Inherent

Things are good—at least, I think so. With Jules. Ever since last week when I sent her the necklace and finally got through that thick head of hers, after I finally made the two of us official, I’ve thought a lot about my dark haired beauty and why she feels as if she can’t tell me certain things. Things I know it hurts for her to withhold.

As I lounge on my sofa, waiting patiently for her arrival to show me one of the final designs for Lou’s salon, I continue to ponder over what made her the way she is today. I remember once she called herself ‘trouble’, though to me she is anything but. Frustrating sometimes, perhaps, because she always insists to bear the weight of her sadness by herself, but not trouble.

Never trouble. If she insists she is, however, then she’s my trouble. I came to understand last week when I slept in her bed for the first time that Julia doesn’t want to burden anyone with her issues. It’s a hard way to live and it scares me, scares me more than a bullet flying past my head, because I remember the way she broke before my very eyes after she showed me her brother’s grave and her grandmother. That day was the product of holding all her grief inside, of trying to carry its weight with no one’s help. The last thing I want is for the event to repeat itself.

Progress. We are making progress in the better direction, however, and I don’t take promises lightly. So for a long time I think about how I’m going to make good on my promise to Jules and how I can prove to her that I will stay. To any other girl I’d never make such a promise—ever; I learned in my old life that giving someone your word and not sticking to it never ends well or without someone getting hurt… I don’t make them with a light heart. And I would never hurt Julia, so I made a promise to myself that night, too. That no matter what she has to tell me whenever she chooses to, no matter what may be wrong, I’ll still see her as Julia.

My Jules.

Damn, I’m in deeper with her than I ever have been with any other girl. The strange thing is I’m happy about that fact, that I have a girlfriend for once and not a couple of women on the side to keep me marginally satisfied. For a long time I have wanted more, I wanted to break away from the constant partying lifestyle that comes with owning and nearly single-handedly managing a night club, and so far because of Julia I’ve been successful. Jesus—the only time I’ve been to The Castle in the past few weeks has been on business only and to make my mandatory appearance so everyone knows I haven’t dropped dead. Working from my apartment isn’t so bad after all, as I have found out. It’s quieter and I find I don’t get so angry when things get stressful.

Or maybe that might be Julia’s long term effect on me.

Change. That’s what this is. I didn’t even know I was capable of changing, and it isn’t even that Jules is forcing me to. I’m doing this because I want to. Over the last week, almost every single one of my nights has been spent with her. Waking up with her next to me is such an unforeseen luxury. I don’t ever want to sleep without her next to me again.

Her surprise is just two days away, too. I can’t wait to witness her reaction… for once I believe this will make her happy. I feel confident in that. It’s on her list, after all. I’m quite pleased with myself, having managed to swing it on such short notice, but it’s all going to be worth it when I see those pretty blue eyes of hers come to life with happiness. For the both of us, it will surely serve as a much needed break from the stressful past few weeks we’ve both endured.

With this surprise, it’s the only time I’ve ever felt confident when it comes to Julia. It’s a pity I can’t bring her list up to her, at least, if only to get an explanation for its existence and why she never completed any of its items. But, as always, I have my suspicions.

I’m knocked from my reverie when I hear the elevator signal an entrance out in the foyer—I gave the doorman, Pete, permission to give Julia my access code to get up here—another thing I haven’t done for anyone, and wholly a matter of trust. Julia is the first person I’ve put faith in totally in years, and I’m likewise confident that I’ve placed it in the right person.

Even though I’m well aware she’s keeping something locked away in that mind of hers. The irony in my situation is practically tangible. Joe and Des would laugh in my face for making myself so vulnerable, but I know it’s worth it. Julia is worth it.

With a smile already forming just at the thought of seeing her, I spring up from the sofa and stroll out to the foyer. Even I will admit my giddiness to see another person sounds weird as hell. And I like the notion… I like it a lot.

“Hello, darling,” I greet cheerfully, rounding the corner to catch Julia coming the same way toward me. Today she wears a floral printed sleeveless blouse that shows off her delicate shoulders and collarbones, along with tan skinny jeans and a pair of flats. I like the casual look she has going for her, how she carries a cross body bag when instead of a huge purse for its practicality. She’s also wearing the necklace I gifted her, which of course I love to see. She manages to look so very feminine without even trying.

“Lou couldn’t make it,” she says in an apologetic way, her cheeks tinged pink at my calling her ‘darling’. “She said she had an emergency with the designer at the salon. Apparently they ‘arsed something up’.”

I chuckle at her use of air quotes and surprisingly accurate imitation of my friend. “That’s fine. So it’s just us, then?”

I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively, earning an even deeper blush from Jules and she quickly diverts her field of vision. Yet again, her shyness is a breath of fresh air. “I, um, guess so.”

Well, if I’m honest, I like a lot of things about Jules. Here lately ‘like’ seems more of an understatement than anything. I watch with satisfaction as an even deeper blush spreads from her neck and up to her cheeks; I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of having such an effect on Julia. Every now and then I like to draw this sort of reaction from her on purpose. It may be silly, but it’s more of a reassurance to me because she can be difficult to read a lot of the time. At least when it comes to me.

And then she starts stammering and flushing and tripping up whenever I skim my fingers across her flesh in the gentlest touches or say the most innocent things—and I know straight away how she feels. The same as I feel about her.

Her subtle reactions always confirm it. Last week confirmed it. Julia turns from slipping off her jean jacket and inhales sharply when I pull her close. Quickly, however, her surprise melts away and she lets her bag fall to the floor with a light thump before she rests a hand on my shoulder, smiling softly.

“Hello to you too, Harry,” she says through a trickling, light laugh. It’s my turn to be surprised when she reaches up on the tips of her toes to place a gentle kiss to my lips. I grin and stay satisfied with the innocent gesture, fighting the urge to deepen the kiss like I so want to.

Her speed. I have to let things go at Julia’s speed. Last week I almost lost every last thread of self-control I possessed when I hoisted her up onto the counter after I gave her the necklace. But now that I am conscious of the possibility of my restraint slipping, I’m much more careful. I refuse to hurt or scare Julia. She’s just so innocent. The last I want is to ruin it for her.

“How was work?” I ask casually, leading her with a hand clasped to her waist into the living room. Julia hasn’t told me or even hinted at the possibility, but I suspect times may not be fun for her at work, and it may be partly my fault.

Because of her co-worker or the boy with whom she’s on ‘friendly’ terms with. I just can’t help myself whenever I’m in the book store, however, to keep a hold of her the whole time I’m there. Especially with how I’ve seen him look at her. In any other situation it might be appropriate, the affectionate protectiveness that I feel also but multiplied by a hundred, though that morphs into something darker when he sees her with me—and I don’t like that. At all. I’ve got enough testosterone in my system for the both of us, and it turns me into an even greedier brute when I see other males eyeing her in such a way.

I catch her hesitance, the half grimace she makes before she gains control over her reaction and projects a small smile. Not good—I might have been out of the club life for a long time now, but I’m still ever observant of people’s subtle body cues. Julia’s even more so, because it allows me a little deeper insight into how she truly feels. Right now, hers are telling me that maybe not everything is as okay as she might claim.

As a method of distraction, Julia shakes her head and digs through her bag, hefting out her laptop.

“It was fine,” she answers simply, a fairly normal response, though to me it seems to hang flat and limply in the air. I want a little more information than that.

Sat at the sofa, I keep my arm strewn across the small of Julia’s back while she rests against the leather cushion. While I have her, I need to remain in contact with her as much as possible. It’s not even as if I’m aware I’m doing it, either, and even the smallest of touches somehow manage to leave me satisfied.

“Just fine? Anything interesting happen?” I press a little more, still remaining upbeat and casual. She shrugs.

“How was your day?” She deflects. I frown. It’s easy to see that it is natural for her to do, and perhaps she might not even realize how lacking her closed-off answers might be. Or perhaps I’m digging for something that isn’t even there, and everything is fine for her at work. One can only hope, though my gut instinct has never been wrong.

“Long, and testing on my patience,” I answer with a sigh, finally losing the tension that kept me sat upright and I allow my torso to sink backward. Julia relaxes, too, and she probably senses my questioning is over with. For now at least. I hate how she believes she has to keep everything that bothers her bottled up, how she refuses to voice her frustration unless she’s at her breaking point.

This is how she has come to be. I accept it, too, if only through gritted teeth. Being here for her will have to be enough for the moment.

“Grumpy partner,” I hint lightly. “Unimpressed with how I go about business. It seems they want me to have a physical office.”

Amused, she glances up at me through her eyelashes after her quick fingers finish entering her log-in details on the computer. “That might be a good idea. I don’t know how you stay organized.”

I pretend to be offended, placing a hand over my heart in mock hurt. “Hey, I have an office here.”

Julia rolls her eyes, flashing one of her rare smirks, and really I’m only doing this to gain some amusement from her. I like to see her laughing. “Right. I think I saw a desk under all the misplaced documents the other night, behind the poker table.”

“Oi!” In a flash, I lunge forward and commence in tickling all the sass from her system. I end up wrestling her small, squirming form down and pinning her onto her back, cushioning by the sofa. She laughs freely, our work momentarily forgotten.

These moments are the ones I love with Jules; those carefree times when she is just happy Over this past week, those moments have become less and less sporadic and much easier to induce. Yes, I like to make her happy.

“Please, Harry,” she sputters, arching her back into me from my prodding assault on her ribs. Her small hands push at my chest with little force, and I know she’s savouring this as much as I am. I refuse to have any less than innocent thoughts about how I have her defenseless underneath me and I could easily turn this moment into something much more heated. I’m almost tempted to, after her torso comes in contact with mine.

Instead, with commendable restraint and one hand holding both of hers, I pin them above her head before I grin in satisfaction. “Tell me I’m the most organized person you’ve ever met.”

Her giggles increase in volume, her eyes squeezed shut with a grin so wide it looks like it hurts.

“Okay, okay!” She relents after a second of short lived stubbornness. “You are!”

Knowing too well that she can’t get out anything more in between her constant laughing, I accept her roundabout response.

“And…” I halt my dancing fingers and train my eyes on her beautiful smile. “And… I’m the most handsome.”

Surprisingly, Julia manages to sober up in just a few seconds, and I suspect it’s only because my newest demand rekindles her timidity. She blinks up at me, panting as she tries to withhold a burst of small, left over giggles. The bashful light to her eyes returns as soon as she registers what I said, just as I expect, but my smile doesn’t falter and I pretend to have another go at her ribs. “Say it!”

“Alright!” She says hurriedly, biting her lip in defeat. “You… you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met.”

Immediately I rumble with satisfied, good-natured laughter at her returned flush, and I lean down to press a soft kiss to her lips. “That’s my girl. Was that so hard?”

She pouts and feigns upset over the admission. “Yes.”

“Now that’s not very nice,” I murmur, all while still pressing lingering kisses to her mouth. My hand ghosts over her ribs teasingly, and it causes Jules to giggle in anticipation of me tickling the life from her again; instead my hand rests on the curve of her waist before I lean up, straddling her. “Back to business?” I ask with a cheeky smile.

Still with a light rouge crept up from her chest, Julia nods and I reluctantly climb off her. I settle in my original place to watch Julia right herself while she shakes her head in disbelief. “Do you always get side-tracked so easily?”

“No,” I hum, cocking my head to the side as if I’m really putting some thought into it. “Only with you. I find I can’t help myself.”

My remark has its intended effect—Julia looks back to me briefly in surprise before she hurries to focus on loading up a program on her laptop, embarrassed, and she mumbles out a meek “oh.”

Rather than force a more coherent reply and perhaps flustering her a little more, I choose to sit and bask in the fact that I clearly have the same effect on Jules as she does on me. It’s just hard for her to admit it, or to openly express it as much as I like to. That, I figure, will come with time. I can’t expect the world. I allow her to distract us both when she launches into her speech about what Lou wanted done, what was achieved, and what was physically impossible to accomplish. I grin at that one, leaning forward as she hesitates to bring up the brand new, sparkly webpage.

I’m not slow—I know that Julia worked hard and took a special interest in this project for Lou and my opinion more likely than not means a lot to her. She doubts herself and her abilities far too much, and I’m intent on changing that. Not only because she deserves the praise and her work speaks for itself, but because whenever the subject of her designs comes up I see her brought to life before my eyes. This is something that makes her truly happy, and she shouldn’t give up on it.

“And this…” she pauses. I sit straighter in anticipation, catching her frown, and though startling I don’t react. I simply gaze coolly at the screen, waiting patiently for her to gain her confidence. “Is the finished product. I think.”

Frowning now myself, I scrutinize the sleek webpage while also trying to figure out why Jules is upset at the same time. Everything about it is sophisticated, edgy with its sparse though elegant layout that outlines all of the salon’s features and services. She has captured Lou’s vision to a T.

“You don’t like it,” Julia assumes instantly, making me break my focus from the computer to concentrate on her in confusion.

“What? What makes you think that?” I ask with genuine curiosity. I’d love to know at what point in her mind she creates these self-conscious doubts. But her thought process is mostly a puzzle to me, except for those times when I always sense she shuts down after feeling a brief, momentary happiness. Thankfully, that occurrence hasn’t been as frequent this past week either.

Groaning, Julia only now seems to acknowledge her small outburst and leans back into her seat, massaging her temple with her forefinger and through closed eyes. “I’m just trying to figure out what about it doesn’t make it the finished product, like you said. It looks perfect to me, Jules.” My explanation causes her to purse her lips in consideration, and I know I might have gotten through to her. “I like it—but the question is why don’t you?”

She opens her eyes, simultaneously suspicious and surprised. “You like it?”

The disbelief in her voice is unfathomable and I don’t like it, not one bit. She needs more confidence in herself, and that is an enormous understatement. “Of course I do,” I try not to sound so gruff; I don’t want to upset Jules, especially when we’re already on thin ice. “It’s a perfect representation of Lou’s original image. And I’m not only saying that because I’m me and you’re you.”

“Thank you.” She cracks a small smile at my waving off of her suspicions, already knowing where her mind was headed.

“What don’t you like about it?”

To my perhaps untrained eye, I see a meticulously designed website with thought put into every detail. But I want her to voice her frustrations, not bottle them up and keep it all to herself so they have a chance to cultivate.

Sighing, she peeks warily at me before focussing back onto the screen, her fingers skimming over the track pad as she navigates through the different pages. “It’s just—Alex.”

If she didn’t before, Julia certainly has my attention now. My reaction to grab hold of her free hand is instinctual; I don’t even try to hold back or hide how I feel.

“What about him?” It’s hard to produce anything other than a low growl, already angry. If that idiot kid is giving her a hard time… I won’t hesitate to ‘talk’ some sense into him. Jules’ eyebrows rise in further surprise, tensing now too. Almost as much as I have, and the look on her face is one of remorse.

“It’s nothing, really,” she hurries to bury the topic, as if afraid of me. I remind myself how frightening I can be in my infuriated state, even while making an effort to remain calm, so I try to gain some control.

I mask my feelings with an impassive expression, though my gaze remains hard as I stare at her and she avoids eye contact. She knows she can’t get out of this one, not when she’s already broached the subject and now I’m worried. “Tell me.”

“It really isn’t a big deal,” she tries one more time, but I don’t budge. Instead, I wave her on to continue already. Patience… that’s another thing I don’t possess when angered. “He was just supposed to help me with the coding, remember?”

She waits for my slow, calculated nod, and she sounds out of breath. “Well, he bailed. So I had to compromise on some of what I originally wanted it to be like.”

Using all of my willpower to hold back a biting remark, I’m only half successful. “What an ass.”

To my absolute surprise and satisfaction, Julia’s at first wry smile widens until laughter bubbles past her lips and she has to cover her mouth. “Yeah, he is.” Her agreement admittedly brings me more joy than it should.

Then common sense gets a hold of me and I begin to wonder why she agrees with me and if I should press for details, but she must notice the puzzlement that softens my once tense expression. After a hesitant chew of her lip, she tells me the truth. “Alex and I have… history together.”

‘What?” I demand, on edge all over again. What the hell does she mean by ‘history’? “I thought—”

As is sensing a mistake she thinks she’s made, she cuts me short with wide eyes and a mollifying hand to my forearm. “With my brother. Caleb,” she clarifies hastily. “Since he died, things have been tense.”

Now with one vague explanation to dissect, I continue to simmer and think of the possibilities. I want more details, because I have been itching to act on this Alex issue for some time. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

My question is meant to sound ominous, and it takes Julia a half second for her innocent mind to comprehend what I mean by ‘help’ and the subtle threat lurking underneath the surface of the word. Her eyes widen even further almost comically, and the blood drains from her face. “No, no. That’s fine. It isn’t a big deal.”

Actually, I get the sense it might very well be. She’s just too kind, even to a person who sounds like he screwed up her life pretty bad. He’s the first person I’ve witnessed her speak even a little ill of, and to gain such a reaction from her I know at the very least that it has to be bad.

“You let me know if he gives you any trouble.” I don’t pose it as a question because it isn’t. I don’t like to order her around, but I don’t want to see her hurt. Especially by some tweaker idiot. It’s avoidable, and I can fix it quite easily. “Understand?”

“Harry…” she sighs and shakes her head at me, fixed on her laptop again in order to avoid my intense stare. All of the sudden I remember who Julia is and that she most likely has other ways of dealing with obstacles and difficult people aside from violence. Because I know she’s received my message loud and clear and is aware of my blatant dislike for her complicated friendship with Alex, I move on from making subtle threats and get back to business.
Sometimes without realizing it I revert to the mindset of the club, the one I carried for years, and their barbaric system of justice. I remind myself that with Jules I am a civilized, productive member of society.

“I might know someone…” I trail off in sudden thought, and I wonder if it’s a smart idea to get her involved with any of my business associates. I’d have to talk to Trent, and while my rival is tolerable and we’re on good terms, I don’t like how he makes his living. It’s much too familiar, and I like to stay far away from it. On that same note, however, I’m in no place to judge sources of income and investment. Past or present. “I think it’s perfect the way you have it, though.”

I don’t make this offer to cover my ass in order not to insult Julia or her work. When it comes to business I’m always honest, and if I really didn’t like the website, I would have told her so. I wouldn’t have felt the greatest about it, of course, and I would have worded in a hopefully positive manner, but there’s no sense in dodge the truth when it comes to business. It’s as simple as that.

“Really?” Julia all but ignores my slight revocation, and now I only have myself to blame. I bet she hardly even processed my added-on compliment and escape route. Around her, the filter usually connected to my thoughts and mouth is missing more often than not.

“I’ll have to see,” I say noncommittally, not wanting to put any amount of promise into it. “A business associate of mine just had some work done on his website and recommended the web coder to me.”

“Alex is basically a lost cause,” Jules sighs in defeat.

Despite myself, I’m happy to hear her say it, even though I know it must cause her pain. It’s better for her to let go of that kid than to allow herself to be hurt even more. “How about this: we’ll finalize the website as it stands now, and if you strike a deal with this guy you’re more than welcome to make the changes.”

After another minute’s worth of deliberation, Julia finally wrinkles her nose and glances back to me, unsure. “You’re sure you like it? Lou has already approved it, but I want you to tell me the truth, Harry.”

Lightheartedly, I groan in playful exasperation while I tug her closer by the hand she earlier placed on my arm. Which is good—I like to be carefree in her presence. She’s about the only person I’m able to do that with. “Yes, Jules. I’m positive.”

From her past and having caught sight of her list I have a decent idea as to why she doubts her work so much, but I don’t want to bring it about with her just yet. I want today to remain as stress-free as possible, and I even shut the worry of her stupid little friend out of my mind. “I wouldn’t pay you if I didn’t like it. Lou should have your last payment transferred by the weekend.”

Julia narrows her eyes in confusion. “I got my last payment the other day.”

Of course I know, and I play it off coolly. “Consider this next one a bonus for all your hard work and having to put up with the likes of me.”

Even as casually as I try to wave it off, Jules is instantly on high alert. She straightens her posture and pulls her hand from underneath mine, confused gaze turning annoyed. I grin cheekily in response.

“Harry,” she cautions, and I hold back another joking groan because I know she’s serious. I find it adorably attractive when she tries to sound threatening. “Cancel it. I’ve already received the full amount specified in the contract. My work is done, and I don’t need it.”

So badly my temper wants to flare—if she were anyone else, it would. But this is Jules, and for her sake I try to remain calm. I expected an argument over this, anyhow, because she probably looks at this as some sort of handout. What I really want to tell her is that I received a glimpse of the bills piled up on her kitchen counter last week, but I don’t want to give her this extra payment out of pity. Her rates are much too low because in the professional world she isn’t ‘qualified’, no matter how good her work may be or if it speaks for itself.

I want to tell Julia that she really does deserve it, but I don’t want to argue either. Instead, I make up something on the spot. “It’s advance payment for the work you still plan to do, then.”

There we go. That makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“No. I would only be doing what we agreed to in the first place, for the original amount of pay—” She’s so decidedly against this I’m a little surprised by her boldness, something I don’t see often. It’s nice to see her become frustrated sometimes, if only so that she can let off a little steam.

“Julia,” I talk against her only because she’s turning red in the face, and it isn’t an embarrassed blush. Keeping my voice level, I’m nowhere close to giving in, and I take back her hand to hold it in both of mine on my lap. “I don’t want to argue about this. We’ll figure it out later, yeah?”

My sincerity manages to net me a few points closer to the clear, though for a moment Julia frowns and looks to argue further, probably to tell me the same sort of things she did the other week about how she’s a grown woman and she can support herself. I know that, too, very well. She’s accomplished a lot in these past few years, from school to her design business. I just want to make things a little easier for her, to take off a little stress. The extra payment won’t even cause a dent in my bank account, and it would take care of most if not all of the bills she has unpaid.

It would be just one less worry.

“Alright,” she finally relents, and I take it as a good sign when she doesn’t pull her hand from mine again. Instead, she levels me with one of her rare, steady bouts of eye contact. “But this discussion isn’t over.”

“Yes ma’am,” I say, my smile returning full force at her sudden bossy attitude.

Julia shakes her head in disbelief, but then she seems to remember something and her eyes light up in excitement, a one eighty from her mood seconds ago. “Do you remember that book you asked me to look for?”

“Yes.” As always, she has my undivided attention. I haven’t forgotten about the children’s storybook I set her in search for. Back then I really only wanted an excuse to remain in contact with her, though it isn’t just that. I was read that story too many times to count as a child—I’m not purchasing it for nostalgia’s sake, but for Lux.

“That edition isn’t very easy to find, you know,” she points out, to which I nod slightly in understanding. A while ago I looked myself and came up empty. Like in everything else, maybe Julia will be my miracle worker. “I think I found a seller, but they won’t let it go for cheap.”

Releasing a whoop of laughter, I pull her closer and into a short, tight hug. “Thank you, sweetheart. I knew you could do it. I don’t care how much it is, do whatever it takes.”

I never expected for the book to be in any range near ‘inexpensive’, but splurging on this feels like a good idea. I want something that Lux can hold onto, something meaningful for her upcoming birthday aside from the few other toys I’ve already picked up for her. This is perfect timing.

“Are you sure you don’t want the seller’s contact information so you can buy it yourself?” She asks tentatively, and I suspect the reason for her hesitation is handling a lot of my personal information. Information I gave her long ago and without a second thought, when we hardly knew each other.

“No, that’s fine. I trust you.” There’s a weight to those few words, and recognition registers in her pale blue eyes.

“Okay,” she agrees with me anyway, still so close I feel her enticing amount of body heat next to my own. “I just wanted to make sure you’re still interested before I make the purchase.”

When I’m so close to her, I really don’t want to help myself. My smile turns sly and toothy, and my next statement also holds a double meaning. “Oh, I’m still very interested.”

Maybe Jules is simply getting used to my constant cheek, but she catches my drift straight away. Flushing, she quickly turns to close her laptop as a method of distraction and I choose to watch in amusement, waiting. Before she can get a word out, however, my house phone rings with Pete’s—the doorman’s—ringtone.

Sighing, I reach over onto the end table where I keep the cordless phone, which is really only ever used for Pete, and press ‘speaker phone’ before I settle back next to Julia.

“Mr. Styles?” Julia and I have both have paused, our previous conversation not forgotten to me.

“Yes, Pete?” I respond cordially, not as put off by the interruption as I would be any other time.
“There’s someone here to see you.”

I frown at that, while Julia looks to me in curiosity. No one has anything else scheduled with me for the rest of the day, and even if they did I wouldn’t conduct business in my own home. Jules is my only exception to that rule, and those who are close to me always announce their arrival beforehand so as not to catch me off guard. Because sometimes, catching me off guard can be dangerous. And not for me.

“Who is it?” I ask, turning gruff. I likewise don’t like my time with Jules being interrupted. I was even planning on trying to convince her into staying over all night.

“Won’t give me a name, sir. Should I escort them out?”

Along with my frown, my irritation deepens in an instant while I’m also very conscious of Julia’s safety. If whoever’s trying to get up here is a potential threat, Julia can’t be caught in the fray. That won’t ever happen, not on my watch.

“No,” I decide after thinking through each possibility, annoyance seeping through my tone. In a hurry, I stand and pass Jules her laptop. She needs to be out before this person comes, and that’s the best I can achieve right now. “Miss Townsend is just on her way out. Send them up after she leaves, please.”

Pete, I can trust. He’ll ensure her safety while she leaves.

Julia’s eyebrows quirk even further, but she doesn’t question me while she puts her laptop back in her bag and rises to stand next to me. She straightens her shirt with slow, thoughtful fingers, remaining silent as I chew my lip and wait through narrowed eyes for Pete to confirm.
“Will do.”

The slight static coming through the phone’s speaker breaks off I send Julia an apologetic smile that more likely resembles a grimace.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I forgot about a business meeting I had scheduled. I’ll call you later.” This is perhaps the first blatant like I have ever told her and I hate myself for it before the words have even left my mouth. Thankfully, however, my fib will remain as small as it is now. My old life doesn’t resurface in the present too often these days, but when it does I’m always prepared. Julia mustn’t be anywhere near me when I am.

“It’s fine,” she says easily, though I get the sense her light mood might be as forced as mine.

Already I know how tonight will play out—I’ll probably end up sleeping in her bed again. After whatever this is with the mystery person downstairs waiting for me, god knows I’ll need the reassurance of her presence and safety.

When I get my hands on this unexpected visitor… well, I will be sure to give them a piece of my mind.

In front of the elevator, I tug Jules closer one last time and bend my head to fuse my mouth to hers, allowing myself the shortest moment of peace I feel with my dark haired angel before I pull back with more than my usual amount of reluctance.

“Don’t forget to answer your phone this time,” I tease, more to take the edge off—the edge surely only I feel. Her eyelashes flutter as she opens her eyes in the most tempting of ways, still feeling the effect of our short embrace. Though she still smiles, she knows something is off. With me. Usually it’s the other way around; usually Julia is the one trying to hide her feelings. I don’t know what to do with this, now that the tables have turned.

As hesitant as she was when she first kissed me just a while ago, she meets my eyes with a look of what seems to be of support before leaning up again to press her lips to mine more firmly. This is meant to be more than just a simple kiss goodbye, and I’m thrown off even further from the routine I’ve developed when she pulls back, leaving me wanting more.

With an alluring though sheepish smile, she steps back toward the now open and waiting elevator doors. “I won’t,” she promises, and it takes me a moment to recall what we’re even discussing.

Phone calls. Right.

Before I can call out her sudden boldness or perhaps make another grab for her, she flees into the elevator. That’s what I’d like to do—spend the night with her on the sofa and forget about the potential threat altogether. I smirk, catching one last glimpse of tinted, flushed cheeks, long dark curls and wide blue eyes before the doors close and the elevator descends to the lobby floor. The sight will remain with me until we finally see each other again.

For a second longer I stare at the door while the smile I reserve only for her fades and I force myself from my lovesick trance, coming back to reality. I whirl around and head farther into my home and back to my bedroom with heavy, purposeful strides. Out of paranoia I wonder once more if it was a good decision to send Jules away unprotected, but right now I don’t know what other choice I have.

None. That’s the kind of thing that happens when you cut all ties and sometimes, even after leaving the life, threats are created which weren’t there before. I’m not sure how much I could have done if this really is a threat, other than ensure her safety. Besides, if there is, nobody is targeting Julia. If I went down with her and made sure she got home safely, my presence might put her in danger.

Take it easy, I remind myself. It could just be Louis or Nick screwing around with me… though both of my friends are aware of my ‘paranoia’, and so I doubt either would be stupid enough to pull something like this.

Using more force than necessary, I throw up the door to my wardrobe and venture all the way to the back of the room, to the top corner shelf which has been marked meticulously in my memory.

Inconspicuous enough, the innocent looking box is pulled down and from underneath several bed linens I uncover one of the very few things I kept in my home from my old life. My revolver. Its hefty and short barrel, along with the hollow point bullets clearly visible in the chamber, were a gift from my father on my nineteenth birthday and the weapon still looks as intimidating as I recall.

The only time this thing ever sees any action these days is when I take it out to the range every so often to keep my shot as frighteningly accurate as it has always been. Without doubt, I remember how to use it.

In a fluid gesture all too memorized, I release the chamber to ensure it is fully loaded before putting it back in place with a flick of my wrist. The small clicks created from the movement sound deafening in the silence, though I do it all with a steady, confident hand, switching off the safety in the same action.

After a calming deep breath and through a focus I only possess when danger might be lurking near, I think of Julia while I stow the deadly piece of art in the waist of my jeans at my back. Before I vacate the wardrobe, I check to ensure my t-shirt successfully covers the awkward lump and hides it from view. Then I’m off, storming out of my closet and bedroom to confront whoever has the nerve to infringe upon my one place of total privacy.

Not even Des knows of my apartment’s location; it is truly the one small piece of the world I have to myself. But I don’t get very far at all—barely out of the wide hallway and into the mouth of my living room when I see her.

The ghost from my past. Lucy. At the same time I reach back to draw my weapon, in a reflex so quick I hate I’ve learned, Lucy does the same. The sound of her voice causes us both to still.

“Ah, ah ah,” she sings, inching forward.

Jaw clenched and body tense, ready to spring into action; I stand my ground and train my vision on Lucy’s hands. The second she reaches into that old red leather jacket of hers, where I know for a fact she keeps a dainty but capable little pistol, I’ll be ready to react.

“What do you want?” I demand, finding the click of her high heeled boots more annoying than ever.

Lucy has never posed a real threat to me before. When I was active in the club I was in a much higher rank than her—hell, when I met her, she was an erotic dancer at one of the club’s many seedy establishments. At one point eons ago, we even saw each other. I was young and eager to live the fantasy, she was desperate and scrounging for a life better than the one she had. Our ‘relationship’ was one purely physical—no strings attached sex. There was nothing else. And I suppose, in return, I gave her access to the club. What she considers a better life.

She’s been in Joe’s pocket ever since. Oh… and things didn’t exactly end well between us. As it turned out for Lucy, those unattached strings were, in fact, very much attached. Those two factors and her sudden appearance are what gave me cause to pull a gun on her.

“Relax, honey,” she raises her hands palms out in the universal gesture of surrender, her smirk devious and not at all as seductive as I recall. “I’m here to play nice.”

Right. I find that very, very hard to believe. Lucy does not drop in for visits whenever she’s feeling friendly. Lucy only comes around when she wants something or when it will benefit her in some form. There’s a reason she and Joe get along so well; they both love to start trouble.

Ever since I spotted her following me while out to lunch with Julia I have been on edge, there’s no denying that. I hate that she even laid eyes on Julia—I won’t ever allow the burden of the club to come down on her shoulders, especially not when she has so much else to deal with on top of whatever she feels she can’t tell me.

But Lucy’s sudden appearance… well, this might be a slight complication. I remind myself again, I am done with the club’s business. I have been for a long time, the past year. I have changed. Lucy’s arrival won’t affect that. That much I will make sure of.

“What do you want,” I repeat slowly and with force, suppressing the urge to spit the words from my mouth with distaste. Having learned well from Joe, her mentor in every sense of the word, the moment Lucy senses a button to push or a weak spot to apply pressure, she pounces.

With that knowledge, I opt to remain for the most part impassive. As if she can sense her transparent attempts at calming me are getting her nowhere, Lucy wisely chooses to keep a few feet of distance between us. Her smirk and the hardened glimmer in her eyes don’t once falter.

Even from here I can smell the fragrance she’s worn all these years, an overpowering mixture of musk and a fruity scent which, once you know, you can spot across the room. I don’t miss the way she appraises my form with a hunger I used to find alluring, however, and I suspect Lucy’s feelings for me haven’t changed all that much through my absence. Great. Just what I need.

“I just dropped by to deliver a message,” she says easily, and I don’t bother to ask how she knows where I live. She’s been watching me, ever since last week. I grow sick at the thought of her spying on Julia, too, by extension. She doesn’t deserve to have her privacy invaded in such a cowardly way.

Keeping my stance broad and a hand braced at my hip, close as I can manage to my weapon, I grit my teeth and itch to jump into action. Despite myself I remain silent, simmering, wanting nothing more than to throw her out already. She sticks out like a sore thumb in my home, even more than I do myself.

Lucy makes the error of mistaking my silence for intimidation, which is laughable though just what I would expect from her. She is and always will be too cocky for her own good. As is she believes to be totally safe, she turns around and sits casually down at my sofa, in the same place in front of the coffee table where Jules and I just sat not minutes ago.

From her jeans’ pocket she brings forth a cell phone, sure to do it slowly so as not to lead me to think she’s reaching for her gun. While she taps away at her phone, my already stretched patience thins. “Get out, Lucy.”

She looks up at that, pouting while she feigns hurt. “Don’t you want to hear?”

“Not as much as I want you out of my sight,” I snap. Lucy throws her head back and actually laughs at my reply while I stand there, boiling and trying hard to keep my temper in check. I need to remain at least halfway cool because as much as I don’t like it, I do need to know why Lucy is here—why she let me see her, last week across that fountain when I failed to catch another glimpse of her either before or after.

“We both know that’s not true.” She stands back up and holds her phone out expectantly, and I merely stare at it. As expected, she doesn’t look bothered in the slightest. “Joe sent me to see what’s keeping you.”

Pursing her lips, Lucy shakes her head in what appears to be disappointment, bringing her phone back to look at whatever she has brought up on its screen. No, she isn’t disappointed. She is amused—with a demented sort of humor that puts me even further on edge. “I bet he didn’t think it would be a girl.”

In one instant I lurch from a (just barely so) controlled calm to an incensed rage; I reach forward and snatch the device from Lucy’s hand without a single word, ignoring her satisfied smirk as I do so in an effort not to direct my fury toward her. Though it would be more than deserved.

There, on her phone, are several pictures of me—but that isn’t the worst. They’re of me with Julia. From lunch that day, last week, when I first caught sight of Lucy and all the trouble she would be sure to bring. I clench the phone in my fisted palm, my outrage multiplied, and my jaw ticks as I try to reign in my temper.

“Something about you has changed, Harry,” she dares to muse, coming closer all while my vision tunnels, my anger rising to an explosive level. She knew me when I was at my most volatile, she should know better than to approach me, especially when she is at the root of my problem. Not a smart move on her part, not at all. Her long, manicured nails trailed down my chest, and her touch simultaneously makes my skin crawl and nauseates me.

Before her fingers can slither all the way to the waist of my jeans, I grab her hand and twist her by the wrist in a surely painful maneuver behind her back. The rough action causes her whole body to twist at my will so as not to break the bone I’m clenching so carelessly, allowing my anger to spill over in my hold. I ignore her shocked gasp and push her face first into the closest wall, one that separates the living room from the foyer.

Lucy laughs, pretending to take pleasure in the pain I inflict, though I know she isn’t nearly as twisted as she makes herself out to be on the surface. I know this is all a front, and that makes me angrier. She is weak, weak for succumbing to Joe and becoming his personal little drone.

“Don’t touch me,” I bark out the order. Lucy wiggles her fingers under my tight hold, which only causes me to press her harder into the wall and twist her arm higher on her back while her nose receives most of the impact. I’m close to breaking her arm, I’m sure. She knows better than to test my patience or to provoke me to such a state.

“I find it hard to believe a chick could change the infamous Harry Styles…” she talks fast, nervous now at the position I’ve put her in. She has no room to fight, and this is me proving to her that, even after all this time, she won’t succeed in challenging me. She jerks her head backward slightly, trying to nod to the phone I’ve all but forgotten about in my rage. “But there’s the proof right there. Taking her out to lunch… spending the night at her house. I wonder why I didn’t get to see your romantic side like she does, Harry.”

Though she tries to act confident, Lucy’s voice clearly shakes from the force I expert on her arm, and it hitches at the same time I hear she followed me back to Julia’s house and if possible, I squeeze her arm harder. Good—she deserves to be scared, she should be for making such a low threat on my girl.

If I was anyone else in the club, Lucy could get herself killed just by doing what she’s already done, never mind the fact that she’s doing all of this for Joe. Why she believes me to be the exception to the rule I haven’t the slightest clue—because she must be delusional if she thinks any feelings I could possibly harbour for her would cause me to ‘spare’ her. It’s more like the exact opposite; over the years, my dislike has continued to grow for her, and now it is long past hate.

“Here is what’s going to happen,” I speak lowly with an edged calm I know to be all too intimidating, and I ignore all the senseless crap she just uttered. “You’re going to get the hell out of my house, Lucy, and if I even so much as catch wind or even have the slightest reason to suspect you’re still following Julia, things will not end well for you.”

A few seconds pass in a thick silence as I allow the weight of my words to sink in and have their full effect. Today is the first time I have ever uttered a threat to Lucy, the first time I have ever threatened or hurt a woman, and the first time I truly mean every single word I say when I’m in such a fit of rage.

While my arm still secures her to the wall, I toss the cell phone onto the floor and without any warning I bring the heel of my booted foot down on its screen. Hard. It jumps like popcorn on my sure to be damaged floor, and I take a little of my frustration out on such a small device that could cause me so much trouble. After a couple of stomps, the phone has been flattened to an unrecognizable heap. I roughly shove Lucy away from the wall and out to the foyer.

“Harry!” She finally gapes at my unforgiving pushes, having not been able to form a single protest when I destroyed her phone—which is, for once, wise of her.

Now that she’s facing me, she catches sight of how truly livid I am, and her smirk wavers until it’s wiped totally from her face. For the first time in years, Lucy looks scared. She tries to cover it thickly, however, though her hands shake and I’m sure she can’t even feel one of them.

“Well this has been a nice reunion, but I should probably get going.” I roll my eyes and watch her creep backward toward the elevator like a coward, visibly shaken, unwilling to look away as if she believes I’ll shoot her as soon as she turns her back. “Joe will want an update.”

She poses it as a question, of what she wants me to do now that she has us in such a mess. “You tell him I have business keeping me here,” I order, which gives her pause. “There aren’t any girls keeping me here. If you involve her, Lucy, I swear to you right now I will make your life a living hell.”

With a mute, almost timid nod, Lucy slips into the elevator without another word.

I remain tense long after the doors close and I stride off to dispose of the destroyed cell phone, ensuring it is completely unrecoverable along with the damned pictures of Julia. Telling Joe would be one thing, but showing pictures of her? Needlessly putting Jules, who has done nothing wrong, on such a vile man’s radar is inexcusable.

No. No. I won’t allow it. And while I might have been threatened Lucy more as a scare tactic than anything, I was serious. I refuse to let Julia become caught up in my mess. As I remove my pistol from my jeans and replace it back under the linens in the box at the top corner of my closet, I reassure myself this isn’t that serious. The club has strict rules in not involving innocents, and that’s exactly what Julia is.

Innocent.

And there’s no way in hell I will ever let any harm to come to her.

Notes

Whew. I almost thought I wouldn't get this up for you guys tonight like I promised over on twitter... I've been quite busy today, but I really wanted to get it out for you all!

Okay. I have a few things I absolutely need to address in this note, and I hope you don't mind. I received a message over on tumblr about this story from an anonymous person, and while they don't seem to be impressed with where I'm taking this story I very much respect you and your opinion, whoever you are. I know other readers might be of the same opinion, which is why I want to bring it up here to avoid more messages like this one.

It is indeed taking Julia a long time to tell Harry about her heart condition. This is something I have done intentionally and planned from the very beginning, and it is a very large part of the plot. If she just up and told him out of the blue, what story would be left?

Well, there would be something of course, but that's not how I have plotted this. From the start I saw things from Julia's angle and how very hard it is for her to bring up something so serious, and I do plan to have everything to come to a head. You just have to put a little faith in me :) I know that it must be wrong/my writing skills are at fault and I know you guys are getting impatient, but I can't go back and change a major plot point when I'm 130,000 words into the draft. For that I apologize profusely. It's totally fine if you end up hating this story because of this.

Alright, alright. I'm done with my ramble, and what I really want to talk about now is this chapter. Holy crap! It ended up being so long and so much happened to get the plot rolling for Harry. I'm actually dying to hear what you lovely readers thought about it!

Thank you, everyone, including silent readers and my wonderful commenters and everyone. I appreciate you all so much. This story wouldn't mean nearly as much as it does to me without you.

Belle xx