Chapter 9 His Hands On My Spine
Harper's POV,
We'd barely made it three steps into the ballroom when she appeared.
Crew's ex-girlfriend materialized out of the crowd like something from a nightmare, all long legs and platinum blonde hair swept into an elegant updo.
Her dress was white and expensive, cut low enough to be dangerous, and her smile was pure poison.
"Crew." She said his name like a caress and a threat at the same time. "It's been a while."
I felt Crew's entire body go rigid next to me, his hand tightening on my waist.
"Vanessa." His voice came out flat and cold. "What are you doing here?"
"Same thing as everyone else, darling; Charity." She turned those ice-blue eyes on me and I felt her gaze rake over me from head to toe, calculating and dismissive.
"And you must be the new girlfriend. Harper, is it? I've seen the pictures. You two are absolutely adorable."
The way she said adorable made it sound like an insult.
"Thanks," I said, keeping my voice steady. "We think so too."
Vanessa laughed, this light tinkling sound.
"How sweet. Crew always did have a type. Brunette, pretty in that girl-next-door way, desperately in love with him." Her smile sharpened.
"At least until he gets bored."
"Vanessa." Crew's voice dropped lower, dangerous. "Walk away. Now."
"Oh, don't be like that. I just wanted to say hello to your new little project." She stepped closer and I caught her perfume, something floral and expensive that probably cost more than my rent.
"Tell me, Harper, how long have you two been together? A month? Six weeks?"
"That's none of your business," I said.
"I'm just curious how long it'll take before he shows you who he really is." Vanessa tilted her head, studying me like I was something fascinating and pitiful at the same time.
"Has he introduced you to his medicine cabinet yet? Or is he still pretending he's got everything under control?"
My stomach dropped to the floor, but I tried to keep my face neutral.
Crew moved before I could respond, stepping between us, his body blocking Vanessa from my view.
"We're done here. You want to stay at this event, fine. But you stay the hell away from her. Understand?"
For a second, something flickered across Vanessa's perfect face. Surprise, maybe.
"Still playing the hero," she said softly.
"That's always been your problem, Crew. You think you can save everyone. But you can't even save yourself."
She turned and glided away into the crowd, leaving silence in her wake.
Crew's jaw was so tight I thought his teeth might crack. His hand was still on my waist and I could feel the tension vibrating through him.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, not looking at me.
"I didn't know she'd be here."
"It's okay."
"No, it's not." He finally turned to face me and his eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them. "She had no right to talk to you like that."
"Crew." I put my hand on his chest, felt his heart pounding. "I'm fine. Let's just forget about her."
He looked at me for a long moment, something complicated moving across his face. Then he nodded. "Yeah. Okay then, let's get a drink."
….
We made our way to the bar and Crew ordered us both champagne, his body still tense beside me.
I could feel eyes on us from all directions, people whispering behind hands, phones probably already uploading photos.
"Everyone's staring," I said quietly.
"Let them." Crew handed me a glass and clinked against it. "We're the entertainment tonight."
"Is that what we are?"
He looked at me over the rim of his glass, something intense and raw in his expression. "I don't know what we are anymore, Harper. Do you?"
Before I could answer, someone called Crew's name from across the room.
A teammate, waving him over to a group of suits who were probably donors or sponsors or whatever rich people came to these things.
"Give me five minutes," Crew said. "Don't go anywhere."
"Where would I go?"
He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "With you? I never know."
I watched him walk away, his shoulders tight under that perfect tux, and wondered what Vanessa had meant about his medicine cabinet.. how much she knew. And whether the pills in his car were just the tip of something much darker and deeper.
"Harper Sinclair."
I turned and found myself face to face with an older woman in head-to-toe Chanel, her gray hair styled in an elegant bob. She looked vaguely familiar but I couldn't place her.
"I'm sorry, have we met?"
"Not officially. I'm Catherine Brennan. I run the foundation hosting tonight's event." She offered her hand and I shook it, trying not to look as lost as I felt.
"I wanted to introduce myself. Crew's told me so much about you."
"He has?"
"Oh yes. He talks about you constantly." Catherine's smile was warm and genuine, nothing like Vanessa's calculated cruelty.
"It's wonderful to see him happy again. After everything with Vanessa, we were all worried."
I wanted to ask what everything meant, but that felt like crossing a line.
"He seems happy," I said instead, which wasn't quite a lie.
"He is. I can tell." Catherine squeezed my arm gently. "Hold onto that one, dear. The good ones are rare."
She drifted away before I could respond, leaving me standing there with my champagne and my confusion and Vanessa's words echoing in my head.
Has he introduced you to his medicine cabinet yet?
I scanned the room looking for Crew and found him trapped in conversation with three men in expensive suits, his smile fixed and professional. He caught my eye across the crowd and something in his expression shifted, softened.
Then I saw them.
Joel and Brianna, walking through the entrance like they owned the place.
My entire body went cold.
Joel was in a navy suit that I'd helped him pick out two years ago, his hair styled the way I used to style it. And Brianna was in red, tight and flashy, her hand possessively wrapped around his arm.
They were seated at a table directly across the ballroom from where Crew and I had been assigned. Perfect line of sight… which was impossible to miss.
This definitely wasn't an accident.
I watched as Joel's eyes scanned the room, searching. When they landed on me, he went completely still.
Brianna said something to him but he didn't respond, didn't even look at her. Just stared at me like I was the only person in the entire ballroom.
I felt Crew appear beside me before I saw him, his hand sliding around my waist, pulling me against his side.
"I see them," he said quietly in my ear.
"He's staring."
"Good. Let him stare." Crew's thumb traced small circles on my hip through the thin silk of my dress. "Let him see exactly what he lost."
I looked up at him, at this man who'd defended me from photographers and his ex, who was struggling with demons but still showed up, who looked at me like I actually mattered.
And I made a choice.
"Dance with me," I said.
Crew blinked, surprised. "What?"
"You heard me." I grabbed his hand and started pulling him toward where couples were gathering on the dance floor. "If we're going to make Joel regret every decision he's ever made, let's do it properly."
A slow smile spread across Crew's face, something warm and dangerous that made my stomach flip. "You sure about this?"
"Completely." And I was. For the first time in weeks, I was absolutely certain about something.
We reached the dance floor just as the band started a slow song, something sultry and intimate that made the lights feel dimmer, the air feel thicker.
Crew pulled me close, one hand settling on the bare skin of my lower back, the other taking mine.
The touch of his palm against my spine sent electricity through my entire body.
We started moving and everything else disappeared.
"You're different tonight," Crew said, his voice low and rough.
"Different how?"
"Braver." His hand slid slightly higher on my back, his fingers tracing the line of my spine. "Like you finally decided to stop running."
He was right. I had been running. From Joel's betrayal, from my own feelings, from the terrifying possibility that this fake relationship had become the most real thing in my life.
"Maybe I'm tired of being scared," I said.
"Of what?"
I looked up at him and the intensity in his eyes made my breath catch. "Of wanting something I'm not supposed to have."
His grip tightened on my waist, pulling me closer until there was barely any space between us. "And what do you want, Harper?"
The question hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning.
My heart was hammering so hard I was sure he could feel it. We were still moving to the music, but it felt less like dancing and more like something else entirely. Something dangerous and inevitable.
"You," I whispered. "I want you."