12. Hartley

This was what I got for letting Jordan stay longer in my space. For offering him tea and telling him I was interested in him. I caught his damn cold. And now I had to deliver the first suit to his building feeling like shit.

I'd worked hard to get it finished, but then the illness settled in, and every action became that much more difficult to do. It was done now. The only thing left was to deliver it, then I could climb into bed in my bedroom that had somewhat adequate heat. At least I wouldn't freeze. If only the windows weren't so drafty and there was more insulation. Beggars couldn't be choosers. Eventually, I'd get out of here and into a nicer place, like I had before. I just had to keep reminding myself it was all for a reason, so I didn't have to let go of my grandfather's home.

I carefully laid the suit in a garment bag and zipped it up, making sure it wasn't being wrinkled. With how sick I was, a simple task like this felt more difficult than normal. My nose was congested, my throat hurt, and when I coughed, that pain intensified.

The car I'd ordered was here, so I gently lifted the suit and grabbed my keys. My phone and wallet were already in my pockets. The cold air bit into me when I stepped outside, my jacket doing little to keep me warm. It looked good on me though. It wasn't enough to fight the wind currently blowing through the city. At least I only had to walk from the door to the car.

Once inside, I laid the suit over the seat beside me, careful to not let it touch the floor. I didn't care that it was in a bag. This was for Jordan, and I'd be damned if anything happened to it before it got to him.

This morning, I'd sent a text asking if he'd be home so I could drop it off. He said he would be. I thought he'd offer to have one of his men come pick it up. Then again, everything with Jordan had been very hands-on, including my hand on him. Maybe, just maybe, he wanted to see me again.

I kept that thought in my mind as I rode through East Dremest and tried not to cough or sneeze while in the car with the complete stranger. I didn't want to get her sick. She was out here trying to earn a living, just like I was. I didn't know her situation. She could depend on driving others to cover her bills and feed her family. I pressed my lips together and pinched my nose, willing the sneeze I felt to stay at bay until we were a block down from Jordan's. I wasn't foolish enough to have the car drop me off in front of his building. Not only would his guards be on full alert, but it would probably scare the hell out of the woman driving.

The chilly January air was back to pushing through my coat as I walked the block to the front of Jordan's building. A guard in a car by the curb stepped out and looked me over from head to toe. He was the size of a mountain, but I didn't cower. I held my chin up and told him I was here to see Jordan and that he was expecting me.

The guard pulled out his phone while I stood shivering on the sidewalk, wondering if I just exasperated my cold by leaving the house. There was nothing to be done about it now. I was already here.

I was instructed to go into the building. It was tall and imposing, but not too much. None of the buildings here loomed over me. This one though, it was like it had a presence. Like it knew who it housed inside and did its best to deter people.

A different guard met me at the door to give me a quick pat down. He explained this was for Mr. Altair's safety, which I understood. This was also the most a man had touched me in a while. If I wasn't sick, I probably would have popped wood when his hand went over my crotch.

I'd never been in a place like this, where every corner of the interior was protected by men with guns. They didn't even try to hide them. They held them close like me, a man with a garment bag, was going to suddenly pull a gun from it and go after Jordan. When the bag was searched, I told the guard to not wrinkle the fabric. The look he gave me would have had a lesser man shrinking into himself.

I knew Jordan didn't do what he did with me the other day with just anyone. It felt like I was getting a piece of him very few did. So, this guy moving the suit around could kiss my ass. I wrenched it away from him, then smoothed down the material. Fucker.

The elevator ride to the top floor was with another guard. They blended. Tall, stacked with muscles, broad chests, and thick thighs. If I wasn't currently hooked on a certain mafia boss, I might give them more than a cursory glance.

When the doors opened, I didn't expect to find a home that looked like an upscale art display rather than a warm, inviting space. Although, Jordan didn't scream inviting when I saw him. Why would his home?

The floors were gleaming without a scuff or mark on them. The paintings and sculptures were each displayed with precision, so whoever entered knew they weren't walking into just anybody's house. Then there were the vases that drew my eyes to them. They were beautiful, with muted shades to go with the rest of the decor. It was stunning.

As my eyes kept sweeping the area, they eventually landed on Jordan, who stood waiting for me. I completely missed him there before, which was surprising. My gaze usually found him and latched on.

"Hartley, thank you for bringing the suit."

Raiden, at least I think it was him. I had trouble telling them apart. He took the suit from me and hung it in the closet near the elevator.

"Don't you want to look at it?" I asked Jordan, trying to keep the rough sound from my voice. This damn cold was destroying me from the neck up.

"I've already seen it, and I trust your work. You wouldn't deliver something that wasn't finished and perfected."

"No, never." I couldn't imagine doing such a thing. Then I sneezed because there was only so long I could hold it in. The car ride over was challenging. There was no way I was getting through a conversation with Jordan without a sneeze or a cough sneaking their way in.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. It's just a cold." Or strep or something else awful. Who knew at this point? I didn't have health insurance, so it wasn't like I dragged my ass to a clinic every time I caught a winter illness.

"Come in and have a seat. Irene, can you prepare some tea for Mr. Weathers?"

"Certainly," a woman replied.

"You don't have to do that," I told Jordan. "I don't plan to stay for long."

"Nonsense. I was the one who got you sick. I had the flu, by the way, which is what you most likely have. Now I'm going to make sure you're okay. This is my fault. I should have reached out to you about it."

He walked with me to his living room, where we sat on the couch. It was solid black with straight lines, very contemporary, but the cushions didn't give enough when I sat on them.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I was hoping to sink into the couch."

"The people who visit me here aren't meant to feel comfort. They're to do what they need to and leave." That seemed cold, but this was Jordan I was talking to.

"Even your family?"

"My son and nephew expect nothing different from me."

"What about when you want to relax?" He had to unwind at some point, kick back, put his feet up. Now that I'd thought about it, I couldn't picture him doing anything other than sitting around in his suits while he barked orders at people. It made me feel special that he didn't do the same with me.

"I have a bedroom for that, with a TV in it and anything else I could need."

"Okay, that makes sense, I guess."

Before he could say more, a woman with light brown, shoulder-length hair with gray woven through it stepped in front of us. She was curvy with tan slacks and a white blouse on, and a black apron covering her front. Her kind brown eyes found mine as she set the mug and saucer on the table in front of us. "There you go. Can I get you anything else?"

"No, this is very nice of you," I said.

"You look flushed." She leaned forward, pressing her hand to my forehead before I could react. "You have a fever. I'll be right back."

I turned to Jordan. "What's happening?"

"That's Irene. She takes care of my home and feeds me. Now she's going to mother you."

She returned with a thermometer in her hand. "I don't like this thing. I remember the older ones I had to slip under the tongue. Then there were the ear ones. This is like scanning a package of meat at the supermarket." She hovered it over my forehead until I heard it vibrate. "A hundred and one point two. Have you taken anything for the fever?"

"You don't have to go to any trouble."

"If you don't answer her, she'll keep asking," Jordan stated.

"I haven't." I didn't even realize I had a fever.

"I'll be right back." She bustled away.

Jordan lifted the mug and offered it to me. "If you don't drink it, she'll try to feed it to you herself. Ask me how I know."

I carefully took the mug, not wanting to spill it on his furniture or myself. The warmth would feel good. I was still shivering from being outside. Jordan noticed. He stood and hit a button for the fireplace to come to life.

"Would you like a blanket?" he asked.

"A blanket?"

"Yes, the piece of fabric you put over yourself when you're cold," he said, clearly getting annoyed with me.

I took a sip of the tea and placed it on the coffee table, then stood. "No, I don't want a blanket. I need to go home." His attitude was driving me away. Not the kind woman trying to help me or Reghan, Raiden, whoever, standing near the elevator.

But I didn't get far because Jordan's hand wrapped around my wrist to hold me in place. "You're not leaving."

"Excuse me?" I asked. "I'm not being held prisoner here. It's clear you don't want me to stay." There was no point in trying to keep the hurt from my voice. I thought we'd turned a corner after the last time I saw him. That I was more to him than just the guy who made his fucking suits.

"Hartley." He pulled me close until he could put his palm on the side of my neck. "I'm not an easy man. It's not natural for me to express emotions outside of anger. I get irritated quickly."

"Is this where you say it's not you, it's me?"

"It would be the truth."

As much as I wanted to sink into his touch, I resisted it. "If you don't want me here, just say so."

"Let Irene take care of you. I'll call my doctor too."

"Is that why?" I had to know if he felt guilty for getting me sick or if there was more to it.

He leaned close so his lips brushed over the shell of my ear, sending chills skating over my body that had nothing to do with the fever. "Please stay. For me."

I waited for him to look me in the eye again. There was no resisting him. Not when his gaze said more than his lips did. He wanted me here, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit the reason out loud.