9. Hartley

A person could only straighten up a space so many times, especially when that space was sparse to begin with. There were belongings I'd taken with me when I left the other rental, things I'd bought. I'd also been selling them off little by little to have more money in my pocket. If it wasn't a necessity to do my job, I could part with it.

With the money Jordan gave me, I could make a sizable dent in what was owed. Every penny I paid was a step closer to having my grandfather's debt taken care of, including paying off his house. Then I would focus on the house itself. I had dreams of using it as a vacation home one day. On a sound in coastal North Carolina, it had beautiful views. It was a shame how much the house had suffered when he couldn't afford the repairs. But I was determined to make it better once the debt was paid.

The life I wanted was in front of me. If only I could reach it. Today wasn't the day, although it would be eventually. I kept my goal in mind every time I worked. It kept driving me forward when I wanted to cry from not knowing how I could do it all.

I was a firm believer in everything happening for a reason. That didn't mean I had to love the shitty hand I'd been dealt.

My dad passed away from cancer when I was six. My mom died of an overdose when I was eight. When my dad died, she couldn't handle the grief, so she turned to a bottle. She started by drinking, then went on to drugs. It was why my brother's drinking was concerning to me. After our parents were gone, we moved in with our grandfather. He wasn't perfect, no one was, but he loved us with everything in him. My brother though, he wasn't the most reliable. Leaving for days at a time, showing up when he wanted to. Now he lived at the bottom of a bottle, reminiscent of the memories I had from childhood.

Shaking my head, I let out a breath. "I can't fix everything," I muttered.

Since the last time Jordan was here, I'd added two comfortable, yet stylish, ivory chairs with a small table between them I'd purchased on a steep discount. This way, if Jordan wanted to sit or if we wanted to have a discussion, I didn't need to drag two folding chairs from the closet like I was getting ready for a yard sale.

What was I thinking? Jordan wasn't going to stay here long. He'd try on the suit so I could make adjustments, then he'd be on his way. There was no reason for him to linger. The color choices and cut had already been approved.

I needed to get my shit together and stop thinking about a man who wasn't even close to attainable. Not only that, why would I want to crawl into bed with a criminal? That couldn't lead anywhere good. Except for the orgasm he was sure to give me.

A knock on the door drew me from my thoughts, a welcome relief. I had to focus on work.

On the other side of the door was Jordan in a sharp navy pinstripe suit. The stripes were white and subtle, not bold lines drawing too much attention. But the fit was off a tad.

"Are you scrutinizing me, Hartley?"

My eyes snapped to his. "What?"

"You see something in my suit, do you not?"

"It could fit you better."

"That it could. The designer who made this isn't around any longer. I wanted to see if you noticed how it formed to my body."

Oh… oh, he was doing this on purpose. "Well, it could certainly complement you better."

His lips twitched. For a second, I thought he might smile. Maybe that was all the smile he usually gave someone.

One of his twin bodyguards stepped forward, nodding at the door. "May we?"

"Of course." I stepped out of the way so they could enter. I noted two more outside on the sidewalk. Not twins like the others, but no less imposing.

Jordan stood on the top step as if he didn't have a care in the world, while his men swept my place. When he was here, in this half of the city, I wondered if he worried about his well-being. Other places, I was certain he did. This was his domain though.

Maybe I read about him more than I already had before I met him. My browser certainly got a workout from all the photos I'd scrolled through of Jordan. He was most prominent for his businesses and the money he donated. Then again, they weren't going to publish articles about him with a bag of drugs and a cache of guns behind him. In fact, I didn't see one story where he was convicted of a crime. There was plenty of speculating, even some with supposed inside sources, but nothing concrete. If they had evidence, he would have been in prison.

"All good," one of the twins said when he exited. The other stopped just inside the door.

I moved farther inside, holding the door for Jordan, who entered and closed it behind him.

"I always make sure my back is covered," he said.

"I would too if I were…" What was I going to say? If I was walking around with a target on my back. I wasn't a stupid man. People who did what Jordan did weren't loved by everyone. How many times had fights made the news in other cities between warring rival gangs? Jordan would be no different.

"If you were?" He cocked a silver eyebrow.

"You. If I were you." There was no doubt Jordan saw through my fake smile and lie. He didn't call me on it. "If you'll follow me. I have something for you to try on."

In the other room, Jordan walked to the suit I had on the mannequin and ran his fingers along the fabric. There was a surety in his movement, like he could tell the quality of the material and my craftsmanship with a simple touch. Hell, maybe he could.

"This is very nice."

"Thank you." I took a lot of pride in my work. Jordan appreciating it made me happy.

Jordan put the suit on behind a screen to give him privacy, and I made the adjustments with my pins, hoping I got every spot just right. When I was done, I took a step back to take him in. Oh, he was going to look beautiful once this was done, and I didn't just say that because I'd created it. The suit flattered him.

He stood in front of a tall mirror, turning to one side, then the other. "You did very well, Hartley."

"I'm glad you like it."

"I respect a man who's good with his hands. I'm looking forward to being able to wear this." With practiced care, he took off the suit and handed it to me.

Our appointment was done, but I didn't want him to leave yet. It was nice to have another person here, even if he brought big bodyguards with him. Would I feel this way if it were another client? I wasn't certain. Either way, there was nothing left for me to keep him here with. I'd done what I needed to. The rest I could handle on my own.

Jordan sneezed, bringing his arm up to his mouth to cover it. Then he sneezed again. And again.

"Are you all right?" I asked. "Here, let me get you a tissue." I rushed into the other room to retrieve the box of tissues and handed it to him.

He took out a tissue to wipe his nose, then asked where the bathroom was. I showed him the way and left him there. It was in the main hallway off the entrance. A half bath down here and two full baths upstairs. On the top floor was another half bath. It wasn't the nicest, but it was affordable. I did my best to spruce up down here the best I could. The other floors left something to be desired. Right now, no one went up there but me, and apparently Jordan's men.

Jordan emerged a couple of minutes later. "I apologize. I think I caught the cold that's been going around."

"It's that time of year. Colds are expected in winter. We're inside so much more instead of being out and enjoying the sunshine."

"I'll enjoy it from the warmth of a fireplace until we reach spring or summer."

I chuckled. "You never know what you're going to get here. Spring one moment, back to winter another." It was one of the joys of living in eastern Pennsylvania. Mood swing weather. At least now it was cold all the time, more predictable. When the seasons started to change, I could get whiplash from it.

He turned to cough away from me.

"Would you like some tea?" I asked.

"Tea?"

"It always helps me when I'm not feeling well. Or I have soup. Not the homemade kind, but it will be hot and make you feel better." Why did I think Jordan would want to stay so I could attempt to nurse him back to health? He probably had a long list of things to do, not spend the day with me trying to spoon-feed him broth.

The guard stationed inside walked toward us. "Sir, Vivian wanted to remind you about your next appointment."

Jordan's teeth clenched. "I don't need a reminder. I should have never let Irene talk me into this." He turned to me. "The woman who takes care of my home and cooks my meals asked if I needed help in any part of my organization. I don't, at least not for what she was asking about. It seems her daughter is in the middle of a divorce and trying to get on her feet after staying home for years. She wanted to work again but didn't know where to start. Irene asked and now I have an assistant, as much as it pains me."

"You don't want help with your schedule?"

"I've been doing just fine without a person managing my daily life. I like control. Now I have someone trying to tell me where to go when and on me to keep to a schedule. The people I meet with will wait for me. They will wait day and fucking night if I ask them to. I don't give a shit if I'm late to where I'm supposed to be next." I was getting a brief glimpse of another side of Jordan, the one I didn't want to be on. My imagination could take me further into what it would be like to cross him. No, that was nothing I ever wanted to do.

"You're doing a good thing by helping her out. Is there somewhere else you could put her?"

"No, nowhere I'd want, anyway. I'd met Vivian before, but never thought of employing her. Now I have to keep her on long enough or fire her with a hefty check, which sounds better than putting up with this incessant nagging." He coughed.

"Why don't you sit down? Let me make you tea."

He turned to find the guard still standing there. "I will, only to piss everyone off." Well, it wasn't exactly a win, but I'd take it to be in his presence a while longer.

There was something fucked in my head. I got a glimpse of the other side of Jordan, and I still wanted him here. I still wanted to make him tea and have him see me as someone other than a designer.

In the kitchen upstairs, I went to work boiling water in the microwave and getting out the tea bags. I knew this wasn't the best way to make tea, although this was all I had.

The sound of shoes on the hardwood ascending the stairs had me rushing out of the kitchen to find Jordan near the top.

"I'll bring it down to you," I told him.

"Why don't you want me up here? There's nothing dangerous or Reghan and Raiden wouldn't have allowed me inside."

I dropped my head. "This is all I have. And it's a rental. Downstairs is nicer, where I can run my business for the time being."

"Hartley, look at me."

I raised my head at his soft command, unable to fight it.

"It doesn't matter where you rest your head at night. What matters is how high you hold it when you're awake."