Good Intentions| Editing

Twenty Eight

"I am too. Come sit." He leads me to the plush leather couch and pours me a glass of water. "I'm sorry for the harsh words I said when I last spoke to you. It was quite rude."

What words? Then I remember. He said he wouldn't publish me because of my relationship with Harry. "It's quite all right Mr. Wells. I hope we can move past it." I sip from my glass as he goes to sit down right next to me. He was so close I could feel his breath on my cheek.

"It's Chris love. And speaking of Harry, how is he? I heard you moved in together." Chris says leaning back in his chair.

"Where'd you hear that from?" I say confusion lacing my tone.

"People talk." I look down at my hands. He would never publish me. He had too many grudges. Well of course he isn't. He's gonna go to jail.

"I have my manuscripts-" But I'm stopped when Chris lays a hand on my thigh where my dress had ridden up. Just call already , Harry.

"You should ask your boyfriend how my wife is. I'd like to know." Chris says downing the rest of his glass of water.

"What-what are you talking about?" I ask looking at his hand that had slid further up my thigh. His hands were covered in black hair. Gross.

"Delilah won't even let me touch her. Harry must have magic hands. You're still with him so you must know." Chris glares his blazing blue eyes into mine sending me off my guard. I have to repeat his sentence in his head twice more to fully understand his words.

"You're not implying what I think you're implying, right?" I ask trying to regain my composure. Harry was no cheater. Mr. Wells would have to be lying. He hated Harry with a passion, and I could see his motives of turning me against Harry. My head was already filled with the whole evil act thing, that I couldn't stand hearing about Harry cheating on me. But for some odd reason, my ears wouldn't turn away.

A phone rings bringing me from my reverie. Harry."Speak of the devil. Excuse me for a moment," Mr. Wells says getting up from his spot and then leaving the room.

I jump of from my spot on the couch and fling myself into his computer. He had one of those fancy Apple computers, and my confidence sinks because I never used one before. Luckily, the machine was already logged in. His home screen was flooded with files, icons, and other things. I searched for what I wanted and in under ten seconds I found his financial folder. I click on the file and I'm flooded with more links. When I click on the month of February, a knock on the door sounds. Fuck.

I quickly lodge myself under his desk just before the door opens. I see a pair of heels walking towards the desk from the little crack on the bottom. It was clearly an assistant. Her feet were pale white and veiny. On her left ankle sat a small eye tattoo. The ink was quite creepy, with little, bony fingers crawling out of the socket and clumpy eyelashes. It had me mortified.

"Mr. Wells?" she asks in a high pitched girly voice. I hear her set something on his desk, most likely a cup of coffee. I recognized the sound from doing it so much. Her feet start to walk away from me, the eye tattoo scaring me once more before she leaves. I quickly get up and return to the computer. I click on the document and my eyes scan it for the right information. Bingo.

I could see why Harry wanted to take him down. He stole thousands of dollars from his clients just in the month of February. He could by a yacht if he kept this act up for another month. After I send the document to the printer, and close all the tabs I opened, I stuff the paper in my bra and return to the couch. Just as I sit, Mr. Wells walks in.

"So sorry about that. No one important. Now what were we talking about?"Chris says coming back, sitting closer to me before so now our legs touched. He puts his hand back on my thigh nearing my forbidden area.

I stand up from my spot repulsed by his actions to seduce me. "You think Harry is cheating on me with your wife." I accuse of him.

"Yes." He puts flatly staring at me with a smirk. How could he be happy about this?

I run my fingers through my hair, my thoughts racing. This couldn't be true. Could it? "Mr. Wells, I think I'm going to find another publisher..." I say reaching for my purse, but his strong grip on my wrist stops me.

"I'll be seeing you again." His eyes were petrifying. They were brimming with wickedness.

And by the look in his eyes, I didn't doubt it.
••••••••••••••
Harry springs up from his spot on the couch, when I slam the door closed. "Well?" he asks putting his fingers on his lips and playing with them. I fish the paper out of my bra, Harry smirks when I do this, and I push the paper into his chest, already walking away. He grabs the paper before it falls to the marble floor and unfolds it, reading.

My head was full of Harry and whether or not he cheated. My heart believed that Harry was telling the truth, that he was still in love with me, but my head said he was cheating. And I tended to trust my head more.

Mr. Wells' words made sense for some odd reason. And I hated myself because of it. I hated Harry because of it. I was going to tell him I knew, then I was going to leave, and find somewhere to sleep. I was going to be okay. I always was.

"Arabella, thank you so much." Harry says coming up to me from behind and hugging me, but I push him away.

Pushing my feeling away and putting up a wall, I say to him coldly, "So you only want to be affectionate towards me when I do something for you."

Harry is taken aback by my statement. He crosses his arms over his black t-shirt flexing his muscles in the process. He opens his mouth to speak, but I continue on with my rant. "You know Mr. Wells had a lot to say to me today. Except it wasn't about how my book was going to be a best seller or how I came up with a masterpiece. Instead, he talked about you."

Harrys face pales. Harry opens his mouth to speak again, but quickly closes it when I hold up my hand.

"And Delilah."

All the blood rushes from his face. His green eyes flick to everywhere but me. And I got my answer.

Looking Harry right in his eyes, I ask with all the strength I could muster. "Are you cheating on me?"

Harry clears his throat still looking at everything but nothing. If he denied it, then I would know he was a cheater and an asshole. If he said he did cheat, he would still be a cheater but a little less of an asshole. And I hated that both of those options left me without Harry. Harry finally looks up at me, his green eyes that I loved so welling with salty tears.

"Yes."
•••••••••••••••
I cannot believe HS1 is ending. But Harry deserves a break.
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Emma