I don't know to him to wake up."

"How long has he been unconscious?

"I d-don't know," I holler. "It could be for hours now. He usually comes into work at eight but he didn't. I came to his house, looking for him and found him like this."

"Okay, sir," the operator says."I need you to stay calm. Can you tell me your location and address?"

"We're at 4 East 79th St," I tell her.

"Okay . . . I need you to check if your boss is breathing. Place your ear next to his mouth and look for chest movement."

I near Harlow's face and I could feel his faint breathing against my cheek.

"Yes," I confirm."He is breathing but very slowly. And there's bluish color around his lips."

"Okay, we need to start CPR. I'll guide you through it. Place the heel of your hand on the center of his chest, between the nipples

I push Harlow flat on his back and even though, my hands don't seem to stop shaking. I am able to follow the instructions.

"Now, place your other hand on top and interlock your fingers," she says loudly. "Start chest compressions by pushing down hard and fast, about two inches deep. Let me count with you. Ready? Go."

"One ..." she counts.

"One ..." I repeat, pushing firmly onto Harlow's chest.

I continue counting until I'm close to triple digits and the paramedics are finally in the house. They rush in and pull me away from Harlow, attaching an oxygen mask to his face.

Everything happens so quickly that I almost loose track of the paramedics taking Harlow on a stretcher.

I hurrry closely behind them as they

wheel Harlow into the ambulance.

"Can I ride with him?" I beg.

"No," the female paramedic answers, "only a family member can ride with him in the ambulance."

Maybe I should listen to her, it's rule after all but I don't. I shout at her."Do you see any family members here?"

"I am the one here with him," I hiss.

I can't believe I am yelling at her for a rule that I am certain she didn't set.

Her male coworker nods to her.

"Alright, come." She gives in.

"Thank you," I squeeze into a small seat near the back, out of the way.