Go Full Circle E-Book

Scarlett Finn

• Herausgeber: Moriona Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Living in the enemy camp presents new challenges…
 
 
Stretched to almost breaking point, Harlow Sweeting doesn’t find taking orders easy. But she must uphold the façade of compliance to get the information her crew need to take their opponent down.
 
They have to come out on top. If they don’t, she will lose the man she loves. He’s already in self-destruct mode and isn’t taking their separation easy.
 
One way or another, the battle has to end. With her allies help, Harlow has to put the pieces together before her man takes matters into his own hands.
 
 
If he does, there will be no going back.
 
 
Warning: Contains explicit language and imagery. Suitable only for ages 18 and over.

**Book 5 of 5, HEA, no cheating, series complete** 

Leseprobe

Copyright © 2019 Scarlett Finn

Published by Moriona Press 2019

All rights reserved.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

First published in 2019

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form on by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

www.scarlettfinn.com

GO NOVELS

Go With It

Go It Alone

Go All Out

Go All In

Go Full Circle

Read them in order for maximized reading pleasure.

For other titles from Scarlett Finn, please read on after the story.

Click here if you’d like to leave a message for Scarlett.

Enjoy!

CONTENTS

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

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23

24

25

26

27

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29

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31

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33

34

35

36

37

38

39

1

After almost four weeks of being at the beck and call of her mistress, Harlow was used to being barked at and ridiculed. The snide looks and demeaning tasks were commonplace. Sometimes, on rare occasions, Ophelia pretended to be her friend. The duplicity was harder to stomach than the malice.

Wrapped up in the most beautiful of packages, Ophelia Hagan was a bully, pure and simple. There were no other more apt words to describe her. She could simper and compliment with those equal to her or, God forbid, if she found herself in the company of someone who out-snobbed her. But with her underlings—who she saw as less than her in every way—there was always an undertone of contempt or scorn. With Harlow, she usually expressed both.

The last time Harlow had been allowed to attend Windsor’s was the night she’d lost her liberty. Since then, she’d existed in Ophelia’s apartment, carrying out tasks as ordered.

At that present moment, the woman who’d claimed her was pacing in her living room. Striding back and forth across the width of the fireplace, Ophelia spoke about what would be on her schedule that week.

Harlow’s own schedule was clear. Save for her duties to the mistress. She was Ophelia’s lackey morning, noon, and night. Really any time her boss wanted to turn the screws. As difficult as it was to take orders and not push back against the subjugation, Harlow often reminded herself that she’d chosen this path. And that it was for the greater good.

Life could be worse. She wasn’t beaten, and although she was irritated by almost every person in Ophelia’s life, their abuse didn’t extend beyond verbal. At least, it hadn’t yet. Harlow might be playing the dutiful slave, but she hadn’t turned herself off completely. When needed, she didn’t shy from putting others in their place if they thought about taking liberties with her.

“Are you listening, Harlow?” Ophelia asked, pausing mid-pace. “You haven’t taken any notes. I don’t want mistakes. There is no way you’ll be able to remember—”

“Dinners. Corporate drinks. The gym. Breakfast with a girlfriend. Brunch with your family…”

Which Harlow thought was odd given the Hagan family was all dead. Harlow had questioned that appointment the previous month. Ophelia had explained that once a month, she liked to have brunch and reflect on who her family were. To appreciate their memories with herself. No one else was invited. It was typical that she’d chosen brunch too; God forbid she get up too early to show respect.

“Why are you listing everything I’m doing this week?”

It was Harlow’s way of showing that she had been paying attention. Not that playing assistant required a lot of brainpower. For the past month, her life had been nothing but a carousel of these meetings and preparing Ophelia for her life.

“You want clothes and accessories prepared. You want drinks and food setup. It’s my job to make available what you need. All I need to know is the events you have. From there, I can work out what I’m doing,” Harlow said. “I really don’t need your feelings on every single subject and meeting.”

“Aren’t you sassy today,” Ophelia said, letting her fingers open in the ends of her hair. “Time of the month? Maybe not. Seems you’re always moody. I don’t know how he lived with you.”

Ryske.

Even when Harlow had been living with him, and sleeping with him, he hadn’t been as constant a feature in her life as he was at Ophelia’s. Talking about him, in some respect, was Ophelia’s favorite hobby. It was possible Ophelia was so vocal in her obsession with him because Harlow was around. But she couldn’t be a hundred percent sure about that. Maybe the woman had always been this chatty about her infatuation.

Ophelia could find a way to bring him up in the most random of moments. It would be an impressive skill, if it wasn’t so conniving and pathetic. Even if she hadn’t come to resent her new boss in the way she had, Harlow would still feel the same way.

Everything about Harlow’s life was controlled by the woman who was prattling on about the importance of always being a lady even when one’s mood wished to do otherwise. It was amazing that Ophelia could clamber up on that high horse and deliver such a haughty speech in light of what she’d done.

Harlow was half a second away from asking if murder was ladylike when the front door opened. Someone strode in. She didn’t even turn around. She didn’t have to. Anyone else would’ve knocked and waited to be invited. Not him.

“Darling, Ryske!” Ophelia exclaimed and opened both arms.

Ryske strode past the couch that Harlow was sitting on without so much as looking at her sideways. She was used to it, but it still left a bad taste in her mouth. That taste was almost joined by bile when she watched Ryske kiss each of Ophelia’s cheeks and then pull her into his arms.

“You look good today, Fi,” he said, sliding a hand down her back.

Harlow appreciated that he kept himself angled away from her when he showed Ophelia any kind of interest or affection. Not that his consideration did much to quell her urge to kick his ass. Though the white strip of fabric wrapped around his hand suggested maybe somebody had gotten there before her.

She hadn’t seen his face because, knowing he wouldn’t acknowledge her, she hadn’t bothered to look up when he went past. But, from what she could see, it definitely appeared that his knuckles had been bandaged.

Ophelia laughed. “I always look good,” she said, pulling herself to Ryske’s side and stroking a hand up and down his chest. “We were just talking about you.”

“Always happy to know my name is on those lips,” he said, cupping Ophelia’s jaw and trying to raise her focus while brushing his thumb across her mouth.

Ophelia was weak and entranced. Her rapture was obvious from the color in her cheeks and the looseness of her body. She couldn’t resist being in Ryske’s arms and absorbing his compliments. Harlow doubted his motivation even mattered; Ophelia just wanted to be under his focus.

Being ensnared in his spotlight could be intoxicating. In the times Harlow had been under his spell, she’d never cared about his motivation. Sometimes she tried to, but it never lasted. Something about the texture of his fingers and the warmth of his breath coupled with the pound of his heart got through every time. It made her vulnerable to giving him whatever he wanted.

Ryske could control every part of his anatomy. At least, it seemed he could. Even those parts that worked on mechanics rather than choice.

While Ophelia could claim to have known Ryske for longer, Harlow better knew his amour. If he really wanted to be kissing Ophelia, he’d be kissing her. The grip he had on her jaw was intended to imply urgency. Like he meant business. Like he was holding tight. But the force wasn’t close to what he would use if he wanted to demand her mouth.

Caught up in the seduction, Ophelia hadn’t been aware of Ryske’s bandages until the fabric rubbed on her delicate cheek. “Oh, my sweet, what happened?” she asked, taking one of his hands in both of hers. “Did you hurt yourself again?”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” he said and took a piece of paper from his back pocket to hand it over. “These are our figures for last week… There’s an upward trend.”

“Just as we thought,” Ophelia said, taking the paper from him to open it. When she read the numbers, her eyes bulged before she did a double take. “This is enough for the basement renovations.”

“Yeah,” Ryske said, bobbing his head in agreement.

“Did you look at the plans?”

“I did.”

Being evasive wasn’t going to earn him any points with Ophelia. Though, if there was anyone who could get away with pissing her off, it was Ryske.

As proved when Ophelia laughed and drove a knuckle into his upper arm. “Well, silly, what did you think? Did you call the contractor?”

This time, he shook his head. “Nah, I don’t like his plans.”

A wide smile spread on Ophelia’s face. She moved in closer, pressing her body to his. “If there’s anyone I trust to optimize sexual experience, it’s you.”

His chin dipped, but he didn’t crouch, so Harlow figured he wanted to avoid kissing her. Not that she could use her own experience as an honest barometer because Ophelia was taller than her. Maybe if the hostess pushed up, she’d be able to reach him anyway. Instead of a kiss, Ryske did his mesmerized thing, where he treated Ophelia like the only person in the room.

Harlow was the only other one around. Neither Ryske nor Ophelia had any trouble acting like she was invisible. The idea of doing something shocking to throw him off his game was tempting. Considering how he might react if she took off her clothes or crept up behind him to slip her hand into his pants, Harlow giggled to herself. It hadn’t been deliberate, but her laugh broke the moment between the couple.

Both turned toward her wearing similar annoyed expressions.

“I’m sorry,” Harlow said, her smile still flirting with her face. Leaning back, she crossed her legs and waved an absent hand at them. “I’m sorry, carry on.”

“Is something funny?” Ophelia snapped.

Ryske could get away with being an asshole; Ophelia laughed his rudeness off. In contrast, Harlow’s laughter, a happy sound, was met with anger.

“No,” Harlow said, shaking her head and curling a finger into the loop of her necklace to pull it side to side. “I was just thinking of something… in my head.”

“What?” Ophelia asked, raising her fists to her hips. “What were you thinking of?”

“It’s nothing, really,” Harlow said. “Really. Carry on.”

“I told you to correct your mood today,” Ophelia said. “Didn’t I?”

Pondering the question for a second, Harlow let her eyes roll upward. “No. You asked if I was on my period because I was sassy… If one caused the other, I’d be menstruating three hundred and sixty-five days a year.”

The corner of Ryske’s mouth reacted, and she noticed it. Ophelia saw her noticing and turned to him.

Before Ophelia caught sight of it, Ryske flattened his reaction and slid his arms around her again. “Ignore her, Fi,” he said. “She’s here for a reason, and it’s not to entertain us.”

Straightening her arms, Ophelia let them stretch to his shoulders and drape around his neck. “I love this new you, Ryske,” she said. “Have I told you that recently?”

“Not nearly enough,” Ryske said and began to lower.

Sensing the kiss was coming, Harlow tipped her face away to avert her gaze from what would be a hideous sight.

“Miss Hagan.”

The interruption was enough to make Ryske forget his trajectory. They all twisted to see Penzance coming from the hallway, looking through the papers in his hands. Harlow grinned. He was good. By all appearances, he was completely oblivious to what he’d just interrupted. But she’d come to know him so much better in the last month. Nothing he did was an accident.

“Oh, Vane,” Ophelia said, chastising him, coming across as a petulant child.

Penzance stopped reading and looked up, doing a good job of appearing surprised by what he’d found. “Oh, I didn’t realize… Want me to come back?”

But it was too late. Ryske was already withdrawing, putting a foot of space between himself and the woman he’d just been holding. Harlow tried to figure out if he would’ve let her go in the same situation. When they’d been together, he’d never shied from holding her or touching her, no matter who else was in the room.

“You’re here now,” Ophelia said, tsking at him. “What is it you want?”

“These emails came through,” Penzance said, holding them up. “You’ve got some final figures you need to approve and your auction is about to end…”

Ophelia looked at her watch and huffed out a breath before stomping across the room. She grabbed the papers from Penzance who slipped his hands in his pockets and looked over the top of Ophelia’s head to make eye contact.

“Thank you,” Harlow mouthed over the back of the couch, knowing no one else would see it.

“You slacking, Sweeting?” Penzance asked.

“Much as I can, Vane,” she said, lounging in a slouch.

Penzance sauntered past Ophelia. The lady of the manor was distracted, leafing through the sheets he’d handed her.

“I heard a rumor about you,” Penzance said, dropping onto the couch beside her.

“A rumor about little me?” Harlow asked, slapping a hand onto his thigh. “It can’t possibly be true…” Despite her assertion, she slanted herself toward him. “Is it dirty?”

“Little bit,” he said, and twisted to cup a hand around her ear so he could whisper. “You never wear panties.”

Something made her eyes slink toward Ryske at the same time her lips curled. With his hands in his pockets and his eyes on her, her love was trying to remain indifferent. Her salacious smile made his brow twitch.

“Who told you that?” she asked.

Penzance straightened. “Doesn’t matter, is it true?”

“It matters,” Harlow said, but was still grinning when she poked her friend. “You knew that about me already anyway… How could you forget something like that?”

The night they’d met she’d told him she wasn’t wearing underwear. Harlow couldn’t be explicit about that in front of Ophelia. As far as Harlow knew, her boss was unaware that she and Penzance had met before they both came to work together.

Penzance was smart enough to recall what she was referring to. “I didn’t know it was a permanent thing,” he said. “I thought it was just that one time… A permanent thing is definitely hotter.”

“You’re spending too much time with Brash. He’s obsessed with my habits. It’s rubbing off on you.”

“Brash is obsessed with you,” Penzance said and slid an arm around her. “I’m more subtle in my approach.”

This time it was Ryske’s jaw that moved. Harlow was almost sure she could hear his teeth grinding.

“I have to make a phone call,” Ophelia said, her voice distracted. “I’ll just be a few minutes. Harlow, you remember what I told you about being good. If you behave for the rest of the week, I’ll let you come to Windsor’s on Friday night… So don’t dare think about breaking the rules.” The rules had a lot to do with not seducing Ryske. Ophelia had told her not to think of Ryske in that way, but policing someone’s thoughts was difficult. Harlow looked over the back of the couch at the same time Ophelia pinned her sights on Penzance. “Vane, you do not leave this room.”

That was code for “don’t leave Harlow alone with Ryske.” They knew the setup. No matter how much Ophelia believed that Ryske was into her, she still wouldn’t let them be left alone. Harlow wondered what Ophelia feared. What was it that she was supposed to do to Ryske, against his will, that he couldn’t fight off?

2

Ophelia left the room. Harlow didn’t even have a chance to turn all the way back around before Ryske was rushing over to the couch.

“Move your fucking ass,” Ryske said to Penzance who was already sliding away to the other end of the couch, giving Ryske room to sit beside her.

“You know—”

Harlow’s words were cut off by Ryske scooping a hand around her head. Bypassing her jaw, he cupped her head beneath her ear and forced her mouth to his. Just as she’d thought. He didn’t give her an opportunity to refuse his kiss. He wasn’t subtle or playful or hesitant. There was no touching her lips and stroking her; he just took what he wanted without teasing or waiting for an invitation.

Planting her hands on his chest, Harlow pushed back. Not that her resistance discouraged him. Ryske persisted. With his body looming over hers, there wasn’t much space to go anywhere. Especially not while he was using his strong grip on her head to direct her.

“Trink, there’s no time for coy,” he said and tried to force her mouth up again.

“There’s no time for that either,” she said and pulled a USB from her cleavage to slip it into his pocket. “There are records from the company, financials mostly. I don’t know exactly. I don’t think everything is there, but if Maze can—”

Ryske kissed her again, driving his tongue so deep in her mouth that she had to gasp for breath.

She pushed harder to separate them, ducking her head down at the same time. “My boss thinks you can’t defend yourself against me,” Harlow teased, taking Ophelia’s order as an aspersion on her scruples not Ryske’s. “Just call out for help if I touch your winkie.”

“Touch it,” he said, letting go of her face to grab her hand to press it against his fly.

“Please don’t,” Penzance groaned. The nausea in his tone made her smile.

Harlow took her hand back, but not because of Penzance. “I’m not getting you hard for her,” she objected, stealing his hand to present his bandages between them. “What happened here?” Ryske tugged his hand from hers, but she wouldn’t give up so easy and hauled it back to her. “You’re fighting again.”

“It’s nothing.”

“That’s what you said to her,” Harlow said, touching the graze that was on his cheekbone just beneath his eye. “I’m not her. Answer me, Crash. Are you fighting again?” He nodded, so she smacked his chest. “Why are you so goddamn angry all the time?”

“Why?” he asked, pushing away from her. His face contorted with rage. “Why?” He flew off the couch to pace to the fireplace and back to her, thrusting an arm toward the hallway door. “I want to break her neck… You know how easy it would be to—”

“Don’t,” she said, thrusting to her feet. It wasn’t easy to argue in these hushed snaps of anger, but she wasn’t going to bend or shrink just because he was having a fit. “Don’t you dare think about fucking this up.”

Ryske got in her face. “You have two choices, babydoll. Either I fuck her or I kill her. Those are your options. Decide.”

“No,” she said, shoving his arm down. “My options include reminding you that it sickens me to see you touching her. You think it’s easy for me to be ignored by you? Do you think I like watching you hold her and kiss her and—”

“Then let me—”

“No,” she said, a little louder than maybe she should have, so she lowered her volume again. “You are going to toe the line because it’s what we do.” She showed him her stars. “Have you ever fucked up a job before?” His lack of response was response enough. “Why start now?” Much as she could match his anger, she could also match his frustration. It was that which made her soften to touch his jaw. “I know what you feel. I feel it too. I feel it every time she makes a jibe about us or she belittles me. I think about how easy it would be to choke her. But transfer of ownership will take maybe as much as another two weeks. I told you, we’re playing this straight until then. I will take her crap. I will do my best to gather all the intel I can. You will do your best to be attracted to her new powerful side.”

“It’s never been like this before,” he said.

She hated to see him on the edge of defeat. “Because we’ve never had to do this before,” she whispered, moving in closer, sliding her other hand over his stubble. “Not like this… If it’s too much, don’t come back.”

That made his attention snap up. “What?”

“If you can’t handle this… If seeing me and being nice to her is making you so angry… Go and don’t come back… I’ll find you when I’m done.”

The way he gripped her waist tight betrayed that his determination was returning. “I’d rather see you for five minutes once or twice a week, and not be able to touch you, than never see you at all.”

They didn’t usually have any excuse to touch or kiss. Harlow had only had the pleasure of his mouth one other time since leaving the club on the night Ophelia had won her.

“I want to see you too. God, Crash, I miss you so much,” she murmured. “It gives me strength to be close to you. You remind me why we’re doing this, what I’m doing this for.”

He kissed her. Slipping her hand under his tee-shirt, she scratched his abs. Her nails on his tattoos had always had the effect of soothing him; he needed that medicine now.

“Have you been touched?” he asked, searching her gaze. “I need to know you’re okay here.” He glanced at Penzance. “Is that fucker looking after you?”

“He does his best,” she said.

Harlow had made the suggestion of Ryske getting Penzance a job with Ophelia, so her love would have backup. Yet, he’d ended up protecting her. Penzance was the closest thing she had to an ally on the inside. They’d never worked together before. She hadn’t known him well, which meant she’d had no idea how reliable or how talented he was.

Harlow was pleased to be surprised, not only by his professionalism, but by his skills. Penzance was good. He knew when to be indifferent, what to pretend to miss, and what to see. He managed to maintain his loyalty to Ophelia without making the woman question it, even though he was obvious about developing a friendship with her.

“If you ever need out, you just walk,” Ryske said. “You know we’ll find a way to fix it. Your safety—”

“I can take care of myself, Crash. You know I can. Living with Brash is no picnic. Ophelia put me with him so he could watch me.”

“Yeah,” Ryske said, clenching his jaw. “How often?”

“You have to stop worrying about my body and what’s happening to it,” she said, cradling his hands in hers to show his bandages. “Worry about yours. Stop fighting, Ryske.”

His jaw tightened. “I have to do something,” he hissed. “I can’t sit there with the acid eating through me… Do you know what it does to me to be kept away from you? Do you know how I drive myself nuts thinking you might need me and I might not be there?”

“It’s what you expected me to do when we thought she’d want you,” Harlow said. “We thought you’d have to go to her bed and we reconciled ourselves to that.”

“Wow,” Penzance said, drawing both their attentions. “You guys are fucking solid, aren’t you?”

Harlow smiled while Ryske just ignored him. “That’s not the same. Do you know what these bastards could do to you?”

“Do I know?” she asked, almost offended by the suggestion she was naïve. “Do I fucking know?” She socked his shoulder. “Want to take off your shirt and I’ll give you the rundown on the PTSD I’ve gotten from your scars? Passing out is easy, Crash. Dying is easy. You did both and I was the one left behind.”

“Baby—”

When he tried to touch her face, she blocked his arm and thrust it away. “Do you remember the night you came back to life? Seeing that man force himself between my legs? Do you remember what he tried to do to me?”

The question was rhetorical. If he had forgotten, he couldn’t love her as much as he’d claimed to in the past. “Trink—”

“Don’t you fucking dare tell me I don’t know; don’t even imply it. I know exactly what these men are capable of, and I know exactly how to fight for myself.”

Ryske lost his softness and got defensive. “And if they drug you? If they beat you? How many guys does Brash know? How many guys could he bring back to—”

“I would beg every single one of them to fuck me before I’d even think about letting down my crew.”

He stepped back, his head moving side to side. “Good,” he said, though he was still kind of shaking his head. “Thank you for telling me that, baby.” She wasn’t sure she liked the sinister calm that crept over him. “ ‘Cause it makes it easier to tell you the plan… If you’re not out of here within two weeks, I’m moving in… with her.”

The statement felt more like a threat than a plan.

The implication that he’d give himself to Ophelia in defiance of what she was doing prickled her anger. “You’re going to sleep with her.”

The curl of a laugh left the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I’m gonna do more than that, baby,” he said, swaggering to her. “I’m going to make love to her like it’s my wedding night with you. I’m going to make her fall so goddamn hard that she’ll be begging me to put a ring on her finger again. She won’t just get the Ryske experience, she’ll get me, all of me. Fidelity. Forever.”

“Why would you do that?” she asked, angry and heartbroken both at the same time. “Why would you—”

“Because we all agreed way back when that there were only two paths out of here. We take her down or we give in.”

“Giving in means giving her you,” Harlow said.

“She’ll never hurt you again; never come near any of you. If she has me, she’ll think she’s in control, and she’ll be happy. That’s all she wants.”

“All she wants is you,” Harlow snapped. “For you to be at her sexual beck and call, remember?”

“It’s more than sex,” he said. “You told me it was love… There’s a difference between the two.”

It was cruel to imply she needed to be told that. His jibe just stoked her infuriation. “You can’t make yourself fall in love with her, Ryske. That’s impossible.”

“What I feel is irrelevant,” he spat. “You’ve taught me that just by being here. You’ve taught me over and over again that my feelings mean nothing.”

Her anger left her as her mouth opened; hurt took its place. “Crash, how could you—”

“I told you I would take your place… you never listened.”

“This isn’t about jail.”

“No, it’s not,” he said. “But if you’d listened to me before I died and just stayed with Marlowe—”

“Oh my God,” she breathed and then pushed his chest. “You asshole, we are not going all the way back there. I am not the person he wanted me to be. I am not the person you thought I was back then either. Why the hell would you ask me to apologize for loving you? I’m so sorry I ruined your fake death.”

“If you’d just done what you were told, what we discussed, you’d be safe now.”

“You don’t know that.”

This conversation would take longer than the time they had. Penzance must have realized the same thing. The couch moved at the back of her legs until the denim of his jeans met her skin. Her ally had shifted back along to his previous position.

“You’d never have gotten involved with Ophelia, or Parratt, or Pothos. You’d never have wound up in jail, or the fire, or the hospital.”

Ryske didn’t just mean if she’d done what she was told. He meant if they’d never met. If they’d never fallen for each other. And he wasn’t wrong. If she had never met Ryske, or had returned to Rupert, many things would be different.

Hagan might be alive; the evidence room guard too. The fire might not have happened. Floyd’s might be intact. Anwen wouldn’t have come out of hiding and she wouldn’t have endured the horrific beating at Animal’s hands.

Ryske seemed satisfied that he’d made his point and turned to begin walking away.

Harlow’s quiet voice broke the silence. “If I had stayed with Rupert, we wouldn’t have found each other again or made love in my parents’ house either. We wouldn’t have seen the potential of what we could be.” He moved in an arc until he faced her. With a new fuel in her fire, she raised her arm to show her stars again. “I wouldn’t have these. My sister wouldn’t have her future secured. My crew would have stayed ripped from their home… Yes, Ryske, lots of shit has happened to us, but I wouldn’t trade a second of my time in jail or hospital if it meant sacrificing one that I had with you.”

There was only a moment of time for him to respond if he wanted to. Except it seemed he didn’t. He said nothing and only became more intense. Harlow dropped onto the couch next to Penzance who put an arm around her. Their position was exactly the same as before, Ryske’s too. Like it had been planned, Ophelia returned in that moment.

“That was irritating,” Ophelia said, striding across the room to return to Ryske’s side. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Forgive me for abandoning you?”

“Yeah, he ignored us underlings,” Penzance said. “Har and I made out to pass the time. It’s fine.”

Ophelia slid an arm around Ryske’s waist. “My Ryske has time for people from all levels of society. Don’t you, honey?”

Her Ryske. It almost made Harlow laugh again. The woman didn’t have a damn clue who he was. He could be her prince, sure, but he could also be her worst enemy. Harlow knew that from personal experience.

“What a guy,” Penzance said in such an ambiguous way that it could be taken as truth or mocking.

Ophelia chose to take it as the first. At least, she didn’t care enough to pay attention to him or respond.

“I can make it up to you,” Ophelia said, sliding a hand across Ryske’s chest and then letting it descend his torso. “If you want to come through to my bedroom—”

“I’ve got places to be today,” Ryske said, snapping out of whatever trance he’d been in for long enough to kiss the top of Ophelia’s head. “Another time.”

“Next time?” Ophelia asked, following him when he started for the door.

“Yeah,” Ryske said. “Maybe. Take it easy, Fi.”

The door slammed and Harlow didn’t bother to turn around. He was gone. His departure was far from discreet. She just wished he hadn’t left her with this damn anger and all these questions. Could he really give himself to Ophelia? If it saved her life, he could, but this wasn’t about life and death. Being there was an inconvenience. Harlow was watched and chaperoned every minute, but she wasn’t afraid.

It hadn’t been about life and death not until he’d said he’d give his life to Ophelia. That was the reality of what he’d suggested. He didn’t mean he’d sacrifice his life, he meant he’d give Ophelia the future that he’d once promised to Harlow.

3

Harlow was still getting over what Ryske had said about her returning to Rupert when Ophelia appeared around the end of the couch. Strolling along, she was loose and sighing like a woman in the clutches of new love. Although, in truth, what she was going through was far from new. Ophelia had wanted Ryske for as long as she’d known him.

“I often wonder,” Ophelia said, continuing her glide all the way to the fireplace where she traced a finger along the mantel. “How do you feel when you see me with him?”

Harlow looked up just as Ophelia turned to show her subdued, yet curious, smile. Ophelia was great at talking about herself and that was usually the context in which she brought up Ryske. She’d mentioned her feelings, and what she thought of Ryske’s, but she’d never been so direct in asking Harlow about her perspective.

“What do you want me to say, Ophe?”

“Do you ache when you see him?” Ophelia asked.

Harlow knew what answer she wanted to hear and imagined it would give Ophelia great pleasure to see Harlow broken and begging for mercy.

Instead she muttered, “Yeah, I never did get over that yeast infection.”

Penzance laughed, but Ophelia huffed, taking great offense. “You’re so rude.”

“I’m rude?” Harlow said.

Ophelia sucked in a breath and stormed away, slamming into the hallway, leaving Harlow alone with Penzance. There was no real hurry for either of them to be anywhere. At least, there was none for her to be anywhere. She appreciated Penzance not getting up to run away; he was the only thing she had resembling a friend nearby.

“You are a little bit rude, you know,” Penzance muttered out the corner of his mouth.

With a smile, she nudged her elbow into his ribs. “Do you blame me when there are so many assholes around here?” she asked and then rested her head on his arm. “Except you. You’re not an asshole.”

He slapped a hand to his chest. “Oh, you wound me. I’ll just have to keep trying.”

“Please don’t,” she said and closed her eyes.

Dropping her guard wasn’t usually an option. Even in spite of her trust in Penzance, Harlow wasn’t wild about the idea of him knowing she was gathering herself. It helped that he couldn’t see her face in this position. Sometimes she got so tired of being alert all the time. Napping meant giving someone the chance to catch you unaware, so she wouldn’t let herself do it.

“Wish I’d got to see more of you two together,” he said. “You’ve got some history. I could tell there was something weird about your relationship the night we met. You were like… connected. Even when he was flirting with Kylie and you weren’t even looking at each other, there was an awareness about you… I don’t think he meant what he said about Marlowe.”

Penzance had dated a friend of Harlow’s sister. Through that relationship, Penzance had learned quite a bit about the Sweetings, including Harlow. Without her telling him, he’d also known that she was once engaged to the guy who impregnated Lena. The wedding was being planned as they spoke. Not that Harlow could be a part of it. She had missed all of the planning while stuck at Ophelia’s.

Her new life involved some strict rules. Phones and the internet were off-limits. Harlow guessed Ophelia feared her calling Ryske, or reinforcements. Even if she had to order food or clothes for Ophelia, she wasn’t allowed to place the order on her own. She had to write it down and give it to Brash, who enjoyed having power over her life almost as much as Ophelia did.

“It was all planned,” she said. “Ryske told me to go back to Rupert and I was going.”

“Why?” Penzance asked, genuine incredulous curiosity in his voice. “I remember Lena talking about how you and Marlowe weren’t happy. You left the guy because you didn’t love him. Why go back?”

Breathing in, she thought about that time, which felt like so long ago. “Because it was him who helped me when I thought I’d lost Ryske,” she said. “Ophelia and I came up with the plan to go in half each on Pothos. It was part of our grander scheme to avenge Ryske, who’d been shot by Animal on Jarvis Hagan’s order.”

She almost laughed. Back then, rage and resolve coursed through her in equal measure. In retrospect, it seemed incredible. Though, if she found herself in the same position again, she’d probably act in the same way.

“How did Marlowe help you?”

“He gave me the money,” she said. “A half a million dollars, no questions asked.”

“And the bargain was you go back to him?”

Sitting up straight, she smoothed her hands down her skirt. “Yep,” she said. “He was good about it and didn’t pressure me. The point was to do what I had to do, and then go back to the life he’d wanted us to have.” Realizing her mouth was working without the backup of her brain, Harlow turned quickly to grab his hand. “Lena doesn’t know. No one knows, except Ryske and the guys. I—”

“Your secret’s safe,” Penzance said, touching the end of her chin. “Don’t think I’ll be talking to Emma again any time soon anyway.”

When he put his arm around her and pulled her against his side, Harlow let him take her, getting the sense that he needed some comfort of his own. “Do you ever miss her?”

“Em?” he asked. “No more than I ever miss any of them. We weren’t… you know.”

He’d tell her it wasn’t real. Maybe it wasn’t. Yet, it seemed there was something more to how the relationship ended than he was letting on.

“Relationships suck, don’t they?” she asked.

“Not yours. Ryske’s just being a guy. He wants to be between you and trouble. While you’re here, he can’t be… He does love you.”

Harlow didn’t doubt that, but that didn’t mean his words couldn’t hurt or that he wouldn’t mean them. At the same time Ryske told her to go back to Rupert, he’d been in love with her. He hadn’t told her then, but he’d since told her. Loving her hadn’t stopped him faking his death.

Breaking her heart was a side-effect; collateral damage to making a unilateral decision about what was best for her. Penzance couldn’t know any of that, but he was right about one thing, Ryske was being a guy… a jerk of a guy.

Harlow knew her man. She didn’t know how Penzance had reached his conclusion. “How do you know that?” she asked.

“Because I’ve known Ryske a long time.”

“You’ve known all of them for a long time.” Easing their bodies apart, he peeked down at her. “Yes, Ryske and I do talk… I know you’re from the neighborhood.”

He nestled her to his side again. “Some of the things he told you just amaze me,” he said. “Ryske doesn’t trust anyone.”

“He trusts his crew.”

“All of them are suspicious assholes.”

“That makes you one too,” she said. “You ran with them. Learned with them… That stands for something… Means more than even someone like me.”

“What does that mean?”

She sighed. “Sure, Ryske loves me. But his ability to trust me has always been in question.”

“If you fucked around on him once—”

“I’ve never fucked around on him,” she said, but released some of her bluster and sagged. “If I had, maybe I’d be able to understand why he feels it’s so necessary to hide things from me. Every time I think I’ve gotten through to him, I find out something new… I don’t know if we’ll be able to hold up to it again.”

“I guess he feels the same way, which might be why he’s telling you about his plan here,” Penzance said. “Honey, I can’t tell you what’s going to happen with your relationship or any of this shit. An old friend of mine used to say something that’s helped me out plenty of times. Get what you like and like what you’ve got. Means—”

“I know what it means,” she said and smiled. “It means we’re in control of our own actions and that we have to make lemonade no matter what fruit we’re given…”

“Dover trusts you too, huh?” Penzance said. “Floyd used to say it all the time when one of us was bitching about something. Sometimes life gives us shit we don’t want. But if we’ve got it, we might as well get used to it and find a way to make the best of it, because it’s not going anywhere.”

Opening her mouth, she pulled in a breath. “You’re right. Dover’s right. Floyd’s right…” She sat up again and ran her fingers through her hair. Taking some time to compose herself, Harlow got her head back in the right mindset to face the day. “Why can’t someone tell Ryske that?”

His smile became a grin as he stood up and grabbed her hands to haul her onto her feet. “Honey, no one changes that much. No one ever told Ryske anything he didn’t want to hear.”

That was the truth. Harlow could tell him one thing and he’d hear the opposite. Like when she’d told him she wouldn’t sleep with him or that they were breaking up. Ryske wasn’t fazed, he just contradicted her and let it bounce off.

There was little comfort in that truth. If he was out fighting every night, he wasn’t letting it bounce off this time. His rage was something he was always in control of. He made a point of that. His father had been violent and he didn’t want to follow that example.

This was a difficult time. Knowing she was doing it for her crew helped to push her through it. But Ryske felt helpless. Harlow could identify with that feeling. She’d feared being in his position when they thought Ophelia was going to claim him at the card game.

Time dragged while she was under Ophelia’s command, but she had plenty to keep her busy. In contrast, Ryske was at home. Even the refurbishments at Floyd’s wouldn’t distract him from knowing she was out in the world and possibly in peril.

Harlow needed him to trust her. She was going to do this whether she had his support or not. But at the end of it, she didn’t know what would remain of the life she’d left behind.

4

Living with Brash was a nightmare.

Ophelia would never lower herself to live with her minions. Instead, she leased the apartment directly below her own for her employees. Such proximity meant they could be on hand for anything she needed any minute of the day.

As if just living with the goons wasn’t bad enough, Harlow had to put up with Brash’s idiot friends too. Most of them also worked for Ophelia; they just lived elsewhere. They liked to come by unannounced on a regular basis to disrupt any modicum of peace she managed to carve out.

That night was no different. Brash and his friends were in the living room, playing cards. Well, that was the cover. As far as she could tell, they were spending more time shouting at the sports game on TV and jeering each other than they were at the table she’d set up for them at Brash’s command.

Taking orders from Brash was a kick in the teeth. Ophelia had been clear about the hierarchy and Brash was above her, so she had no choice except to obey. That didn’t prevent Harlow from resenting him. Keeping up with chores around the apartment was fine. It wasn’t like any of the guys were going to bother. If it was cook and clean or sit around playing social with Brash, she’d take chores any day.

She’d just put a new bowl of potato chips on the card table when someone touched her ass. Touching, she didn’t tolerate that. They could leer at her chest and comment on her ass. Neither got a reaction out of her. Looking and speaking, she let go. It gave her a sense of power to ignore and irritate them by being impervious.

Hands making contact with her was a different ballgame. For one thing, she knew how fast these situations could escalate. Especially when the men were in a group goading each other on.

Slapping the hand away, she straightened the bowl of chips and then walked away to collect some of the mess strewn around the room. There were peanut shells and empty beer bottles all over the place. It was insane that they were happy to live like pigs in this upscale apartment.

“Ah, look at her playing shy,” one of the guys said. He could be the one who’d touched her, she didn’t know or care. Harlow found it best to just roll her eyes off them, or to ignore them completely. “Thought you said she was a horny bitch, Brash.”

Brash snickered. “Maybe you don’t got the touch. Minute you guys walk out of here, she’ll be all over me.”

He wished. Harlow had noticed the way he leered at her. Almost every time they were together, he made some kind of sexual comment. She had no intention of giving him any kind of satisfaction. If it made him feel like more of a man to boast to his ridiculous buddies that he was having sex with a woman who despised him, she wasn’t going to waste the energy protesting. Anyone who mattered to her would know in a heartbeat that it was a lie.

Penzance didn’t hang around with Brash by choice. Their only link was their employer. Harlow had seen them being civil, friendly even. But Penzance always made an excuse when it came to socializing with the asshole and Harlow didn’t blame him.

Collecting the trash and dishes, she sighed, signaling, in her own way, that she thought he was pathetic. Without saying a word, she took everything into the kitchen. Separating the trash from what needed to be washed, she didn’t look up when the door opened. Making the assumption that someone was coming in for more beer, she kept her head down.

It would be a cold day in hell before Brash would get his own drink. He’d rather holler at her, especially when his buddies were around. But some of the other guys didn’t mind snooping in the kitchen.

She leaned over the counter, past the knife block, to reach the discarded food wrappers, intending to clean up.

Someone came up behind her. Pushing his hips into her ass, whoever he was, he liked what he saw. Her lip curled in disgust when he began to grind his proud erection against her.

“What is it you’d do for him… huh?”

Brash’s voice was low, but it wasn’t seductive. At least, if that’s what he was going for, he missed the mark. Someone as evil as him couldn’t conceal their true nature, not even in an intimate moment.

“You’ll never know,” she said.

With her hands on the counter, and her toes barely touching the floor, she wasn’t in a great position to fight.

“I heard you like it rough,” Brash said, still rubbing himself against her. He snaked both hands around, under her arms to grope her breasts. “Danger turns you on.”

She tipped her chin toward her shoulder, but was glad she couldn’t quite see him. “I can tell it gets you hot,” she said. “If you weren’t into danger, you wouldn’t have your hands on me right now.”

He snickered. “You think I’m afraid of him? That fucker is far, far away. He can’t save you now.”

It sort of amused her that everyone assumed she couldn’t take care of herself. She’d completed self-defense classes before moving to the city, and had trained with Costello who taught more than the right way to fight. He taught her to fight dirty as well.

Even without those lessons, it was a mistake to underestimate her sheer will. Despising the man who had the audacity to put his hands on her increased her determination. She would rather die fighting than give in to the man who’d put a blade in her love. Though, part of her should be grateful for that wound. If Brash hadn’t stabbed Ryske, she may never have met her crew. Still, she wasn’t going to express her gratitude in any sexual way.

“I’m not afraid of you, Brash,” she said, ignoring his hands kneading her chest and the line of his dick on her ass. It pulsed as he picked up his pace and pushed harder. “But you are afraid of him.”

Harlow wouldn’t go down without a fight and wasn’t going to miss a chance to taunt the man who took such pleasure in taunting her.

He spat out disgust in a burst of laughter. “I don’t fucking think so.”

“Really?” she asked, pushing her head further around. “If you’re not afraid of him, why wouldn’t you tell him to his face that you’re fucking me? You’re proud to boast about it in front of your Neanderthal friends. Why don’t you try this shit in front of him?”

“I took him down once, I’ll do it again,” he said. “That knife went in real sweet last time. I won’t forget to twist it next time.”

“That’s a good tip,” she said. “Thanks for that.”

Grabbing a knife from the block, she thrust back with all her strength. Using the width of her hips to force him back, she twisted to flip around and brought the knife up in an arc, slashing Brash across his cheek.

He screamed out. “You fucking bitch!”

He touched the blood on his cheekbone. When he saw it, he was quick to respond by smacking her across the face, sending her tumbling to the side. Harlow didn’t go down. Although her face felt like it was ready to explode, she was grateful to be free of the island he’d pinned her against. He was still between her and the door. Retreating around the island, keeping it between them was an option. Speed and agility were on her side, and she didn’t doubt her stamina. The only thing he had on her was strength, and Costello had taught her a few tricks for using that to her advantage.

Her confidence wavered when the kitchen door opened and Animal burst in. Animal was bigger and more insane than Brash. She’d reasoned with him once and had a feeling that was the only pass she’d get from him.

“What the hell?” Animal said, absorbing the scene and registering the thin slice of blood trickling down Brash’s cheek. “She fucking did that?”

Animal didn’t ask why or even hesitate, he began to rush toward her. She turned the knife, praying that she’d have the strength to use it on him before he used it on her.

“Stop,” Brash said. His order worked on Animal, which shocked her. Altruism was what motivated the maniac. That became obvious when he turned his sneer on her. “You’re gonna be mine, little girl.”

“Never,” she spat.

He laughed again. Oh, how she’d come to despise that sound. “You don’t even get it. You think Ophelia wants you running her errands and pressing her clothes forever? She doesn’t give a damn about you. This is all about him.”

Harlow wished her adrenaline would subside enough to let her laugh in his face. The idiot was insane if he thought she didn’t know that. Though, it was her mission to gather intelligence, so it made more sense to act surprised. Questioning him could lead to more information.

“What the hell are you talking about?” she asked.

“She wants to break him. Soon as she’s got him to heel, you’re useless…” He smiled and touched the blood on his cheek while sauntering past Animal who was still ready to pounce. “And when you’re useless to her, you’re mine… You’ll be mine for as long as I want, in any way I want…”

He smudged his blood against her lip. Harlow was quick to swipe it off with the back of her hand, leaping away as she did.

“You can fucking try,” she snarled. “I’d put a bullet in my head before I’d ever give you the pleasure of touching me.”

Whatever his intention, rape, torture, or murder, she wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction. Not if she had a choice, and as far as she was concerned, there was always a choice. As long as she had the ability to take her own life, there was a choice.

Grabbing her arm, Brash thrust her against the fridge. “You’re good at that, aren’t you?” he hissed. “Putting bullets in people.”

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Brash wasn’t Ophelia’s minion at all. At least, he hadn’t started out that way. Ophelia had recruited Brash and Animal to do her dirty work after killing her brother, Jarvis Hagan, their original boss.

Brash and Animal were loyal to Jarvis Hagan and believed they were continuing their work for him by protecting Ophelia. They were ignorant to the fact that Ophelia had pulled the trigger and killed the man they cared for.

Harlow had done time in jail for the crime until the evidence in her case was lost. After that, the charges against her had been dropped. But that wasn’t enough for Brash. It wasn’t enough for most people.