I could understand him having his reservations about some shit, but he had known me long enough to know how I got down. Harbor was no different from any woman because at the end of it all, I wasthatnigga. I didn’t get played by bitches. Once a woman had the experience of fucking with me, she knew she had a real one, and there were very few that compared. Ivana was the only woman that I didn’t have to manipulate, because she gave it to me straight. It would require a little more finesse with Harbor, but that shit wasn’t impossible, and I was up for the obstacle.
* * *
When I walkedinto my house later that evening, it smelled like a cake or something was baking, leading me right along to the kitchen. Celine and Ivy stood at the island counter, and my daughter mixed something in a bowl. Bright eyes peered up at me when I walked through the doorway.
“Hey, Daddy. We are making brownies,” she announced.
Her smile reminded me of the woman that birthed her, and although I was more than happy to have my daughter, it only reminded me and made my heart a little more tender to the fact that Ivana was no longer with us.
“Dessert of course. Go get cleaned up, and we will set the table,” Celine instructed.
Like she asked, I went upstairs and changed into more casual attire since I planned on working out after dinner. My mother sent a list of schools, so I was going to go over them with Ivy and discuss options so that we could set up a few on site visits. I wanted her to have an opinion and be involved in the process.
After changing, I decided I would go and talk to Harbor and see what I could do about my current situation. At this point, a nigga was desperate, and I needed her. I unlocked the door to her room, and when I entered, found her laying in bed staring up at the ceiling. She didn’t notice my presence right away. I wondered what she was in such deep thought about, and her head shifted in my direction. Slowly, she eased herself into a sitting position and faced me.
“Can I help you with something?” she asked smartly.
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. With my back pressed against it, I kept my eyes glued to her.
“I have an offer for you.” I began, standing upright.
She rested each hand on either side of her while she waited for me to continue. Her hair was long, flowing past her shoulders, and it was different from any other time I had seen her. She looked soft and not as guarded as she usually was.
“The only offer that I am interested in is getting out of here.” She brought herself to her feet, arms tucked across her perfect, ample breasts. “So you gonna remedy that for me?”
“What if I offered you… an opportunity instead?” I suggested.
“There ain’t shit that you can offer me other than letting me go.” She disputed, her nostrils flaring sexily.
I peered around the room and took a couple of steps forward. The setup was plain, resembling a hotel suite. There weren’t any sharp objects, but there was a row of mirrors that she had put to use. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I continued to take a couple of steps until I was front and center. Harbor’s eyes never left me. She looked at me like she was peering into a fucking microscope, right through me. To her, a nigga was transparent. And oddly, my mask wasn’t on with her.
“What do you know about your father and what he does for a living?” I questioned, and her face immediately went into a tight grimace.
“Why are you questioning me about that? Why am I still here after a year? What is it that you really want from me?” She interrogated, turning the tables on me.
At first, I wanted to snatch her up and slam her against the wall to remind her who was running shit around here. I thought against it after taking a minute and soaking her in. I made her that way—defensive and wound tight. She always stuck her chest out and kept her nose turned up. We needed to find a common ground. I was in a position where I needed her more than I thought I ever could.
“My daughter is here. She’s twelve years old. When her mother was six, she was killed,” I revealed.
The hardened stare that she had penetrated me with softened with those words, and her dark, upward-slanted eyes landed on the ground. When she brought them back to me, there was something there that I hadn’t counted on, and it surprised me. Did she actually empathize with me? Was she still capable of that after everything I had done to her? If she was, she was one hell of a woman. And I didn’t deserve an ounce of compassion from anyone. I accepted six years ago that aside from my daughter I didn’t deserve anything else good in the world. I spent a good portion of my life taking the lives of others, and although a nigga walked around like his soul was in check, that was far from the case.
“Ivana Samuels,” I stated evenly. “I mentioned her already. Her file was sealed. She died on a flight taking over fifty passengers to San Tropez. The media called it a freak accident. They tried to seal it off as if it was some random shit, but they won’t allow anyone to access this file. I need you to bypass all that. Is that something that you think you can handle?” The aggression in my tone startled her, but she didn’t seem afraid.
“And what does my father have to do with any of that?”
“Harold Lawson was the one who helped seal her records. I want to know why.” I concluded. “I need to know who’s pulling his strings.”
Confusion spread across her face. It was clear that she had no idea what the fuck I was talking about. I could practically see the thoughts bouncing around her head.
“So… that’s why I’m here?” she whispered.
“You didn’t think it was your charm, did you?” I kidded very dryly.
She cut her eyes at me but kept a blank face. “Whatever he did or didn’t do, it has nothing to do with me.” Harbor threw her arms up. “My father worked for the government, and he never talked about his job with us.”
“And yet you ended up on a path similar to his.” I ran my hand down my beard and studied her from where I stood.
“You don’t know shit about me or what I do,” she clapped back, her defenses high.
