"Hypothetically." She stubs out the cigarette and folds her hands on the table. "If it were me? If I were the one in that house, wearing his ring, carrying another man's baby?"
She holds my gaze.
"I'd make it look like an accident. Something clean. Something that couldn't be traced. I'd take whatever he has—whatever he's holding over you—and I'd burn it. Every copy. Every file. Every backup. And then I'd run."
I stare at her. My pulse hammering.
“But I’ve killed plenty of men, Harper. I doubt you have?”
She stands as I shake my head. “No. I’ve never killed anyone.”
She walks over to the window, staring out into the dark.
"Or..." She turns back to me. Her voice is different now, almost tender. "I'd call the one man in the world who loves me enough to burn down everything to save me."
The air leaves my lungs.
"And I'd tell him that I'm pregnant with his baby." She pauses. "And he will come running, Harper. You know he will. Men like that—men who wait six years, who tattoo you on their skin, who probably can't fuck another woman because all they see is your face—those men don't think. They don't strategize. They don't weigh the risks." She walks back to the table and places her hand over mine. "They just come. And they tear apart anything between them and the woman they love."
Her dark eyes hold mine. And for a second, I forget who she is. She’s the only person who sees me amongst this mess.
I glance away, thinking about the woman who answered his phone. Is the man she’s describing still Ace? I don’t know.
"Call Ace, Harper. Tell him about the baby. Let him come for you. Let him burn the world down to fix this for you."
The tears spill before I can stop them. Because she's right. He would come. Without hesitation. Without question. He'd drive through the night and kick down Hudson's door and carry me out of that house and never once think about what it costs him.
And that's exactly what terrifies me.
"What if something happens to him? I know it’s not safe for him to be in LA," I whisper.
She squeezes my hand. "What if something happens to you if he doesn't?"
I wipe my eyes. She hands me a napkin, and I blow my nose and try to pull myself together.
“What about if I just run?” I say.
She takes a breath. “You run, Hudson still has whatever he’s holding over your head. It depends on what that is. My guess is that if you run, he will only keep blackmailing you. That’s what they do. And it must be good for you to have gone through with the wedding.”
I nod, glancing away out of sheer embarrassment.
“Harper. Whatever it is, this is exactly what he wants. You to feel shame. You to be so scared of what he has. And it won’t stop. Even when he says he’s done, you’ll always be looking over your shoulder, what if? What if one day he wakes up in a bad mood and decides to do something with it? Do you understand what I’m saying? The intel dies with him. That is how you stop someone.”
I rub my hand on my stomach. Her eyes follow my hand.
“If Ace comes, you have my word, my family will leave him alone. I’ll take the kill order off his head. He can come to LA to help you, then you both leave. That is something I can give you.”
I jump out of my chair and wrap my arms around her. I trust her. I have to, because she is the only lifeline I have right now.
“Thank you, G,” I whisper.
She hugs me tighter. “Men only hold power over you if you give it to them. Whatever he has, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is you and your baby being safe,” she tells me.
We pull away, and she points to my chair. I sit.
"Eat something," she says, sliding a plate toward me. "You're feeding two now. And my chef will be offended if you don't try the pasta."
I laugh, and we eat. She talks about her childhood in Rome. About her mother's garden. About the first time her father took her to a meeting, and she realized the family business wasn't importing olive oil. I listen. I laugh. I feel, for the first time in weeks, like a person instead of a prisoner.
