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━━━━ " 📠  "

𝙎 𝙀 𝙑 𝙀 𝙉  𝙒 𝙊 𝙉 𝘿 𝙀 𝙍 𝙎

! chapter one ─── ʚĭɞ

╰ ╯

SHE HAD TO MISS A NIGHT of promised fun to be there, and considering she knew for a fact the evening would consist of nothing but talking to boring executives, CEOs and reporters, there would be no way of remedying that situation. At least she had the open bar - that was always a plus for any of the draining events her presence as the daughter of a Viscount was required at.

Harlow would need it anyway, lots and lots of champagne and martinis to numb the pain in her feet after wearing heels, and the alcohol would carry her mind away to a happy place where the steady, monotonous conversation would blur away into a background buzz.

But now she was in London instead of Oxford, stood in her assigned bedroom of their more recently bought house on Kensington Church Street. Chosen by her mother, it certainly didn't lack the luxury the family were so used to, and was much more modern than the family estate, or the country house that acted as a halfway mark between London and Devon.

Evening had approached quickly, the summer sun still considerably high in the sky and only just thinking of setting, amber-toned beams of light shooting through the panes. In an hour or so it would be twinged pink, but alas, she would either be in the car to the venue or already arrived, and would only be able to marvel in the beauty of it at the fundraiser.

She had been getting ready for the past half-hour, makeup applied, tiny leather handbag with the obvious branding stuffed full with her phone, lipgloss, mascara, her card and some spare money. Her heels were sat beside it on the cushioned stool of her dressing table, the black matching her dress.

That was one of the things Harlow did enjoy about the stupid fundraiser nights. She got to wore pretty dresses - and this one was especially beguiling. Black velvet clung to her figure, artistically positioned over her torso, the neck coming around in a smooth curve, an almost corset-like structure drawing in her waist. 

It was somewhat simple compared to what lay over it. The focus of the dress wasn't the fabric, but instead the golden chains settled over it. Connected to a deep red jewel in her chest, various chains crossed over her shoulders and forearms, a similar connection around her waist. It was nothing short of a masterpiece.

"Harlow." A voice from the doorway, the striking, heavily dyed hair of her mother met her eyes first, dragging her attention from the mirror in which she adjusted the floor-length dress in, and turning to face her. "You look wonderful."

Claudia Harmsworth took several, tiny steps across the carpeted room, coming to a stop in front of the daughter and twisting her finger around a lock of dark, curled hair. "Are you sure you don't want me to call someone in to do it? We have plenty of time."

"No, Mum, we don't." Harlow replied, reaching for her bag and shoes, sitting down on the stool below the vanity. Dark red lipstick was reapplied with the sticky, glittering lipgloss over. "I'm half-convinced that the car is already waiting outside.. and we have to be there in an hour. Help me with my necklace?"

She held up the gold chain as Claudia hurried around, aiding her daughter for only a moment before rushing out of the room with the focus of getting herself ready to leave. And finally, Harlow was alone again, pushing rings onto her fingers and contorting her limbs in order to do up the clasp of her bracelet.

Shouts from her mother several floors below prompted Harlow to hurry up further, holding the heels by the straps as she rushed down flights of stairs, emerging out into the marble-floored Entrance Hall. After buckling the golden clasp on her shoes, Claudia was hurrying her out of the door and into the car waiting outside, which already seated her father.

"God, woman, you don't half take a bloody long time to get ready." Claudia aimed a swing of her handbag towards her husband as she climbed into the front seat, Jonathan dodging out of the way. "Harlow." He spoke. "Come sit in the front with me."

"Honestly Jonathan!" Her mother settled, pulling the door to a close beside her. "The poor girl doesn't need you wittering all the way to the event. She'll hear enough of it when we're there."

Claudia turned, manicured hand positioned against the black leather of the seat. Harlow had sat in the central seat, and pushed back into the material out of fear the woman would attempt to adjust her hair again. "Remember, darling, no more than three glasses of champagne tonight!"

"Oh that's fine." Harlow replied, fingers tapping against her bag. "I'll just have three more martinis and at least two margaritas and wash it all down with a cosmo."

"You will do no such thing." Jonathan banged his hand against the steering wheel as they pulled away from the house. It would be at least a forty minute drive, half an hour if the traffic decided to be nice to them and over an hour if not. Harlow smirked; hearing her father embark on another fuelled rant on her drinking abilities and habits would be far better background noise than whatever crap was playing on the radio.

They did have severely different tastes, after all.

Claudia tutted as she turned around in her seat, shaking her head and patting her husband's shoulder. "She's just winding you up sweetheart, aren't you, Harlow?" Her mother's emphasis only made their eldest daught fall silent.

"I don't see why you couldn't have brought Vere to this thing." Instead of reassuring her parents she wouldn't be the spectacle of the night (she wouldn't really, just liked to irritate them into a bubble of anger that could only be popped through forced handshakes and polite smiles to the guests that night), Harlow decided to only complain further.

"She's ten, Harlow."

The beep of her phone caused Claudia to be momentarily distracted. But that didn't stop her daughter. "And? They love little kids at shit like this." Harlow could remember it rather clearly. When she was ten, she was the only daughter and after a babysitter who had way too much fun with the girl and owned far too many bad habits, Claudia wouldn't allow her out of her sight.

And because of that, she had been glued to her parents' side as she was first introduced to society, listening to them joke about alcohol and talk to her in high-pitched tones that made her want to stamp on their toes. It was like they thought she didn't have any idea what was going on around her, that for some reason a ten year old didn't harbour a brain full of - admittedly - very judgemental thoughts and a wish to get the hell out of there.

"Harlow!" Claudia hissed. "Language! And I don't want to see you on your mobile during the event."

"Repeat it back darling." There was no tone of endearment within the tone, Jonathan not even bothering to glance his daughter's way. "No drinking, no swearing, no phone, or else you're going to America to finish university and we'll be rid of you."

Harlow rolled her eyes. "No drinking, no swearing, no phone, or else you're going to... what?" She paused. "Right.. the baseless threat."

"Not baseless anymore. Don't think we didn't hear about you turning up at that lecture completely drunk out of your mind." Very quickly, this car ride was turning into something of an intervention, and Harlow was quickly becoming more and more uncomfortable.

But fine.

"Fuck off. I'll go if you're wanting to shirk your duties at parents." Harlow grumbled. It was a shame, the dress was far too pretty to be ruined by a conversation like this. But she wasn't entirely against going across the Atlantic if she had to - she had grown bored, and there was the rest of the world for her to explore.

It was rare for her parents to care so much, but Harlow knew if she was to be shipped off to another country, the freedom she had already would only expand. There would be somewhat unlimited money, if her parents were planning on evading their need to actually care for their eldest child and push her off into the world with no plan set in place, then she would simply have fun.

"Don't frown, you'll get wrinkles." And with that, not a word of warning - or hardly any - towards her fate, Claudia turned back to face her husband, a gloved hand reaching across to stroke cheek, several fingers decorated by particularly large rocks. "We've already sent out applications, so don't you worry dear."

"Oh I won't." Harlow replied lightly, the rather intimate action turning sour as Jonathan and Claudia shared a glance. That could never mean anything good.

✧

It was colder than she had anticipated, and deciding that she had rather enough of her parents rules if they were redirecting her path of life (a decision which she would usually protest in an abject degree of vigour - because really, she was nineteen quickly approaching twenty; she was an adult now), Harlow had already had quite a lot to drink.

But the downside of frequenting parties and enjoying life as much as she had, her tolerance to alcohol had heightened immensely and didn't exactly do much for her anymore.

To be rather fair to herself and her tolerance, the event wasn't actually that bad. She appreciated the cause - it was a fundraiser for the RSPCA, meaning the guilty bastards that filled the high society of Britain were actually there for an appropriate reason.

As her father was such an important figure, the group of three had arrived in good time, and as soon as they stepped through the doors, she was whisked around on a circle of the room for introductions to possible candidates for marriage and their parents who had been company on many evenings before, and she had been engaged in several conversations with the elderly women friends with her mother, before she took her leave.

With a glass in her hand, Harlow began her mission to avoid as many more of her parents' friends as possible, whilst simultaneously admiring the function hall they had booked. It was really quite incredible, and several rooms had been booked. Filled with 18th century decor and furnishing, it was a perfect venue for the high society fundraiser, even if the blue of the various posters and stands promoting the cause clashed with the wooden panelling or patterned carpets.

Chandeliers hung from tall ceilings, Louis XV Gobelin tapestries either side of the fireplace, portraits painted of a variety of famed men of the country's history, from Henry VIII to the Duke of Wellington or Lord Nelson. Furniture was dotted around, placed almost systematically to allow the guests within to move around with ease and gather by a particular area if they wished to, combining to put together a sense of elegance, minimalism and historical comfort to the rooms.

Stopping by the doors into the Banquet Hall, which were closed off by four gleaming golden stands connected by garnet-coloured ropes, she could just about see, through a crack in the door, the caterers within preparing for the meal that would follow the process of coming into an event. There was no doubt in Harlow's mind that the table front and centre to the crowd would be taken up by her parents and their choice of guests - her mother always did this, and she had seen just how much pressure her wish to adjust the seating arrangement at plan had put on organisers.

Harlow couldn't help but wonder if it would be one of the more interesting suitors they put forward to her; it had the potential to be ever-so fun to quell their hopes of attempting to date her by the revelation of her moving to America for the new school year. She did recognise several of them from previous gatherings, as well as at school - and some poor fellows she didn't recognise at all. But it could be fun to play along for the night.

Behind the crack in the door, the end of a manned metal cart with trays upon trays of various ornate cutlery appeared, whichever worker that stood on the unseen end closing the gap and thus ending Harlow's enquiry to what seemed like the most elaborate room of them all, a sigh leaving her lips as the remnants of her champagne slid down her throat.

With no sight of a waiter in a neat black waistcoat carrying a tray of replacement glasses filled with the bubbly liquid, Harlow discarded her glass in the hands of the bewildered woman stood closest, slinking off into the next room to where the bar was.

"Vodka martini. One olive, heavy on the vodka?" Harlow smiled up at the bartender, eyes grazing over his badge. "Ben." She added, leaning against the surface and watching as the man's gaze travelled over her dress. "I'll make sure they tip you extra." She said, turning on her heel and swiping the small glass of what appeared to be scotch, the two glasses in her hands raised gleefully as she sped past her mother.

"Harlow!" Claudia hissed, attempting to be somewhat discreet about her disapproval but failing miserably, the rather loud noise causing a disturbance and drawing eyes to them. Mrs Harmsworth cleared her throat, shoulder drawing up.

"Mother?" Harlow turned. "Well, this is a surprise. Don't worry about this - it's for my new friend."

"Friend?" Claudia repeated. "What friend?"

"My love for anything with even a little burn in the throat. Dearest mum, wouldn't want to cause a scene, would we?" Harlow was out of there before Claudia could say anything further, slipping back into the room she had been heavily admiring minutes earlier.

Her heels dug slightly into the carpet, black hair tumbling down her back - thankfully yet to be caught up in the intricate chain detailing over her dress - as she made her way through, already having taken several sips of her drink and passing off the half-drunk glass of vodka to an unassuming waitress.

With any luck, she would have drunk up the courage to escape before dinner was ready to be served. But for now, there was a rather interesting portrait depicting some form of battle scene she could distract herself with.

"Uh-oh, pretty lady."

Behind her, a heavily accented voice seemed to be approaching and Harlow took another sip of her drink. Men from other countries were always so much more exciting.

"You've said that to the backs of about four women." Another voice - this time it was certainly an American, with a much more subtle hints of something European. "And four out of four times they've been over forty."

"I'll take the chances on making it at least 10% success rate." Australian. The first man was definitely Australian, and Harlow became a little more interested.

"I'll buy you a drink if  you get it." A third man was introduced to the fray, most definitely pure-bred American, and seemed a little familiar, as if she had been introduced to him before. Or perhaps not. Either way, Harlow was finally prompted to turn around and make sure her tispy self wasn't as self-centered as the thought.

Her heel dug into the plush woollen carpet, turning to see a blond and two brunettes, all in rather messy tuxedos staring at her. Harlow's eyes narrowed. "It's an open bar." She informed them.

A plethora of overly-dramatic sighs came from the group, the blond shaking his head. "Shame, then I wouldn't owe him. How much?" He asked, turning towards his friend.

"Hey, what did I say, pretty lady." The friend was wholeheartedly ignoring the blond now, stepping forward and slipping an arm around Harlow's waist, the metal no doubt cold against his skin. "Finn Morgan. I have an eye for the.. finer things in life."

"Does that include champagne and elderly women?" Harlow blinked, hand reaching up and pushing his cheek further away. "Harlow-"

"Harmsworth. Your dad seemed most happy I was here." The blond stepped forward, rescuing her from the confines of his friend's grip and centering her between the three of them. "I'm Logan Huntzberger."

"I know who you are. At least.. I've definitely heard of you. And maybe met you, if I remember correctly." Harlow replied, head tilted towards him as a kiss was pressed to your cheek. "And I think I've met you as well. Didn't happen to attend a boarding school in Switzerland when you were about.. thirteen, did you?"

"Colin McCrae. And I did. We've met." The third of the three boys introduced himself in a similar way to Logan, quickly kissing her cheek.

"I feel very left out here." Finn wandered around to the front of the group. "How come you've all met the pretty lady and I only have the fortune of doing so now."

"I think we have met. Once. At a party." Harlow's eyes flickered over his figure and clearly somewhat drunk demeanour. "Probably don't remember me."

"That's right." Logan nodded, before turning, smiling, to the girl beside him. "Better to keep him quiet and happy. You said you'd heard of me?"

"More of the reputation. It precedes you.. in the form of a yacht wreck off the coast of Fiji." Harlow's eyebrows raised, drinking the last of her drink. "Finn." She looked amused as the man turned towards her. "Olive?"

"Mmm!" Finn was more than up for it, coming to a stop in front of her and watching as she placed the olive between his lips, licking the remnants of the alcohol off her fingers.

"I feel like we just intruded on something deeply personal." Colin narrowed his eyes, watching as Finn chewed. "Well, you kept him happy."

"No, you intruded on me trying to send my mother to an early grave." Logan's arm wrapped around Harlow's waist, the comment on parents clearly piquing his interest. "And they're calling us for dinner now, so..." Harlow's hand found his and promptly pulled it away. "Sorry, blonds just aren't might type."

"Which makes you exactly mine." Finn replaced the touch with an arm slung around her shoulders, beginning to pull her towards the double doors that the Harmsworth had been trying to peer through some minutes before. "Come on Harlow, don't you think it's so exciting."

"Keep him happy and quiet, and there'll be no trouble." Colin's voice appeared in her ear. "And quite frankly, you look absolutely spiffing."

"Nobody says that anymore." Harlow rolled her eyes.

"Not even here?" Logan's expression turned from bemusement to something more, he cleared his throat, before sliding his arm besides hers. "Why, my good fellow-"

Harlow laughed, pulling herself away from their grasps and retrieving two flutes of champagne from a passing waitress. "Hilarious." She commented. "Awful accent by the way. Have a good evening."

And with that, she pushed the two glasses into a bewildered Logan and Finn's hands, and made a beeline for a newly deserted exit route.

✧

"Harlow Eleanor Harmsworth! You get out of that car right now!" Claudia's voice was shrill as she shouted after her daughter, tottering along on the heels that restricted her ability to walk far more than she anticipated. "Yes - that's right, stop it!"

There was a severe feeling of needing to run away - something which Harlow had plenty of practise of in such outfits - as she grit her teeth and pushed the door open, eyes flickering around to see only a couple people watching them.

Sure, there might be an expression on their faces which insinuated that they thought them to be crazy, but it wasn't too much of a scene, and therefore couldn't be heard from within the building.

Above them, the amber glow of a streetlamp shadowed Harlow's face as she stood on the curb, legs crossed and arms crossed over her chest. "Mum. I can leave if I want to. Usually you don't care." She shrugged.

"I can't believe it. Were you listening to me or your father at all earlier? This one is important, there are people to introduce you too. Besides, you're a university student now, you can't just run off like you're sixteen." Claudia brushed something quite obviously non-existent off of Harlow's shoulder as a ruse to adjust her dress. "Important people darling. Where were you even planning on going?"

"Out." Harlow replied. "To meet up with some friends."

"You look stressed dear, are you stressed?" Claudia was reaching forward for her daughter's cheek, pinching and pulling at the skin. "You look pale. Come on. You need food in your stomach. Luckily there is the perfect remedy for that just upstairs."

"But I don't want-"

There was no room for protesting, Claudia's lone hand waved the driver onwards, tugging her daughter back towards the door. "You can't get out of this darling." No matter whether there was a tone of sweetness in the final word it was forceful. "After all, you'll be going over to America come the end of the month."

Harlow allowed herself to be dragged to the Banquet Hall once again, coming to a stop in front of the doors. "Spend some time out at the country house - you're in no rush to get back because it's the summer and the flat you're in must be so lonely... those friends you were planning on meeting, invite them there."

"Sure, Mum.. I'll think about it." Another rolling of eyes followed and Harlow turned towards the open doors. "Let's get on with it then. I assume you're in the usual position."

She didn't even wait for an answer before making her way over to the front table, her dad already recognisable from quite a distance. Like predicted, it was a group of boys no doubt supposed to be potential suitors, and Jonathan was laughing and raising his glass to drink.

"Ah, here's the runaway. Harlow!" Jonathan waved her over. "It's a good job you didn't leave - there are some people I would like to meet. Here-"

"Shit." Harlow swore as the group turned.

"Well this is a surprise!" It was Logan, smirking up at Harlow with Finn and Colin either side of him. "Attending for my dad. Big newspaper guy across the pond, didn't you know?"

"Of course I know who Mitchum Huntzberger is." Harlow slumped down into the chair with her name card by the bowl of soup. "Dad, we've already met. Except Finn. I met Colin at boarding school, and I met Logan at one of these.. fundraisers. Finn I met today."

"Yes, yes." Jonathan waved her off, and Harlow doubted he had even heard what she said. "Logan here was just telling me about the start of his summer - a yacht in Fiji! Can you believe it."

"Yeah.. I can." Harlow nodded, sinking under the gaze of a grinning Logan and his equally triumphant friends. Jonathan was looking at her expectantly, gesturing for her to ask a follow up question. "So - er - Logan. How was Fiji and.. the yacht."

And as Jonathan listened to Logan reel off one of his stories that had been twisted and edited until it was suitable for parents ears, she felt an arm around her shoulders, a familiar sight leaning over to her right, as her mother sat down on her left.

Turning, she met Finn's eyes, which were very clearly travelling down the curve of her torso with a slight burning in them that she only recognised too well.

"So you're staying then?" He asked, looking up to meet her eyes.

"Yep." Harlow reached for her glass, sitting back in her seat as another person stood up to make a speech. "All for the bloody puppies and ponies."

"God, I love the English."

❛ AUTHORS NOTE ━━ hi! so, idk if this is explained elsewhere or obvious or what but this is set the summer before rory and logan meet. i made then sink the yacht a little early and as a result, logan and the group went to europe, and his dad forced him into attending the event because of the yacht.

so what do we think?

<3