I focus on the pain in my palms, using the sting to ground me. He’s insinuating that one bad night at the club means I can’t do my job.
“Harper? Do you understand?”
I grimace. “Yes.”
“Good. Get your things. I’ll contact you sometime in the next two weeks, and we can discuss this matter further. In the meantime, head home and relax. Take the time to be with your father.”
“Yes, sir,” I nearly spit.
“I’ll see you in a couple weeks. Now get going.”
I storm out of his office towards my desk, ignoring the stares of coworkers. I grab my purse, leaving the work laptop where it is, then head to the elevator. I’m halfway to my car before I realize I’m in no condition to drive. I need to cool down before I go anywhere.
I spy the restaurant and bar across the street. I’ve been there a few times after work and am surprised to see it open so early in the day. But I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I’ll get a drink or two, just enough to help me settle my emotions. Then I’ll go home.
The bar is almost empty as I walk in, and I see there is only an old man sitting in the corner. I find a table on the other side of the room and wait until a waitress walks up.
“Breakfast menu, hun?” she asks.
“Jack and Coke,” I reply.
“You sure?”
I look up and make eye contact. “Jack and Coke.”
She shrugs. “You got it. I’ll be right back.”
A moment later, the drink is set down in front of me. I pick it up and throw it back, relishing the sting on the back of my throat.
“Another.”
22
Axel
I’m lying in bed, trying to decide if I want to piss off Declan and head into the office anyway when my phone chimes. I pick it up to see a text message from Sam, our IT person.
Is Harper okay? Are you with her?
I blink and hit the reply button. I haven’t been to the office today. What’s going on?
I stare at my phone, waiting for another message when it rings instead.
“Sam?” I answer.
“Hey, yeah. Sorry to call when you’re out, but I thought it might be faster than texting.”
“What’s going on with Harper?”
“I went up to ask if she wanted to go to lunch with me, but she wasn’t at her desk. I asked around and several people said that Declan called her into his office. They saw her leave a little while later, looking pretty upset. But when I went out to the parking lot, her car was still there. I thought you must have taken her to the hospital again.”
“No. I’m taking a personal day.”
“So, you don’t know where she is?”
“No.”
“I hope she’s okay, and that her dad’s okay, too. Let me know if you hear anything?”
“I will.”
Sam hangs up, but I know something’s wrong.
Fucking Declan. He couldn’t leave it well enough alone. I did as he asked and stayed away, but he had to go and call in Harper. I try Harper’s phone, but it goes straight to voicemail.
“Damnit!” I shout, getting out of bed.
I need to find her and make sure she’s okay. But first, I need to know what Declan said.
I pull on jeans and a shirt then head to my car. Twenty minutes later, I storm into Declan’s office, interrupting a meeting between him and Maddox.
“What did you do?” I snarl.
“Axel,” Maddox starts.
“This has nothing to do with you,” I snap. I love my brother, but I don’t want him to get involved.
Maddox sighs. “I’ll come back later.”
The door closes while Declan and I stare at each other.
“I told Harper to take a leave of absence,” Declan finally says, crossing his arms.
“You what?”
“I gave her some forced time off,” he growls, his tone lowering in a way I know only happens when he’s pissed.
“You had no right!”
Declan stands, his palms slamming on his desk. “I have every right! I’m her boss, and whether either of you wants to admit it or not, this was going to start affecting her work. You’ve got her tied up in knots, and not the kind you like. At the same time, she’s stressed, worrying about her father’s health. Something had to give, and since nobody else seemed capable of seeing how close she is to breaking, I made the decision to take one iron out of the proverbial fire.”
“You should have talked to me first!”
“Oh, hey, Axel,” Declan replies, his voice dripping with mock concern. “I’m worried about your current plaything. Can you maybe not destroy her while her father has fucking cancer? I need her to be able to work.”
“She’s not a plaything!”
“Doesn’t look like that from where I’m sitting. Oh, you might have treated her to a few nice things outside the club, convinced yourself that it was different. But at the end of the day, all that mattered was how she made you feel once you had her bound and on her knees. You used her like you do all your other submissives. The difference is that she wasn’t experienced enough to know that.”
“Fuck you.”
“You wouldn’t like it. I hit back.”
I’ve had enough. I need to find Harper. I nearly tear the door off its hinges as I storm from his office. The marketing employees are doing their best to ignore me, purposefully keeping their eyes on their work. I huff and march to the elevator.
Harper’s workstation is the only one that’s empty in the marketing and creative section. Sam would have been my next guess, but she called me. I don’t think any of my team would have taken Harper anywhere. Which means that she’s either in the area or found another way home.
Employees shuffle out of my way as if scared that I’m going to walk right over them in my attempt to leave the building. I need air, but more than that, I need to find Harper and reassure myself that she’s okay.
I’m halfway across the parking lot by the time her apartment phone switches over to voicemail. Either she’s still ignoring me, or she’s not there.
“Come on, Harper,” I mutter. “Where did you go?”
I stand on the sidewalk, looking in both directions. It’s mostly offices as far as the eye can see. My eyes land on the restaurant across the street.
“Fuck it. Maybe a waitress saw something.”
I cross the street and head inside. It’s about half-full from the stragglers of the lunch rush. I look around for a waitress, but I see Harper in the back corner, too many empty glasses in front of her. I stomp over, disgust curling through me when fresh tears spring to her eyes as she sees me.
“Go away,” she slurs.
I catch the eyes of a passing waitress. “I need her bill. Now.”
“Sir?”
“She’s had too many. I’m paying her tab, then taking her back to her apartment to sleep it off.”
“I…I don’t think…”
“Look,” I growl. “I’m one of her bosses. Either I pay the bill now and take her home, or I call the cops to come to get her to let her sober up. But she isn’t leaving here without someplace safe to go.”