Build God, Then We'll Talk | Harm

Saturday, May 28, 1921
10:00 PM
Boodle's Private Club, London
♫

"You'll forgive me for not wanting us sitting at the bar," James said with a grin as he offered his elbow to Harper, leading her from the main dining area to a private corner in the back lounge. "The music's better back here anyway." He held her drink for her, not wanting her to spill on her burgundy dress. Off the shoulder, exposing her collarbone to him, gracious woman that she was. Long sleeves and a hemline to the floor, always the picture of class. Why spoil it all with an errant glass of wine?

Boodle's was a members-only gentleman's club that had been around for ages. Women were admitted, on the arm of a member of course, and there were few places more discreet for a conversation long-overdue. The marble flooring and mahogany surfaces were standard in places like these, but it was the soft lighting from the crystal chandeliers and the strong drinks that kept clientele like James returning. It was a club for the elite, the aristocratic, the movers in London.

It was just the place to bring a woman like Harper.

As she settled herself into the velvet built-in sofa, James took his place beside her, handing off her glass as he slung his arm over the back of it. It was darker back here, away from eyes he didn't want prying, but still visible enough for those that mattered in here to notice.

His eyes drifted over her as he brought the glass of brandy to his lips, appreciating her in this new light. For the past several months he and Harper had been working together in hushed corridors, over secret lunches and brief passings in the Wizengamot. Things were coming together, the events at Hogwarts having launched their little coup forward with a momentum he could have never dreamed of.

She had been invaluable so far, but there was still plenty to be done.

"We'll have a dance later. Call it a thank you letter for meeting me on short notice." He grinned, a little sigh exiting his lips. "You were able to manage the latest letters, I assume?" he asked, his voice growing quieter but remaining leveled and casual. "The elf will be by Monday morning with some financials for you. We've got one of the goblins paid off. The galleons will be planted before the end of this week."

Galleons that would seemingly lead from Halloway's accounts to Merrow's.

"You know what to do." She always did.

Harper usually didn't go out all too often. Her work at the ministry had been much too demanding before her switch in positions and it still was after. She didn't have friends, didn't want them. No interest in any man that extended past brief encounters. Showing face had consisted for the most part of events thrown by her family members that required her attendance such as galas to do with her mother's magazine, the occasional wedding, her sister's publication celebrations.

Always contained to their upper middle-class tier.

Things were different now though.

With her acceptance of James' offer it had become more important to mingle with the people that shaped their world, become a part of it as well. Ascend up higher than even her father and brother could, claim her spot within the society that actually mattered. The place where real politics were made.

Smiling knowingly, Harper wrapped her arm underneath James', hand gently resting atop his forearm as he guided her through the space. She knew well enough that they weren't here for the music, not even the drinks.

Sitting on the soft cushions, Harper accepted back the glass of red wine James had held for her, bringing it to her lips for a sip. This wasn't work, not on the outside anyway, so Harper had decided against her usual choice of drink. Besides, she was in a good mood. Thing were going well.

The trail of his eyes didn't go unnoticed. She had gotten used to that over these past months, allowed herself to revel in those brief moments of appreciation -- inwardly. As much as she deemed safe but showing none of it on the outside besides the subtle smile playing on the corners of her lips. James Laurence was a charmer in every sense of the word and he knew to play it well.

A man used to disarming opponents with something as simple as one of those flashing smiles.

Harper waited for his gaze to meet hers again.

"We'll have a dance later. Call it a thank you letter for meeting me on short notice."

"How very gracious of you", she countered dryly but in good humour, quirking a brow and smiling still.

When his voice dropped a fraction with his next words, Harper answered his question with just a look before listening to how things had progressed. Her smile grew a little wider.

"Of course I know what to do." The information she had given to James and the evidence planted within had been essential to what they were doing. If she fucked up, the whole thing would go to shit. She knew what she did.

"It's almost too easy," she added, bemused twinkle in her eyes, keeping her voice low as well. "He's so distracted with the incident at Hogwarts he forgets to watch his back."

"I am nothing if not gracious," the man said smoothly, lazily moving his gaze from hers out to the other occupants of the room. He studied them briefly, taking note of those that took notice of him, before stashing it away to the back of his mind. He turned his attention back to the woman next to him, catching that look in her eye that quirked up the edges of his lips.

"Of course I know what to do."

“I’d expect nothing less,” James murmured, letting the approval settle between them. There was something intoxicating about competence - the kind born of sharp instincts and sharper ambition. Harper had it in spades. He could almost taste it on the air. "He doesn't forget to watch it," James said, his voice remaining low and measured, "He doesn't think he needs to in the first place." Arrogance was a stupid man's Achille's heel. "Pride goeth before the fall," he murmured, his eyes drifting across Harper's features, appreciating the subtle spark in dark brown irises that mirrored his own.

He sipped his brandy, watching the amber liquid swirl gently in his glass. "You've moved cleaner than half the men I've had the displeasure of working with." It was admiration that laced his tongue, not in the least motivated by the few sips of alcohol that had passed his lips. "Begs the question what you were wasting your time on before this." His grin widened as his thumb brushed the soft velvet of the sofa back. The room hummed around them, hushed whispers turned to garish laughs. Wealth, power, hesitant deals made behind bottles of vodka.

The irony of it all wasn't lost on James - the image of camaraderie and colleagues, all masking the viper's nest they had walked willingly into.

James let it all fade for a moment, the world narrowing to the woman beside him and their plan that was unfolding one quiet step at a time.

"This is only the beginning," he said, nodding at her, his face hardening slightly, wanting to make sure she was ready for what came next. He had faith in her, moreso than the others he was working with, if nothing more than knowing her ambition wouldn't let her falter now. He could appreciate a woman with big dreams and even more a woman that went to battle for them. The fact that she fought on his front lines made the admiration even greater.

"Once the transfer hits the ledgers, Merrow will never claw his way out. Halloway will be finished by summer. And you Harper," his voice lowered even further in an effort to draw her slightly closer. His smile sharpened, soft at the edges but hiding something eager underneath, "will have your seat at the table long before they even realize they've set a place for you."

He leaned back again, allowing his thumb to lightly graze the skin of her shoulder, before returning to the sofa. He exhaled slightly, his eyes shining with mirth. "There's just one caveat," he said, amusement playing across his features, knowing she was going to hate it.

Harper Knightley wasn't a woman to be told what to do.

"You'll need to get married. Quickly."

It was satisfying, the way his approval and praise tingled along her skin, seeped into her blood then smugly fed into what she had known all along.

She had yearned for it her whole life, for someone to recognize her capability and proficiency. Appreciate it and marvel at it, feed the insatiable need for someone to see. For someone to admire. Almost intoxicating how he poured it before her now.

Easy to get lost in but Harper knew how to enjoy something at a distance, discreetly.

"He doesn't forget to watch it. He doesn't think he needs to in the first place. Pride goeth before the fall."

Harper smiled slyly, quirking a brow in amusement. "Touché," she murmured back with a tilt of her head before taking a sip of her wine.

Merrow's ego would ultimately be his downfall. His inability to spot the conspirators hiding in plain sight, silently weaving their spider's net around his blinding complacency, waiting only for the right moment to let the web snap tight. It was immensely pleasing to pull invisible strings and watch the man remain completely oblivious to the scheming happening right under his nose, being one of the people who'd end his incompetent leadership. If you could call it such.

"You've moved cleaner than half the men I've had the displeasure of working with. Begs the question what you were wasting your time on before this."

Harper hummed lowly, amusement curling her lips and sparking behind her eyes as she regarded him for a second. "How about honing that ability?" she finally offered lightly, voice soft. "Outmanoeuvring the men above and around so subtly they never see it coming. It got me here, didn't it?" Next to James Laurance and the coup that would change everything.

His next words confirmed as much and when his voice dropped another time, Harper couldn't help but lean in sightly, smile sharpening alongside his, pushing an excitement into her blood that she had never felt this intensely before. Like every moment of her life was only leading up to this one thing.

His thumb grazed her skin and it sent a spark down her spine, into her guts, where it melted and mixed into the anticipation that had sat there for months now.

Her eyes briefly glinted into his.

Until they sat back against the sofa and his face took on a different kind of amusement, a little too sharp around the edges, foreboding a twist to their easy chat.

"There's just one caveat. You'll need to get married. Quickly."

Her gaze hardened slightly, a subtle rigidness finding its way back to her body as she tapped a nail against the glass in her hand, eyes swerving out over the room. "I know," she said coolly, the elation of a moment ago dissipating into business once more. "I have thought of it, too."

Logically, there was no other way. There was only that far a woman could make it on her own without certain expectations being voiced and demanded met. Especially with the agenda they would run with. It wasn't what she had ever wanted for herself but it had always loomed at the back of her mind. One day, there might not be any way around it anymore.

She hated it.

Harper took a breath, set her jaw and looked back around at James with stony determination. "Who?", she asked calmly. "I'm certain you already have a list of suitable candidates."

"How about honing that ability?"

She had his attention, the softness of her voice touching his senses with a delicateness that spurned heat in his chest. His expression remained plaintive and stoic, honey-brown irises trained on her with interest. There was something about a woman like Harper that was so far-removed from the women he typically interacted with. It was unusual - in his experience - for women to be as hungry as she was, who could see the forest for the trees and pursued her own power with the same unflinching zeal he’d come to expect only from men.

Somehow, in her hands, she wielded it with elegance, which made her all that more dangerous. She was inconspicuous, delicate, soft.

A wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Outmanoeuvring the men above and around so subtly they never see it coming. It got me here, didn't it?"

He gave a slight nod, bringing his glass to his lips once more, emptying the last of its contents. The liquor burned the back of his throat, and he smirked slightly as he set the glass on the small table nearby. "I'll remember to watch my back around you." Smooth, calm, but letting her know he wouldn't be one to take her plays for granted. As much as he knew Harper was loyal to him now, power and ambition had a funny way of disrupting harmonious partnerships when the time came for the chess match to end. He wasn't an idiot.

Harper was using him as much as he was using her. They both knew it. They'd perform this little song and dance as long as it benefitted them both, and not a second longer.

His smirk widened as her gaze hardened, her sharp smile falling slightly at his requirement. It wasn't a proposition or a suggestion. It was what was needed. If he and Harper were going to step forward together on the wizarding world stage, touting traditional values, then Harper needed to portray the illusion of being a loving wife first, and a leader second.

"I know. I have thought of it, too."

Her voice was colder, but resigned. Good, then she understood what was at stake here. Thrusting her into the public eye as a single, ambitious career-woman in a post-war Britain wasn't possible. James was no misogynist, but he was a realist, and he knew Harper was too. Her easy agreement, as much as he knew she hated it, spoke volumes on her dedication to their cause.

Could he admire her grit anymore than he already did?

Possibly.

Their eyes met again, and he saw it. Anger? Frustration? Quiet rage? He wasn't sure, but it was there. There was a part of him that was sorry to have to have her do it. It was never something he'd ask of a man, and something he'd even avoided with his own sister over the years. But the world was what it was. No use fretting over it.

"Who? I'm certain you already have a list of suitable candidates."

"Of course," he said. He wouldn't come without one. "One in particular that I think would be agreeable, if for nothing else than he needs a cover." He watched her expression carefully, to ensure she understood what he meant.

"He's an advertising executive based out of London. Wealthy, old money family, pureblood. His ability to convince the masses of our cause will be indispensable. He has the gift of propoganda, but he's on thin ice, at risk of losing everything." The man was a genius and could wield a quill like no one else. They needed him.

It was just too bad he enjoyed dabbling in...certain practices and hadn't wielded the best discretion.

"It's not ideal for you, I know, but it's an arrangement, and we all do what we need to do." James had followed his father's orders and married to secure an alliance with the Cornish family - high-stakes players in black market trade deals. Amelia was perfectly lovely, a wonderful woman who loved him and performed the role of a duchess beautifully.

It didn't change that it was marriage of convenience for both their families.

"I've spoken to him already, and he's willing to meet you next week."

"Of course. One in particular that I think would be agreeable, if for nothing else than he needs a cover."

Harper held his gaze, searching his eyes for a second when the pause grew heavy. But she got the message and nodded once.

Looking away again she took another sip of her wine, suddenly wanting more of the savoury taste that quietly promised to ease away the tension that steadily grew into her muscles.

She supposed it would do. At least she knew the man wouldn't want anything with her, that she didn't have to draw a line in whatever way needed to be understood and accepted. There would be no line necessary, it appeared.

Not that this made her any happier about the arrangement or the fact this fate had finally caught up to her. Things were about to change. Just thinking of telling her family froze the blood in her veins. She knew damn well that none of them would see through the façade she'd have to put on, convincingly. Which she would. Well enough to fool her own family into believing their errant daughter had found a man that managed to settle her down at last.

The thought of her mother and the way she'd throw herself into wedding plans of the most minute detail...

Harper dismissed the towering consequences that followed a decision as such. She'd deal with it when the time came.

If just for the fact that this associate of James' seemed to fit their needs and agenda perfectly. A marriage between a pureblood and a halfblood, money to fund their cause, status through name, propaganda. It all played right into their hands.

"It's not ideal for you, I know, but it's an arrangement, and we all do what we need to do."

She let her eyes settle on James' face. She could appreciate the message within those words, the fact that he seemed to understand what this meant for her. Of course there was no way around it, of course she wasn't the only person in the world having to do things she didn't want to. Really, she could count herself lucky for not having been married off at the ripe age of seventeen like many of her classmates had.

It didn't change the fact it annoyed her though, the fact that she was already creating exit plans in her head.

"We sure do," Harper replied soberly, capable of recognizing he too was just a cog in the machine that forged the system they moved within. He didn't need to remind her.

"I've spoken to him already, and he's willing to meet you next week."

Harper sighed quietly, but she raised her glass in toast, lifting a brow in amusement. "I can't fucking wait," she murmured sarcastically, leaning in a little closer to smirk at James before tipping the rest of her drink down her throat.

She did what she needed to do, had done so all of her career. This was just another bend in the road she'd take with ease.

"I think it's time for that dance you promised me?", she asked smoothly, setting down her class next to his before looking around at him again, a clandestine smile curling her lips.

There was genuine empathy behind the man's eyes. James wasn't a cruel man; not in comparison to many of those he'd come in contact with or worked alongside throughout his years. He could be cutthroat and cold when needed, but it wasn't his standard method of operation. In this instance however, it was what it was. The end goal and the overall picture was bigger than the needs of one individual - something every member of his own family had been raised - and would continue to be raised - to understand.

Harper Knightley was no exception to the currents she’d stepped into.

"I can't fucking wait."

"I imagine neither can he," James quipped, a little spark of a tease on his tongue as her eyes caught his again, and he waited as she downed the last of her drink. At the very least, with enough discretion, Harper would still be able to live her life on her own terms, without a jealous husband watching over her shoulder. He would be busy with his own dalliances after all.

James made a mental note that he'd need to reel the man in, and impress upon him the importance of appearances from here on out. If he couldn’t play the part cleanly, he was useless to their purposes.

"I think it's time for that dance you promised me?"

He met her smile with one of his own, something akin to mischief sparking behind his eyes. He stood, holding out his hand to her without a word, and when she took it, he led her easily to the middle of the room where several other couples were already intertwined.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, James tugged her close until she was flush against him, his fingertips splayed softly along the silkiness of her dress. His eyes captured hers as he clasped her hand in his, leading her to the lazy pulse of the jazz curling through the lounge. The man had no illusions that they were 'a couple', just as he was certain she understood the game as well.

Still, with her warmth pressed against him, and her soft powdery and floral scent invading his senses, he indulged for the moment, letting his mind take him to places he had no business venturing. "Try not to hold on too tightly," he said, a devilish smirk curling at the corner of his lips as they swayed, "I'd hate for you to get used to me."

Taking the hand he held out to her, Harper stood as well, following as he led her onto the dancefloor. They snaked in between already dancing couples until he stopped, turning her into him. Smooth and steady.

Lightly pressed against him, Harper rested one hand on his shoulder and the other in his upheld hand. Warmth seeped through the fabric of her dress and into her skin where he held her close, the touch at her back pleasantly comfortable. She met his gaze, smiling softly as they began to sway to the lazy flow of music.

From this close she could see her own reflection in his eyes, shining down on her with that by now familiar glint, the curve of his mouth curled into a smirk.

"Try not to hold on too tightly. I'd hate for you to get used to me."

Her smile deepened, head tilting faintly. "How unseemly that would be," Harper countered lightly, voice low. "I'm soon to be a wife. Whatever would my dear husband say?" It was a joke, aiming at what James hadn't named but that she'd understood well enough.

Her husband wouldn't care, just as much as she didn't care for his antics. As long as it lingered in the shadows, held from society so that their image would remain pristine, Harper felt indifferent to the nameless man's bedroom activities. As long as it didn't affect her, he was free to do as he liked.

Discretion however, would have to be a priority. She trusted that James had either made that clear enough or still planned to do.

Naturally, that was no excuse to get too close to the man gently leading her to the unhurried tune wreathing around them, moving them across the room with tandem ease. Not only was he a married man. More importantly was he the Head of Family of one of the most powerful, influential pureblood families, a duke at that, and soon to be her boss. Her minister.

Yet, it was easy to fantasize. For a moment. Enwrapped in his scent of earth and warmth, laced with something rich, almost forbidden and dangerous. To play a little.

"Don't forget to heed your own advice, Mr. Laurence," Harper remarked smilingly, tone balmy, eyes glinting. She leaned in a little to whisper next to his ear, "Wouldn't want you to get used to me."

"How unseemly that would be. I'm soon to be a wife. Whatever would my dear husband say?"

His lips widened as his eyes darkened. There was a strange stirring in his gut at the sound of 'her husband', and his hand tightened slightly around hers. It would be strange to call it possessiveness. Harper wasn't his and he wasn't hers. But in the moment, she may as well have been.

Knowing that the man he was setting her up with wouldn't find any sort of interest or attraction in her wasn't an accident. He needed her attention fully engaged in their ambitions. Falling in love with a 'husband' wasn't productive to what they had in store. They were partners now, both of their hands stained with treason and the blood that would inevitably follow.

There was no room for softness in what they were building. Love made people careless. Desire could be managed, redirected, weaponized. Attachment was a liability, and Harper understood that as well as he did. Still, there was nothing wrong with a little indulgency in the moments when things stilled.

"Your husband will serve his purpose." And nothing more. If the man ever tried to tell Harper what to do or how to behave, James was certain the man would be met with the sort of ice that pierced through the skin.

"Don't forget to heed your own advice, Mr. Laurence. Wouldn't want you to get used to me."

His fingers settled more firmly at her back, not dominating, but permissive. A moment allowed. A small puff of air escaped his lips in amusement. "I don't worry about getting used to people," he said quietly, his voice laced with something a little more dangerous than it usually did with her. His eyes trailed along her face, down the ivory skin of neck, before slowly returning to her own. James didn't make it a habit of keeping people outside of his family overly close.

“I worry about who’s standing beside me when the cards are finally on the table,” he continued, his tone smooth even as their steps shifted with the rising tempo of the music. “When there’s nowhere left to hide.”

Harper had always known where to stand.

"You're prepared to go under with me if it comes to it?" His hand slipped from hers, fingers gliding along her arm as he guided it up around his shoulders. His free arm followed, settling at her waist and drawing her closer.

His smile returned, warm and unreadable. “Or will you be sensible,” he murmured, “and leave me to drown?”

"Your husband will serve his purpose."

Indeed he would.

They all would, in the end. Merely players in this game of chess that never truly ended and that everyone tried to get the upper hand in. Only few understood its intricacies, how to cover their moves in plain sight, how to play the long game. To be patient and ruthless and unrelenting. How to outmanoeuvre the ones inept and too gullible. How to hide the bodies dropping in their wake, how to use others' advantages for their own gain.

Harper knew though.

She had been doing it her whole life. At school, during her climb up the ministry, hadn't shied away from doing it within her own family that never wanted her in the first place. Slyly, pulling strings from the shadows until the pieces fell the way she needed them to, silently gorging herself on her victories so no one ever suspected a thing.

Nobody and nothing was anything more than a tool, a resource to be used in whichever way was beneficial to her cause: herself.

Harper didn't get attached. Never.

Harper only indulged.

The glint in her eyes remained as James' hand settled more firmly at her back, his voice lowering to something almost predatory, his gaze trailing a palpable path down her neck. Delicate shifts that would appear imperceptible to anyone watching, charged though in their subtlety, sending little ripples of satisfied pleasure underneath her skin.

It wasn't often that Harper felt attraction. Disregarding the fact that she didn't feel anything beyond the physical anyway, men usually moved below her, too bland and menial to spark any kind of interest in the first place. Too dim-witted and dreary to engage her mind and therefore a waste of her time.

Seldom -- a man that managed to hold her interest.

But she supposed it was the reason for them to find themselves here at all, in the midst of this plan of theirs, this reciprocal partnership bound to propel them both forward, upward. Equally versed in moving the pieces across the board. Equally callous and shrewd.

And maybe it was the forbidden that made this dance all the more enticing, the game of cat and mouse.

Harper let his words graze along her senses, amusement deepening her gaze as he spoke lowly. She let him guide her, arm coming to rest on his shoulder, accepting the hand that pulled her further in by the waist.

She let a moment pass once his words settled. "Depends," she answered pensively, angling her head in contemplation and allowing her smile to turn wicked, a spark igniting her gaze. "Whatever is most beneficial, isn't it?" She let the nail of one finger graze down the side of his neck, deliberately slow, eyes never leaving his face. It was no secret that either of them was using the other, a symbiosis until no longer fruitful.

Their agendas and goals aligned -- only time would tell for how long and only time would tell what happened after.

"I could pose the same question to you," Harper continued lightly, leaning a little more into him. Her voice shifted to a whispered purr. "Will you let me fall, Mr. Laurence, when I have served my purpose? Would you sacrifice me to save yourself? Your family?" Slowly, she lifted a brow. Because the answer was evident.

And that too, was something that made this alliance even more alluring. The almost certain knowledge that, ultimately, one of them would stab the other in the back.

The thrill of never knowing who or when or how.

"Depends. Whatever is most beneficial, isn't it?"

It seemed a simple answer didn't it? Only logic would prevail and the two wolves that strode in lockstep would eventually circle each other until one attacked. It seemed the most likely outcome. Partnerships like this, founded on intrigue, betrayal and subterfuge could rarely end any other way.

But James knew nothing was ever quite so cut and dry. He was a cutthroat man when he needed to be, and would certainly do what was most beneficial for himself and his family. He had a daughter to think of. An entire extended family and legacy that relied on him. He couldn't go down willingly - certainly not in an effort to save Harper Knightley.

Her nail trailed down his neck as he held her gaze, his own expression softening slightly in curiosity. She was certainly a remarkable woman. Intelligent. Composed. Entirely aware of the game being played and unafraid to meet his eyes across the board. There was no desperation in her, no false modesty. Only calculation sharpened by something he couldn't quite pinpoint.

A halfblood girl from unremarkable origins. It made him wonder - what could have happened to her to make her as ruthless and cunning as any powerful man he knew? Harper was not someone to be dismissed or underestimated, and he found, to his mild surprise, that the admiration came easily. Too easily.

Wolves could tear each other apart. But they could also hunt together with terrifying efficiency and for the moment, James was content to see just how far this partnership might carry them before instinct demanded blood.

She wasn't the first woman he'd been attracted to outside of his marriage, but most of his indiscretions were casual, fun and fleeting. He'd never indulged in the long-term or even short-term affair, preferring Amelia not have to worry that his affections ever swayed from her. She knew he was as monogamous as he could be in an arrangement such as theirs, and the love he had for her was that of family or a good friend. Certainly not romantic, though there was no reason for her to know it.

She turned a blind eye, he knew, as long as she felt his heart was hers. And why make her feel otherwise?

He felt goosebumps rise along his skin at Harper's touch, honey-brown eyes resting on her lips as his own fingers traced the contours of her spine through her silk dress.

"I could pose the same question to you. Will you let me fall, Mr. Laurence, when I have served my purpose? Would you sacrifice me to save yourself? Your family?"

His eyebrow mirrored hers, his light smile never falling. "You know the answer to that, darling." He brought a thumb to brush gently across her bottom lip.

"Don't make me break my own heart so soon."

She knew the answer to that very well, and it was the risk she had to take.

The man that would be her uplift to a place she couldn't get to solely on her own -- at least not this quickly -- carried an equal potential to simply kick her to the curb, easily and with no more than a few strings pulled.

And he would. If he thought he had to. James was a cutthroat man who was using her just as much as she was using him, both scheming their own separate schemes to further their own separate agendas.

The difference was the sort of power he held inherently -- a pureblood Duke compared to an unmarried halfblood woman.

It wasn't as though her family had no influence at all. The Knightleys were well respected in their own circles. A highly regarded, wealthy family that produced one successful businessperson after another. Meaningless to the elite, no doubt, but relevant enough to their tier of society.

Regardless, if it ever came to it, it was apparent who'd have the higher ground.

Harper would simply have to be clever about it. Preventative.

James' fingers trailed along her spine, leaving soft tingles in their wake, his gaze lingering on her mouth provoking it to stretch a little wider. She smiled against his thumb as it brushed along her lower lip, and a burning certainty nestled itself deep inside her body with the words he spoke.

"Don't worry," Harper hummed contentedly, sweeping her gaze over his face before lowering her voice to a beguiling whisper, eyes darting back up to his. "I plan to drag this out as long as I can."