The Owner's Box

Chapter 40

Harlow POV

As I made my way into the library, I noticed my dad sitting in his recliner, engrossed in a book.

"What's up, Dad?" I asked, settling onto the couch across from him. My eyes wandered around the room, taking in the floor-to-ceiling built-in bookshelves.

This space had always been special to me. Since I was a kid, I'd spent hours here with my dad, reading side by side while jazz softly played in the background. My mom would occasionally pop in to bring us hot chocolate.

He's the reason I fell in love with literature. His collection of rare and collectible books is something I've always admired. I can only hope that one day my own collection will be as impressive as his.

"I just wanted to check in with you. How are you?" he asked, standing and moving to the oak table where a decanter sat. He poured two drinks, handing me a glass before returning to his chair.

I took a moment to think before answering. "I'm...happy," I said, a smile spreading across my face as thoughts of Saint filled my mind.

"Hell yes, you are, baby girl. Happy looks good on you," he said, raising his glass in a small toast before taking a sip.

"Thanks, Pop," I replied, mirroring his action as I sipped from my glass.

"Saint seems like a good person for you. I'd even guess she might be your person," my dad said, his lips curling into a knowing smile as he raised an eyebrow at me.

"I'd have to agree with you," I admitted, unable to hide the grin tugging at my lips. "She's definitely my person. We haven't known each other that long, but I'm completely taken by her. She's beautiful, smart as hell, and doesn't hesitate to put me in my place when something bothers her. She's not with me for my money either—she didn't even want to take my black card earlier," I said, chuckling softly.

The sex is also amazing, I thought to myself, as the smile crept across my face.

"Wow," my dad said, his smile widening. "I can tell how much she admires you. When you aren't looking, the way she watches you—it's like she's completely in love with you." He stood, crossing the room as he spoke.

"I'm also proud of you for the projects you're working on," he continued. "You've always done well, but I'm happiest seeing this change in you. You're less tense. You're more present. I've barely seen you touch your phone this whole trip. This is probably the most I've ever seen you laugh and smile since the day you came into the world," he said warmly, reaching into his desk drawer before returning with a bag.

"I am definitely more relaxed," I said, taking the bag from his outstretched hand. "I feel more productive when I work, but I'm also spending more time being present with the people around me. It feels good."

When I reached into the bag, my fingers brushed against what felt like the outer side of a book. The cover was soft—velvet, I guessed. Pulling it out, my mouth dropped open, and I froze, staring at the forest green velvet cover in complete shock.

"No. No, it can't be," I stammered, looking up at my dad, who was now leaning back casually against his desk, a knowing smile on his face.

He simply nodded, his expression full of pride.

"Oh my gosh. I am... wow... what the fuck?" I exclaimed, my voice rising as tears welled up in my eyes. "Dad! Tell me it's the original. Tell me this is real!" I voice to him in disbelief. "What the fuck? Am I dreaming? This can't be an original Steinberg," I whispered, barely audible now, as I stared down at the treasure in my hands.

I carefully opened the cover, and there it was: the author's note, Steinberg's elegant message to the reader, in his distinct handwriting.

"Dad!" I cried, springing up from my seat to throw my arms around him. I hugged him tightly, squeezing as if he might disappear, while tears streamed down my face. He chuckled softly, kissing the top of my head as we rocked back and forth.