Glass Towers, Shattered (Glass Towers Trilogy) (2 page)

I hit answer.

“What the FUCK do you want? I am sick of you… GO AWAY!”

I wait.

Nothing, but I hear faint breathing.

Then a snicker and the call drops.

I feel my insides turn to ice. I have heard this same thing before. Maybe it’s time to email Detective Burke again.

I hop onto my email and send a message to Detective Burke
, outlining the extensive number of calls I have received over the past five weeks, explaining that I have call records to show as much. I give him my new phone number and ask him to contact me directly.

I then call Simone, but she doesn’t answer
, so I leave her a message.

I have no idea what to do next.
I drink more wine and wander aimlessly around the condo, doing things like laundry and cleaning. I have downed almost an entire bottle of wine by 4:00 PM, when I get a knock at the door. Shit! I’m tipsy and someone is at my door. It must be someone I know, otherwise he or she wouldn’t have gotten past Frank. I look through the peephole, and just as I’m about to unbolt the door, Frank belts out, “Hey Danielle, Miss Austen, you there? Got a delivery.”

As he says this, I’m working
my way down the locks.

He chuckles and looks at
my door, “Fort Knox, I see. Well, a lady by herself in the city can’t be too careful. Listen, I have a delivery here for you.”

I don’t see anything in Frank’s hands
, so I’m wondering what he has in store for me. I’m starting to grow impatient, when Frank steps aside, and who should step in front of the door but Harrison. I almost fall over, my head is full of wine and my mind goes into shock. I scowl at them both and hiss at Harrison, “That was a dirty trick using Frank to get to me.” Frank looks at me sheepishly and then says, “Sorry, Miss Austen, he is my boss.” He shrugs and then disappears down the hallway.

Harrison turns to me
, and I notice that he looks like shit. I actually gasp aloud at the sight of him. I know I must look a fright, with my tearstained face, swollen eyes and nose red from too many brushes with tissue in the past few days. But Harrison looks worse!  It appears that he hasn’t slept in days; there are dark circles under his eyes, and speaking of his eyes, they are usually dancing and sparkling pale blue pools, but today they are cloudy and rimmed in red. He has more than a five o’clock shadow, and his clothes have that slept-in look. Despite my sorrow and my rage, my loins betray me by stirring at the mere sight of him. I am momentarily taken off guard by his disheveled appearance, but I regain my composure, and I realize that I need to shut him out. I can’t let him muscle his way in here. I start to close the door, but he quickly shoves his foot into the doorway.

“Please, Danielle, can’t you just hear me out?”
I start shaking my head rapidly, but I don’t move to continue shutting the door. Part of me wants to have my questions answered, despite his ominous warning about the truth being dangerous. I have so many things that I need to know, just so I can move forward with my life.

We continue our standoff, his foot on the threshold, my hand threatening to slam the door into it, until
I finally let him pass through the door.   I make a terrible gatekeeper–to my heart and to my condo.

I lock
only one deadbolt, so I can usher him out with ease in a few minutes. Something tells me he’s not leaving that easily, but I can hope.

He
looks at me expectantly.

“Look, Mr. Towers, you have exactly five minutes and then you WILL need to leave.”
I look at the clock on the wall then back at Harrison. “Your time starts now.” I show him to the living room, and he sits down next to the empty tissue box. 

I sit down in a cognac brown leather chair opposite him
, with the square coffee table separating us. I look at him expectantly. He looks around the room nervously, and then settles his cloudy eyes on mine. I feel my insides stir as we lock eyes. My body, for once, does not respond with my loins being stimulated. No, instead my stomach is stuffed full of butterflies fighting to escape. My mouth is dry, and I am scared more than anything to hear what he has to say. I start twisting my hair around my finger. Enough already! I give an exaggerated look at the clock on the mantle.

He seems to have gotten the message.
He clears his throat, “Danielle, the last thing I ever want to do is hurt you. There are so many things I want to tell you right now, but I can’t, no yet.” I start to interrupt, but he holds his hand up as if to say stop.

He continues.
“I know it is hard or perhaps even impossible to believe that I do not have feelings for Marion. I never have and I never will.” 

He shifts his body so that he is now leaning on the armrest of the sofa.
He reaches behind his back, removes the chenille throw pillow, and places it next to his side. He looks back at me, and I fight to restrain myself from bursting a pipe and allow him to continue. My fingers continue to twist and pull at my hair; it is the only thing keeping me from chewing my fingernails to the quick. .

“I know I have handled the whole situation in Montreal poorly.”

I make a loud un-ladylike snort and nod my head. He ignores me.

“I am sorry that I have not been completely open with you
, but you must understand that it has been for your safety.”

A long awkward silence falls between us.
I am trying to digest what he has told me so far. Has he really told me anything

It is all I can do to refrain from yelling at him.
Instead, I calmly say “My safety, really? “Harrison, you have kept me in the dark about Montreal and Marion. I am
shattered
by your deceit. I feel like I am but a shadow of a person right now, and it is entirely your fault.”

I am choking back sobs
, as I feel hot, wet tears streaming down my face. I quickly wipe them away with shaking hands. I attempt to take a deep breath, but my body shudders, making my breath shallow and ragged.

I continue, “I can’t begin to tell you how devastated I was to hear that you got engaged to her.
You didn’t even give me the courtesy of telling me yourself. It makes no sense to me. I had to find out through Simone. It really felt lousy to find out that in the end, I was just a cheap fuck to you and that obviously you had your sights set elsewhere.”

I wipe away the next set of tears with the sleeve of my shabby grey sweatshirt.

He moves to the edge of the sofa, as if getting ready to spring out of his seat, and he raises his voice.

“Let’s be very clear about this.
At no point have I ever considered you a cheap fuck!”

He stands and starts to advance toward me.
I shrink back in the seat, as if I am melding with the leather. He stops and looks down at me, his red rimmed eyes flashing,

“I am fucking in love with you
, Danielle, and it makes me insane that you would think that.”

Silence.
Complete silence, while I sit staring up into his furrowed eyebrows and blazing eyes. He continues talking, but I stop hearing anything he is saying after his admission that he loves me. I think my heart has stopped beating when my ears quit listening. I quit twisting my hair. I realize that I am staring at a man who just said he is in love with me, who is engaged to another woman. This is totally jacked up!

“Danielle?”

I regain my resolve. “Are you kidding me Harrison? You tell me that you are in love with me; meanwhile, you have a fiancé in Montreal. Apparently, you are no different from Bradley.” I am now shouting and standing, with my hands flailing in front of me.

He is standing just a couple feet away from me
, with his hands on his hips. When he starts to move toward me, I back away, shaking my head. “Oh no, don’t touch me!” I wipe even more tears away.

He stops moving and stands there looking at me
, with his mouth agape. I have never seen this look on his face.

“That really hurts Danielle.
I am nothing like your ex-husband and you know that!”

“Really?
I disagree. Any way you spin it, you screwed me over by making me fall in love with
you
and then
you
go to Montreal and get engaged to a woman with whom you have obviously been involved.  You lied to me about your involvement with her. Repeatedly! Your feelings mean nothing to me now, and I totally regret having opened myself to you.”

He starts to walk toward the French doors
, then turns to face me again. “You can’t really mean that.”

I shake my head yes “Well, I do mean it.”
My tears have dried; anger replacing my sadness.

“What if I told you the whole engagement is a sham and that I am not really marrying her?”

My pulse quickens, “Yes you have said that before, but you’ve given me no reason to trust you. Why would you get engaged to someone you have no intention of marrying? This whole thing is sketchy, Harrison.” I sit back down, trying to calm my heartbeat.

With my best attempt to keep my speak rationally, I continue,
“You have to look at this from my perspective. I only heard from you once while you were in Montreal. Some jerk sent me a newspaper clipping of you and Marion in an embrace, kissing, supposedly celebrating some coup. Then, I find out the next day that you are engaged! What the HELL Harrison? I don’t trust you one bit. Why should I, and by the way, you are have outstayed your five-minute allowance.”

So much for speaking rationally. 
My throat begins to feel scratchy from raising my voice. The tears begin to build, threatening to return.

His eyes are flashing once again.
“I am asking you to trust me because I have not actually lied to you. I have withheld information; there is a distinct difference. You know, I have gone to great measures to protect you. I am being blackmailed, and that is the only reason I agreed to the engagement with Marion.”

My blood turns cold.
I am shocked. “Who is blackmailing you?” I demand.

“Marion.”

“Marion?!” I knew that bitch was up to no good!.

“Yes. Marion Devereaux is blackmailing me. I agreed to the engagement to buy myself time to expose her.”

“Oh Harrison! Expose her for what? Why is she blackmailing you? What kind of woman is so desperate for a man that she would blackmail one into marriage?”

I feel faint
, so I scoot to the edge of the leather chair and lean forward, with my arms resting on my knees. 

“Why wouldn’t you just go to the board of directors or
, at the very least, to your father about the blackmail. Surely they would be able to extinguish her, if you can’t do it.”

He sighs while shaking his head.
“Danielle, slow down. It is beyond complicated. This is where things get messy. I can’t tell you everything. It’s not because I don’t want to, it’s because I can’t! I can’t risk telling you something that would put you in danger.  I won’t risk your safety.”

He stops talking
, while I sit on the edge of my seat in stunned silence.

“Danielle, I am worried for your safety.
I would never forgive myself if anything ever happened to you because of me.”

Shaking my head, “I don’t understand what you are saying.”

“What I fear most is history repeating itself.”

As
I look up at him, turns away from me.

“Harrison, what history are you talking about?”

“Adelaide. I know her car accident was, in fact,
no
accident.”

He is looking away from me
, so I can’t read his face for emotion.

“Wha…what do you mean it was no accident?”

He doesn’t answer for a minute, then he turns back around to face me.

“They ruled it as an accident
, but I know better. She was killed.”

I gasp again
, and I feel a thud in my gut. “How do you know that? Why would you think that?”

“It’s a long story Danielle.
I don’t want to go into that tonight, but I promise I will tell you everything soon.” He pauses. “Can I get something to drink? I’m really thirsty.”

I jump up and head to the kitchen.
I look back over my shoulder and see a shadow cross his face. Anguish has replaced his usual sultry look.

I
remove two bottles of sparkling water from the refrigerator. I don’t bother to get glasses. We are on the verge of a breakthrough; I can just feel it. My insides are still churning, my stomach still overpopulated with butterflies. The anxiety continues to build. I am not sure where this is going to end, and I worry whether I can keep my wits about me and not fall prey to his wiles. I remind myself to remain strong as I carry the water back into the living room. I hand Harrison his bottle, and he removes the lid, taking several large swigs before he resumes his story. I sit back down on my chair and take a few small sips from my bottle.