Page 4 of Wilde Secrets

A hand landed on her shoulder, and she jerked, letting out a loud squeak. People at the next table turned to look, and her cheeks heated.

She whipped her head around to see Isla’s bodyguard, King, staring down grimly at her.

King was a solid wall of muscle, barely disguised by his immaculate black suit. If it wasn’t for the bulge at his side where she knew he carried a gun, and the way he constantly scanned the room, she’d mistake him for a guest. His thick brown hair was cut military short, parted on top and swept to one side, the hint of a tattoo peeking out from the collar of his crisp white shirt.

“Please come with me, Miss Harper,” he said quietly.

Harper glanced from him to her father, who nodded subtly, and she realized who he was contacting only moments before.

King was never far away from Isla, much to her sister’s annoyance, and had obviously been watching from the side of the ballroom.

“What’s going on?” Isla’s eyes darted around the group.

“Harper isn’t feeling well,” their father said, which wasn’t entirely a lie.

Harper’s stomach flipped once more, and she pressed a hand to her belly, willing her dinner to stay down.

“Oh, no.” Isla reached to grip Harper’s other hand. “Not another panic attack?”

Harper shook her head mutely, avoiding Isla’s attempt to meet her eyes. How could she tell her what she’d done? She couldn’t ruin everything for her. She didn’t want to see the look on Isla’s face when she realized that everything she’d worked hard for—that their entire family had worked hard for—had come to an end.

All the music lessons of their childhood, the summers spent at singing camps, the competitions… All for nothing.

Harper stifled a sob as she let King lift her to her feet. Gripping her elbow, he escorted her from the ballroom. The room was a blur as her eyes filled with tears, spilling down her cheeks in a river. She kept in the sob until they were free of the eyes of the ballroom crowd, and then she collapsed onto a padded bench in the hotel’s hallway.

Tears streaming down her face, she heard King speaking softly on the phone, and then he squatted down in front of her to meet her eyes.

“Harper? Look at me.” His voice compelled her to look up. “We need to get you out of here.”

“I’ve ruined everything!” She was almost in hysterics, her words coming in gasping sobs. To her mortification, it came out more like “I-I-I’ve ru-ru-ruined everyth-ing-ing-ing”. Not her best moment.

King smiled grimly. “Maybe you have.”

That stopped her. “What?”

“Maybe you have ruined everything. Maybe you haven’t. There’s only one way to get through this mess, though.”

That was more words than she’d ever heard him say in one go. Normally, he hovered silently behind Isla. Harper wondered if he talked this much to her sister.

He offered her a pack of tissues, and she dabbed below her eyes and tried to calm her breathing.

“How do I get through this?”

He nodded at her as if pleased she’d asked the question. “One day at a time.”

Dabbing at her eyes, she sat up straight and took a shuddering breath. “Ok, so what do I do?”

He looked away down the hallway and his lips thinned, as if he was not happy about what he had to say next. “You do what your dad asks, and hope that he’s right.”

Harper nodded. That was what she had expected. Jay Holden always had a solution for every problem.

King stood and offered her a hand up, which she waved away, pushing herself to her feet. His brotherly, no-nonsense attitude was exactly what she needed right now. If he’d offered sympathy, she probably would have cried even more.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Harper followed him until they reached the foyer of the hotel. The space was enormous, an expanse of marble floor dotted with expensive-looking rugs and lounge chairs grouped intimately in sets of two and three. The glass doors that led to the front of the hotel were guarded by uniformed doormen.

King paused before them, gesturing at the doorman to wait before opening the door.

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