7. Always

The upper level of S&P is void of its usual sea of people with the exception of a few employees still scattered around, finishing up for the evening. It's not late, but in the months Donna's been working at the company she's noticed the majority of teams all clock-off at a reasonable hour. Her former job often consisted of pulling all-nighters. The deadlines were more stringent and the drama frequently endless—something she doesn't miss, but habit usually keeps her in the building until it's just her in the office.

She likes the extra time to work uninterrupted which is why, when she strides across the carpet, she tries to push back the irritation seated in her expression. It's not the meeting itself that bothers her, it's that the appointment was originally scheduled during the morning at Collin's request, but he'd kept rescheduling, insisting he was busy. She's been trying all day to accommodate him, shifting around everything else, including the induced headache from her and Harvey's spontaneous trip down memory lane the previous night. Despite her reservations she'd eventually managed to relax and enjoy the evening, but her body doesn't bounce back from drinking like it used to, the dryness in her throat itching as she enters the unoccupied meeting room.

She pours herself a water from the cooler and makes herself comfortable in the nearest chair, glancing at her watch and tapping her foot idly until she feels a rush of air that sends an involuntary shiver down her spine.

Collin breezes in, taking a seat opposite her, sliding her bright blue proposal back across the table. He doesn't apologize or look the slightest bit remorseful for having dicked her around all day, but she swallows the quip riding the tip of her tongue. It's not worth creating friction over, and she picks up the bound document, flipping through and raising an eyebrow at the pages highlighted and marked with notes. "I'm impressed."

She mirrors his patronizing tone from their last conversation, which irritates him as much as it feeds his curiosity. She's obviously cooled down since her little tantrum, making him more convinced the entire show was just for his benefit, but he's growing bored of being teased by her, and quite frankly, the dance they've been doing is losing its charm. "I'm glad," he comments flatly, his gaze remaining fixed on her. "Nothing wrong with a woman getting some satisfaction, too."

She purses her lips, lifting her nose up from the actual work he's put in. His eyes are hooded, still piercing through her but she doesn't waver. So long as she's getting what she needs to do her job, he can throw out all the innuendo that he wants—she has no intention of engaging it. "Is there anything specific you wanted to discuss before I adapt the suggestions?"

He raises his palm from the table, skimming it over the line of his jaw. "I trust you know what you're doing." He has no interest in going over his corrections to the proposal. He'd made them with two clear goals in mind, and neither one of them was to sit laboring over a discussion. What he wants is to see her passion driving her to submit, her attitude bending under his authority, and he pushes himself up using a slow gait to pave his intentions.

She trails the movement, her expression firm as he fills her personal space resting his ass against the edge of the desk and folding his arms. "There are clearly a lot of adjustments that need to be made." He's candid with his words, setting out to knock her down a peg. "Question is, how badly do you want to impress the right people?" He leans over, his gaze travelling down to the apex of her thighs, slowly dragging it back up with a wry smirk. "Because I think we can negotiate a way to have you come out on top."

The scent of his cologne chokes her senses and she wants to recoil from the strong smell, her stomach turning at his close proximity. It's clear why he'd shown an interest in her proposal. Because he's using it as blackmail, trying to manipulate her into doing what he wants and failing that, so he can make it look like any complaint she makes is a result of her being unwilling to compromise.

Exactly the behaviour she'd expected from him which is why she doesn't flinch.

She'd made damn sure Ted Pullman knows who she is, through her reputation with the other directors and by her own means. "Would that be recognition from daddy dearest? Because for a silent partner he's awfully chatty when we're on the phone, and between you and me, he seems pretty impressed by how I've been performing."

His nostrils flare as she stands up, coming short of his towering height. He doesn't know who the fuck she thinks she is, daring to mention his relationship with his father, but he's done playing her games. He's not about to let himself be threatened and snakes his hand around her wrist biting hard into her skin. "You're starting to piss me off."

His grip doesn't relent and her heart thunders in her chest as she flinches at the switch from suave to aggressive. It wasn't something she was prepared for, but she firms her glare reacting impulsively. "What's wrong, did I hit a nerve?"

The defiance rushes through him, the feel of her beneath his fingers shooting heat straight to his groin. She can pretend all she wants but they both know who's in control, and he squeezes more tightly, pressing his lips hard and fast against her ear. "Not yet, but you're fucking about to."

The assault of his breath charges her instincts and she brings her knee up jamming it between his legs, swallowing a whimper as he doubles over and the circulation returns to her throbbing wrist. She can feel herself shaking but reaches to swipe her proposal off the desk, forcing her anger past the lump wedged in her throat. "Go to hell, asshole."

There's no one left on the floor as she storms out—trapped in a limbo of panic and deadly calm as adrenaline urges her to get away from him. She doesn't trust what she's feeling but steers a clear path to the safety of her level where there are still a couple of people milling around. She moves through them toward her office, caught off guard when she hears the concerned voice of her assistant ring out.

She hadn't even thought about Zoey still being at her desk and freezes, drawing on whatever strength she can to reassure the woman everything is fine. "It's late Zoey, you should go home."

It's not late and Zoey doesn't buy the diversion for a second. She's been fielding Collin's arrogance all day, having to inform Donna every time he rang up to reschedule their meeting. She'd sensed there was a tug-of-war going on and had done as instructed despite her instincts, but right now she can't ignore them. "What happened?"

"Nothing I can't handle," Donna assures, flattening her palm over the petition to stop the slight tremble coursing through her. If there's one thing she's learnt from spending time around lawyers, it's not to involve anyone else in a situation until she's sure of herself first "I'll see you tomorrow."

She forces a smile backing away from the cubicle, knowing Zoey will take the hint whether her assistant feels it's the right thing to do or not, and she's reminded of all the times she'd had to accept Harvey's word just because he was her boss—but this isn't the same thing.

Aside from Collin's insinuating actions and the dull throb ebbing at her wrist, nothing actually happened. She'd stopped things before they'd escalated but the thought they might have makes her reach for her phone the second she steps into her office.

Zoey might not be the right outlet but she needs a plan of action, legal advice, and her first instinct is to call Rachel but she falters, hovering over the name in her contacts, her pulse rushing between her ears. A consoling voice isn't going to help. She wants to make the son of a bitch get what's coming to him, and she scrolls down to Harvey's number knowing he'd do anything she asked without pushing her for answers. He doesn't do the comfort thing. That's why she shoots off a text, leaning back against her desk—and nearly jumping out of her skin at his instant reply, that he's still at work and she should stop by.

She hesitates but ultimately decides it's better than any alternative, and she gathers her things together, desperate to be anywhere else.

…

She uses the short cab ride across town to steel her nerves.

Nothing happened

She's fine.

It's a mantra she plays over in her head as she arrives at the firm, feelings of nostalgia threatening her composure, but she forces down the emotion as she passes through security, subconsciously tugging at her sleeve to cover the bruise she can feel forming.

Harvey doesn't need all the details.

She's a senior member of staff at S&P seeking out his help for already lodged complaints. No matter how familiar it all is, her feelings don't detract from the fact it's still a law firm. Meeting with Harvey falls within the realms of her new role and she treads the strip of carpet to his office, finding him sat with his nose buried in work.

She knocks quietly against the open glass, cautious of pulling him away from what he's doing, worried it might be important.

He stops what he's doing and glances up, his gaze quickly washing over her.

He'd been worried by the ambiguous text she'd sent. Something was off yesterday and to have her reach out suddenly for legal advice doesn't sit well, but he keeps from jumping to conclusions.

"Hey."

She takes a breath willing herself to relax. "Now a good time?"

It wouldn't matter if it wasn't. All she'd ever have to do is ask and he'd drop everything, but he nods for the sake of it, abandoning what he's doing. "Should I pour us a drink?" She looks like she could use one and the way her eyes flutter, almost in relief, urges him to stand up.

"Please," she insists, carefully peeling out of her coat. She folds it over the back of the nearest chair, shrugging her arms across her chest as she takes a seat on the sofa, waiting for him to bring over the tray housing his alcohol. When a tumbler lands on the coaster in front of her, she picks it up, gulping down a large sip that burns her throat.

He drops down into his usual space but nothing about the circumstances feel like tradition. She's not looking at him, her gaze fixed ahead like she's deliberating what to say, and he encourages her with a gentle prod. "Donna, what's going on?"

She can feel his concern boring into her, and part of her wants to break it down and tell him everything, justify the dread still knotted in her chest, but she's afraid he won't be objective if he has the whole truth. She needs him to win this, and starts with a basic version of the situation. "I want to file a class action suit against one of the director's at S&P. He's had multiple complaints filed against him already, but they've all been ignored because his father is a silent partner at the company."

The last few words are dipped with anger, and he takes in her rigid posture, his unease balling up tighter. "What kind of complaints?"

"Sexual harassment," she doesn't flinch and gives him no time to delve into any connections. "There are at least a dozen—"

"Stop." The warning pushes out of his mouth, harsher than he meant it, but he's not a goddamn idiot. She didn't mention anything about this yesterday, and if there are instances already on file, it's not a new problem. Something made her react, and he braces himself, watching her like a hawk. "What happened?"

Her heart stutters, having misjudged how fast his concern would rear itself, but it isn't just about her, and she quickly shakes her head. "Nothing."

"Bullshit," he calls her on the lie, ringing his hands together. If he had any doubts before, the way she reaches for her drink, deliberately avoiding his gaze, confirms there's something wrong. And he's almost too afraid to ask, a sickly feeling winding up the back of his throat, but he needs to know right goddamn now if that asshole did anything to hurt her. "Donna, if you want my help then I need all the facts, you know that."

The comment verges on a threat, like if she doesn't recount every detail of her experience all the other women she's trying to protect will suffer for it, and maybe she was wrong to come to him. Nobody else would be arrogant enough to issue her an ultimatum and she abandons the tumbler of whiskey, her fingertips flattening against the leather below her. "This was a mistake."

His brow furrows as she stands up but he instinctively does the same, a frown turning his mouth as she edges around the table. "Donna—"

"Forget I said anything." Heat flushes the back of her neck as she moves toward her coat, expecting him to stay where he is, but he doesn't. She can feel him behind her and she's even more desperate to put space between them, grabbing her things from the chair.

He reaches out to keep her from leaving, his hand closing around her wrist with a gentle tug. "Hey—" A painful whimper punctures the air and he lets go so fast he nearly stumbles backwards.

She withdraws her arm watching his face flood with regret and she stills with frustration, counting all the times she'd willed him to step in and stop her from walking away. It isn't what she wants, not anymore, but the worst case scenarios burning in his gaze keep her feet planted to the ground. "He grabbed me, that's all."

His mind reels with the confirmation something happened and he doesn't dare reach for her again but he needs to see for himself—judge on his own terms if she's telling him the full truth or there's more she's hiding. "Show me."

"It's not—"

"Donna," he stops her, a serious note curbing the softness in his voice "Please."

It's only a bruise but his eyes don't leave hers and she breaks first, dipping her focus to the sleeve of her dress and unbuttoning the fabric.

She rolls it up revealing a purple mottled mark and he swallows roughly. The son of a bitch had handled her hard enough to hurt and whatever intention there was behind the attack makes his stomach lurch into his throat.

"Then what happened?"

She quickly covers her wrist, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly. "I left him questioning if he'll be able to have kids."

He blinks at her, the reassurance she's fine taking longer to settle than it should. She shouldn't have goddamn needed to defend herself and he spins on his heel, raking a hand up through his hair as he paces, relieved nothing else had happened but annoyed she'd been planning to keep the truth from him.

He's been trying his hardest to navigate whatever the hell is happening between them, but he can't be half-way involved in her life. Not with something like this. He knows she can handle herself but he also knows there are men out there who won't take no for an answer, and he turns back to her, reading everything for the first time again; the tension radiating off her, the lack of color in her cheeks and how she's holding herself—like there's a danger lurking she can't see.

He's not having it.

Tonight he needs the barrier gone, for himself, for her, and he takes three strides, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and palming her back, for no other reason than he can. Because she's here, and no matter what she was planning on telling him—or wasn't—her instincts trusted he'd keep her safe, and he will. Always.

She isn't sure what to do, trapped by his muscles surrounding her, but his warmth seeps into her body and she slides her hands up over his ribs, gripping the thin material of his shirt. She didn't want to admit to herself, let alone Harvey, that what happened with Collin had shaken her but the light throb in her wrist leads her to sink into the hug, allowing her heart to catch up with her head. She's still not convinced involving Harvey was the right move, but she can't deny it feels good to have him in her corner.

A sigh collapses from his lungs as he finally pulls back, his fingers staying pressed against her arms not ready to sever the contact between them. "You sure you're okay?"

She nods, clearing the emotion caught in her throat. "Yeah."

She is, or will be, just as soon as they can come up with a game plan. Because she doubts Collin is simply going to roll over and take what happened in his stride. She needs to be on the offensive, and she guides Harvey's hands down, steering them to safer ground. Friends isn't such a far stretch anymore but they still have to keep boundaries, and she forces a small smile onto her lips. "I'm fine but I need him to be held accountable. This isn't just about me, Harvey."

To him it is, but he tapers back the notion to do what she's asking—treat it like any normal case, not rush in with a personal vendetta. Which means he has to have all the facts, and he motions to the dimly lit corner where their drinks are still sat. "I'll order us something to eat, you can walk me through everything that's been going on, deal?"

Her face flickers with hesitation at the suggestion, and he gets it. Food is probably the last thing he can stomach either but whiskey will only do so much to fuel her stubbornness and he's not about to send her home alone to an empty apartment. "That's my fee."

She can hear the determination behind the note of humor and relaxes her shoulders with a smirk. "Thai?"

He rolls his eyes but pulls out his phone to make the call, skimming a text from Paula that pops up saying she'll be back in the city later tonight. The information still gives him plenty of time to be where he's needed and he brings the device to his ear, his gaze trailing Donna's movement as she sinks into the couch and he places their usual order. He takes her in while he's speaking, forcing himself not to get lost in all the 'what ifs' rolling through his head as he watches her.

She's here—safe—and he's making it his responsibility to ensure nothing like what she went through tonight ever happens again.