Page 176 of The Company

But the wrong man scoops me up and cradles me in his arms. The wrong man whispers comforting reassurances in my ear. The wrong man sits down on an outdoor couch and holds me tight until I stop shaking.

“It’s the drugs. Just relax and let it wear off.”

I push off him until he lets me go and then I get to my feet. “I’m fine,” I say, refusing to meet his gaze. “I just need to settle in.”

“You’re not fine, Miss Tate. But I agree. The sooner you can settle in, the better off you’ll be.” Vincent gets up and leads me into the home through a massive set of French doors. We end up in a living room. Or maybe it’s a ballroom. It’s so big it makes me dizzy when I look up at the ceiling. We’re entering through the back of the house, so we’re facing the back of the stairs. Up above is a long balcony that spans the entire length of the room. There are two hallways on either side of the stairs, both on the upper and lower floors. Like this house has wings to it.

“Come, I’ll take you to your room. Do you need me to carry you? Or can you manage the stairs?”

What a ridiculous question, I think as I follow him to the stairs. But I’m only halfway up before my pace slows from exhaustion.

“You need to take it slow, Harper. You’ve been drugged too many times in the last several days.” And then he scoops me up in his arms and takes the remaining steps with ease.

He sets me on my feet again when we get to the top and retakes my hand to lead me off to the left. We walk to the very end of the wing and stop in front of a set of double doors. “This is my room,” he says as he opens the door and waves me in. “You can stay in here and I’ll sleep in my office.”

I look back down the hallway. “Why can’t I have my own room?”

“Because this is your room, lionfish.”

“Don’t call me that,” I growl. “And I don’t want to stay in your room. It’s uncomfortable.”

“We can change it tomorrow. But all your things are in here. So for tonight, this is your room.”

“I don’t have any things,” I snap. I can’t help it. I’m tired and I’m starting to feel sick. Probably from all the drugs, as he so thoughtfully reminded me.

“This whole place is filled with your things, Harper. It’s a Company house built for us. Let me show you your closet so you can choose a dress for dinner.”

Dinner? Fuck. I cannot do dinner. Please, no. “Can’t I eat in my room?”

“No,” he says kindly but sternly. “It’s better for you not to have too much time alone to think. Especially when you haven’t taken your pills.”

I scrunch up my eyes. “I don’t take those anymore. James doesn’t want me to take them.”

“I don’t want you to take them either, Harper. I want you to be in control at all times. I don’t even want to offer you a drink at dinner, but my mother insisted we have a drink to celebrate.”

“Your mother?”

My repulsion must be evident in my voice, because he chuckles. “Don’t worry, she’s not here. We’ll have plenty of time to get to know one another before I unleash that horror on you.”

I can’t stop the huff of relief and then a smile follows before I can stop it.

“See,” Vincent says. “See, it’s not so bad here. Now look,” he says, leading me into the massive room. The decorations are as traditional as the ones downstairs. The wood is dark and thick. The fabrics are rich colors—blood-red maroons, deep mustard yellows, and emerald greens. The drapes are closed tight so there’s no view outside. But the windows must be spectacular, since the curtains flow down the entire length of the wall and spill out into a puddle of fabric on the floor. There’s a sitting area on the far side of the room. It’s bigger than the size of my living space in Huntington Beach. “Here are the closets,” Vincent says, leading me over to another side of the room. “Mine is on this side and yours is over there.”

He opens the double doors that lead to my closet and reaches around the corner to flip on the light. It’s filled with clothes and shoes. Handbags. I’ve never carried a handbag. Boots. Not the kind you wear on a boat. The tall kind. The short kind. The fancy kind. There are so many cabinets and drawers, I have no idea what to think.

“Six,” I say.

“What?” Vincent laughs.

“Six outfits. I’ve never owned more than six outfits in my life.”

“Oh, yes. I guess there’s not a lot of room for so many things on a boat.”

“Why do I need so many clothes? I’m not trying to be difficult, I just don’t understand it.”

His hands wrap around my waist and he pulls me into his chest. “Miss Tate, your life is about to change. One day—not today, or tomorrow, or even next week when we have our first party as a power couple—but one day you will have so many people to see, and so many things to do, that you will look at this closet and realize it’s not enough. You have dresses for balls. For fundraisers. For stepping out on the town with your husband for drinks. You have shorts and bathing suits for the pool or the beach, or traveling to see your father on his yacht. You’ll have coats and boots for braving the weather when you have to visit New York or Chicago because some aspect of the many, many boards of directors you will participate in require your personal attention.

“Your life will be filled with interesting people, and special dinners, and parties. You will see injustices in this world and want to rage against them. You will command people to help you do that, and you will change the future. You will shape the future, Harper. You will talk and people will listen. You will admonish bad behavior and practices will change. You will be a force, Miss Tate. You will be a force and all those acts require clothes.”