𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐒 two years ago, my life changed forever. All it took was one night to alter the rest of my life. I wasn't sure about a lot of things however, there are two things that I was absolutely certain on: what I wanted to wear and who...
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Something hits my window, startling me awake. I wipe the sleep from my eyes, looking around my dark bedroom but finding nothing. My gaze turns to the two large windows that are opposite my bed. Another small ping comes from the right window.
I drag myself out of my warm bed and look down, seeing George with a handful of stones. He stands in my garden, face lit up by the small light in the plants surrounding him. When he catches me looking down, he gives me a lopsided grin and drops the handful of stones.
He motions for me to lift up my window so I do exactly that. "I'm home alone you twat," I call down, watching his throat bop as he chuckles.
"Old time sake," he shrugs, running a hand through his hair and as he does I catch a crimson stain on his knuckles. But what he means by 'old time sake' is that when we started four years ago, we had to sneak around. It was easier to hide since we were at boarding school majority of the time but during holidays, he'd throw stones up at my window to sneak inside.
Don't get me wrong, his family loves me and mine loves him. My dad just doesn't want his little girl banging a gangster. And yes, I'm calling George a gangster because it's kind of what he is. Illegal boxing, bets, money—lots of money coming from nowhere. And of course, his dad's businesses not being totally legal.
Not everyone knows what goes on in the basement of every Forbes club but I do because I'm not stupid. Blake and my dad are good friends—always have been and so I've overheard a few conversations that I probably shouldn't of.
"Go round the front, I'll let you in," I shout down, getting his attention. He flashes me a smile before jumping back over my garden fence.
Quickly, I dart into my en-suit and brush out my hair, run the toothbrush over my teeth and slip on my La Perla lace-trim detail nightdress.
The doorbell rings just as I'm running down the stairs and skidding across the black and white marble that runs throughout the entranceway of my Park Lane home.
Opening the door, I take in the sight of a drunk, bloodied George. "Can Harper Hayes come out to play?" He bats his eyelashes at me, smiling boyishly.
I pull him in by his Stone Island Compass patch sweatshirt with a grin on my face. He takes my hand and interlaces our fingers but I drag him into the kitchen and shove him down on a chair before he can take me upstairs to my bedroom.
"What you doing?" He groans as I start opening cupboards to look for the first aid kit I know we have.
"Looking after you."
"Why?"
"Because if I don't who will? And I also don't want you getting blood on my sheets. I changed them today." I pull out the first aid box from under the sink and grab a few alcohol wipes and plasters.
"You're such a good girl," he drawls and runs his bloodied knuckles across my cheek. I scowl. He laughs.
I rip open one of the wipes and start wiping at a gash on the side of his face. He has beautiful tanned skin from days spent lounging in the sun on family holidays. Dark eyes that promise nothing but fear and fun and danger and hurt.
