Page 9 of Harry

I shake my head, wishing I had the answers for her.

“Did he…” she pauses and swallows, her long neck stealing my attention as the muscles work to make words. “Did he kill people?” She finally lifts her eyes to mine and I can see something there. Something more than sadness.

“This is a different world, Harry. Killing people…it’s part of the territory.”

She hands the letter to me and I scan over it. It doesn’t reveal anything to me other than his wishes for Harry and her siblings to take over the business. I shake my head.

“What is it?” she asks.

I look at her, really look at her. She looks hopeful, almost, like the letter gives me answers that it hasn’t given to her. I realise I’m going to have to disappoint her, and the feeling doesn’t sit well with me at all.

“I just don’t know how he expects you to run this…business.” I wish I could steal her away and keep her to myself somewhere far from this world.

She bristles at my words. “I can run a fucking business, Aidan.” Her eyes spark with indignation. I can see that’s a battle she has been fighting for a long time. Having to prove herself to men. That she is clearly at the top of her game through sheer grit and determination.

Only she doesn’t get it. Not at all. Or at least not yet.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she says, closing the distance between us, an element of aggression in her body language as she leans toward me. “I’m not some pathetic little woman.” Her words surprise me.

“Is that what you think of other women?” I ask coolly.

She blinks, those mercury-grey eyes registering shock for a split second before she gathers herself.

“Some of them,” she answers. I like her honesty, so I figure I’ll be honest back.

“The reason you can’t run your father's business isn’t because you’re incapable of running a business. It’s because you’re incapable of killing a person.”

She blanches at my words.

“Why would I have to kill a person?” she asks quietly.

“Because to be a boss, you have to be Made. Here, things are different and still steeped in tradition. Your dad bucked a lot of it, but some things will always be the way it has to be done, and being Made is one of them.” I sigh heavily, taking in her curvy frame. “You have to be able to protect yourself. You would need training from the ground up, and that takes years.”

“What are the alternatives?” she asks.

“Your uncle.” I say to judge her reaction. It’s the worst idea in the world, but right now, it’s the only option I can see until we get some of the guys on our side. Her face scrunches a little as she thinks over what I’ve said.

“My dad didn’t want that,” she says. “He wanted me and my sisters to take over.”

Harry

It makes sense I suppose. This all seems like a simple hierarchical situation. The baton would have naturally passed to me had I been born male and learned the ropes as I grew up. So why would my father want me to take over when I’m neither of those things?

“Something doesn’t add up,” I say, taking the letter from Aidan. His big hands felt so good against my back, and I can tell he is handling the letter with care. It creates a warmth in me that I haven’t felt before.

I need to know everything about my dad, about Aidan, but where do I start?

“When did you last eat something?” he asks me with concern.

“I was going to order room service.” I walk over to the menu on the desk, needing to create space between us as much as anything else. My brain doesn’t work as it should when he is close to me and I find myself seeking the warmth from his body. “I’m too tired to do anything else.”

“I’ll get some clothes brought to your room for you, and I’ll come to get you at seven.” He looks at his watch. “Eat, try to rest, I’ll see you in the morning.”

He walks by me to reach the door. For a split second, I want to ask him to stay, but I know it would be improper. Even if it has been years since a man held me. Comforted me.

I think back to my last boyfriend. The guy I thought I’d marry, who couldn’t handle me climbing the corporate ladder quicker than he was. In the end, the accusations of sleeping my way to the top were the last straw. I kicked him out of my apartment and never looked back. That was four years ago.

Somehow in the time since, I’ve convinced myself that I didn’t need a man. I’m strong and independent, but I’d forgotten how it felt to be held and comforted. Then I made it so I didn’t need comforting, that I was fine alone.

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