I love you Harper

Harper rolled over on the bed restlessly. Her elbow knocked against something solid.

Her eyes snapped open.

In one swift motion, she slid a hand beneath her pillow, gripped the hidden knife, and sprang up—her eyes fierce and alert. She caught the figure by the throat and pressed the blade hard against his skin.

"Who are you?" she demanded through gritted teeth, her breath ragged.

A familiar, calm voice answered with a teasing edge, "Ain't you just too sensitive, Harper?"

Her heart stopped for a second.

"Quincy?" she gasped.

He chuckled lowly, flipping her over with effortless ease. The knife flew from her hand as he disarmed her in one fluid move. It clattered to the floor.

"Why are you so scared, Harper?" he murmured, eyes searching her face. "You have a guard outside your door. No one can come for you in the courtesan house."

She sat up, her chest heaving slightly. "I was just being watchful," she mumbled.

Quincy leaned back, voice gentler. "Let your guard down a little. Stop being so nervous."

Harper met his gaze, eyes flickering with something deeper than fear. "I'm dealing with people way beyond my league. They're powerful… how can I not be scared?"

Quincy reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm here for you. I'll protect you, Harper. I promise."

Her expression softened. "Thank you, Quincy…"

"It's fine, baby."

There was a beat of silence. Then she blinked. "Why did you come here at midnight?"

He stretched out beside her. "I was working late. Got tired… and I didn't want to go home."

She frowned slightly. "Why not just rest at your place?"

"There's no peace at home. Too many people, too many eyes. And… I missed you," he added, voice low and sincere.

A smile tugged at her lips. "I missed you too."

He stood up suddenly. "Come with me."

She blinked. "Where to?"

"Just come."

He took her hand, tugged her to her feet. She quickly slid her feet into her slippers and followed him. As they stepped out of the room, Sage appeared and joined them silently in the elevator.

It hummed softly as it ascended—higher than Harper had ever gone in the courtesan house.

"We're going to the last floor?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes, baby," Quincy said, smiling.

"It's my first time being here…"

He nodded. "Aside from cleaners, no one comes up."

"Really?" Her curiosity lit up.

"Yes. Come on."

He led her down the quiet hallway, pressed his fingerprint against a scanner, and the door clicked open.

Harper's mouth fell open in awe as they stepped into the penthouse.

"Oh my goodness… This is the penthouse?"

"Yes," he confirmed, eyes on her reaction.

"It's… it's beautiful! So huge and luxurious!"

He grinned. "It's the biggest space in the courtesan house.

"I love it!" she exclaimed, spinning around to take it all in.

"I had the master bedroom redone in blue and white. Since you love the color," he said casually.

Her eyes widened. "Wow!" She ran from room to room, like a child in a wonderland.

"There are several rooms here," she marveled.

"You can move Freya and Sage up here too," Quincy said. "The space is big—you won't bump into each other if you want privacy."

She wandered into a side room and froze.

Portraits lined the wall—women from different generations. At the center was her own framed photograph, taken the day she became a courtesan.

"I never knew I had a picture like this…"

"Madam Fransisca sent it to me. I had it framed."

She looked around. "Who are all these women?"

"Former courtesans," he said. "The ones who built the Dylan Foundation from the ground up."

"And… why is my picture here?"

"You're the first courtesan to be given the Dylan penthouse," he said softly. "You're one of those great ones now. You belong here."

Emotion flickered in her eyes. "You think so highly of me…"

"I definitely do," Quincy said without hesitation.

She ran back to him, cheeks flushed with excitement. "I can't believe this."

He caught her mid-spin and lifted her effortlessly off the floor.

"Hey! What are you doing?" she laughed.

"You'll find out," he said with a smirk, carrying her into the bedroom.

She blushed hard. "Put me down…"

He laid her gently on the bed and pulled off his shirt, his eyes fixed on her with burning affection. He leaned over her, lips brushing against her skin.

But just as he came closer, Harper smirked—and flipped him over.

Quincy blinked, stunned. "Becoming wild, huh?"

"Definitely," she purred, straddling him. Her fingers slid to his belt. She unbuckled it and flung it aside with a dramatic flick.

He groaned, caught between surprise and arousal. "Harper…"

She stood slowly, letting her robe slip from her shoulders until it fell soundlessly to the floor.

She was breathtaking—fierce and bare in the soft blue light.

He swallowed hard. "Harper…"

She tilted her head, coy. "Hmm?"

"Do everything you want to me," he whispered.

Harper stood there, bathed in the soft blue light of the penthouse room, her robe pooled silently at her feet. The cool air kissed her bare skin, but her gaze never left Quincy.

He lay on the bed, half-risen on his elbows, eyes devouring her slowly—reverent, hungry, almost disbelieving.

"Harper," he breathed, voice husky, "you're… beautiful."

She didn't speak. Instead, she walked toward him—slow, deliberate steps—like a flame dancing in the dark. She climbed back onto the bed and straddled him again, pressing her palms against his chest, feeling the heat of his bare skin.

He reached for her waist, but she caught his hands and pinned them gently above his head.

"Didn't you say… do everything I want to you?" she whispered against his lips.

His breath hitched. "I did."

"Then stay still."

He obeyed, letting her take control, his hands captive under her grip. She leaned down, her hair falling around his face like a curtain, and kissed him—soft at first, then deeper, bolder. He tasted like mint and something uniquely him. She bit his lower lip gently, pulling a low groan from his throat.

Harper released his hands slowly, and they flew to her back, pulling her closer, grounding himself in the moment. His fingers traced her spine, sending shivers down her skin. She trailed kisses down his jaw, along his collarbone, down his chest—marking him with her lips, with her presence.

He sat up and held her tighter, their bodies colliding with urgency. There was a tenderness in his touch, even when his need grew bolder.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he turned her beneath him. Her breath caught in her throat, but her eyes held no fear—just trust and desire.

"Are you sure?" he murmured, voice rough, his forehead pressed to hers.

"Yes," she whispered, wrapping her legs around him. "Quincy… I want this. I want you."

That was all he needed.

The rest of the night unfolded in breathless gasps and whispered names. No games, no secrets—just them, tangled in each other like they belonged nowhere else. In that moment, Harper wasn't a courtesan, and Quincy wasn't a kingmaker—just two scarred souls clinging to the only warmth they'd found in a cruel world.

And as the moonlight spilled through the wide windows, the city below forgotten, they gave in to each other—completely.

"That was crazy," Harper murmured, breath still uneven as she lay curled beside him, her head on his chest.

Quincy chuckled softly, brushing a few strands of hair from her damp forehead. "It was," he agreed, voice warm and laced with satisfaction.

There was a brief silence, heavy but comfortable. Quincy looked down at her, eyes serious now, no longer playful.

"Harper," he whispered, stroking her bare shoulder, "I love you."

She blinked, surprised. Her head lifted slightly from his chest, brows furrowing. "You… love me?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation, his hand now holding hers. "Don't you?"

She stared at him, unsure. "I haven't really thought about it… if I love you."

Quincy's face fell just a little. His smile faded at the edges, though he tried to hold it. "Am I not putting in enough effort?"

"You are," she said gently, squeezing his hand.

"Then… why don't you love me yet?" His voice cracked at the end, vulnerability bleeding through.

"I will," she whispered.

He turned his head to look at the ceiling, then let out a slow breath. "I should try harder then."

"Maybe," she said softly, though she avoided his eyes.

Quincy gave a hollow chuckle and shook his head. "You just broke my heart," he said, half-teasing, half-hurt. "But I don't wanna leave you still."

"Who you gonna leave me for?" Harper asked, eyes fluttering closed again.

"Nobody," he whispered, pulling the blanket higher around them. "You belong to me only… and I love you so much. I'll make you see that."

He kissed her forehead gently, letting his lips linger there for a moment. Harper was already fast asleep, breathing deeply, her hand still loosely tangled with his.

Quincy stared at her sleeping face, fingers brushing against her cheek as though memorizing it. He didn't say another word—just held her tighter and let the silence wrap around them like a second blanket.