Harrison was still reeling from getting bitch–slapped when Maxwell started screaming again.
“Get out! Pack your shit and get your ass to our Seattle office! Don’t even think about coming back without my permission!”
Margot sighed and handed him a debit card.
“Your new salary’s five grand a month. Don’t get any bright ideas–all your credit cards are canceled, trust fund’s frozen, company accounts locked down.”
Harrison stared at that flimsy piece of plastic–probably the least money he’d ever held in his life.
“Are you people insane? You’re gonna destroy me over this bitch and some bastard that isn’t even mine?”
He whirled around to glare at me. “Vivian, you’re gonna pay for this!”
I ignored his tantrum.
But Celeste had followed him in, and now she threw her arms around his shoulders with fake bravado.
“Harrison, Seattle’s not that bad! I’ll come with you–we can make it work anywhere, right?”
Harrison melted the second he looked at her, pulling her close.
“You’re right, princess. As long as you’re with me, I don’t need their money. Love conquers all, right?”
Harrison’s chin jutted out like some defeated rooster still trying to act tough.
The day they packed up and left, I was pulling overtime at the precinct.
One of my officers stuck his head through the window, sounding amazed. “Captain Waverly, isn’t that Whitmore and his girl? Why the hell are they driving a beat–up Jetta?”
I glanced up to see Harrison struggling to cram suitcases into a tiny trunk.
Celeste stood nearby, her face scrunched up–clearly disgusted by their downgrade in transportation.
Even after they got in the car, I could see Celeste’s mouth running non–stop, obviously bitching him out. Harrison was leaning over, trying to calm her down with this pathetic puppy–dog expression.
I went back to my case files.
After that day, I stopped giving a damn about Harrison Whitmore.
But I had an old contact at the Seattle branch–one of my father’s former staffers–who’d text me updates every few weeks.
“Ms. Waverly, Harrison made quite the entrance when he first got here. Rented some fancy house in Bellevue, taking Celeste on tours of the whole Pacific Northwest like he was showing off his kingdom.”
“Guy was dropping cash like it was Monopoly money–buying Celeste designer bags like they were groceries, didn’t even check the price tags.”
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Fifteen Years of Love, Lost in One Night with His Sugar Baby
Chapter 8
“Though Celeste doesn’t seem too happy. Keeps complaining that Seattle’s not Manhattan, can’t get the limited–edition stuff she
wants.”
The messages trickled in sporadically. I’d usually just reply “Got it.”
After about two months, the tone started shifting.
“Harrison’s burning through his money fast. Had to ditch the mansion, moved into some regular apartment complex.”
“Saw him in the employee cafeteria yesterday. Celeste was ripping into him about not being able to afford her makeup
anymore.”
“Today was wild–Celeste was all over some other dude at Nordstrom. Harrison confronted them and the guy’s bodyguard shoved him on his ass. Totally humiliating.”
I stared at my phone screen, then put it away without responding.
Two weeks later, another message came through.
My contact said Celeste had been cheating with some local coal mining heir, and Harrison had caught them at a hotel.
Apparently Harrison went completely psychotic, destroyed the whole hotel room.
The rich kid’s security dragged him out and dumped him on the sidewalk like a bag of garbage.
“He sat in the rain all night. Bought a ticket back to New York the next morning.”
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Fifteen Years of Love. Lost in One Night with His Sugar Baby
Chapter 9
