Chapter 10: Castling Rights
The story of Donna's altercation with the paparazzi broke mid-afternoon on an ET News Flash that flooded Harvey's phone with endless notifications. A sensation of instant regret crawled beneath his skin as the multiple apps Benjamin installed all chirped and buzzed with different headlines, most of which painted her as a spoiled Hollywood princess, not a woman who'd been the victim of an assault.
She'd called him from the clinic, sounding unusually subdued as he'd listened to her retell how she was targeted by an overzealous journalist. He'd offered to go down there and pick her up, but she'd declined, insisting he should focus on damage control in case the footage leaked.
Doing exactly that, he hit send on the press release he'd prepared, forwarding it to her manager and publicist with a strict do not alter memo attached. If they messed with it, he'd sure their asses for defamation.
Picking up his phone again, his thumb hovered over the still of grainy footage. He needed to see for himself how bad the altercation had been, and with a deep breath he hit play.
The clip had been recorded from several paces away, capturing the moment some asshole laid a hand on her. Anger surged through his icy condemnation, which was momentarily calmed by a decent reporter who tried to intervene, but it flared up when Donna got caught in the subsequent brawl.
He watched her get hit in the face, right before the video cut to some blonde in a studio audaciously questioning whether the attack was provoked.
Anyone with goddamn eyes could see Donna wasn't to blame, but tag after tag spun the same bullshit — accusing her of trying to pervert the course of justice, with few sources caring that she'd been hurt.
Her fans were out in force defending her, but the double standards at play were outrageous. If Michael Jordan had been in the same situation, the news would have been circulating unwavering prejudice against Donna being an actress and a woman was ridiculous, and he felt a wave of shame for the judgment he'd cast before getting to know her better.
They'd circled around a turning point at the beach-house, an agreement to trust each other which benefited them both, and he had every intention of mapping out their next move when his screen lit up with a call from Mike.
"Tell me you have something," he snapped, refusing to entertain any more bad news.
"Yeah, some advice… Try putting your drama-queen client on a leash before she screws us all over."
He bristled at the harsh comment. Out of all the people throwing shade, he would've expected Mike to at least have some basic, human compassion.
"Donna wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for your client. So unless you've got something useful to contribute, you can keep your goddamn mouth shut and leave her to me."
With a tight fist, he waited for the inevitable disconnect, but the line stayed active, until Mike finally chose to move past the brewing argument.
"The kid in the video harassing Donna, he's not a reporter."
"What are you talking about?"
"His name is Ed Warrick. I recognized him from all the Atlas personnel files you sent over. He's an intern working there."
Son of a bitch. Harvey scrubbed his face, placing the meaning behind Mike's catch. Today's stunt was just another attempt by Atlas to intimidate her, except this time things had gotten physical.
"We need to go to the police."
"We do that, we may as well wave a red flag and post our strategy on a billboard in Times Square."
Mike was right.
If they went after Atlas for a minor assault, the company's lawyers would lock down any other wrongdoings like Fort Knox. They were relying on the element of surprise to get their smoking gun, but he couldn't idly sit by while the threat to Donna's safety escalated.
"Then what do you suggest? Because I can't lock her up in a tower for the next six weeks, and Atlas is going to keep gunning for a statement."
"You're wrong. After this, I think she'll be in less danger."
He scoffed sarcastly at Mike's lax attitude. "Well, that's great. I'm sure she'll find your thoughts very reassuring."
"Donna getting hurt was an accident, Harvey. The whole internet is divided, claiming the first assault was staged."
There was a push for him to read between the lines, but he didn't have time to play games.
"What's your point?"
"Atlas dodged a bullet this time. More coverage like this and they'll put themselves at too much risk of exposure."
After a careful moment of consideration, he decided it was a viable theory, but not one he was willing to bet Donna's safety on.
"You can't know that for sure."
"Then why don't we go find out… I have Ed's address, and judging by the douchebag's socials, the Upper East kid will roll over if we play a little good cop, bad cop."
His knuckles loosened with the tease of getting his hands a little dirty. The suggestion wasn't at all what he would've expected from the once straight-laced kid, but he had to admit, he was proud of the man's evolution. So intrigued, he leaned back in his chair haphazardly.
"Are you saying that sometimes the good guys need to do bad things to make the bad guys pay?"
"You know, a mentor of mine used to spin bullshit like that. Complete asshole, but he wasn't always wrong."
Harvey smirked. It was probably the closest to a compliment he'd ever get from the man, and he certainly wasn't going to return the favor. "Text me the address. I'll pick you up in an hour."
A new flood of bubbles were waiting as he ended the call, and he swiped them all away. The first thing on his list was getting Benjamin to delete everything the IT whiz had installed.
The truth waa going to come out, and when it did, he wouldn't read about it on his phone. He'd see it in the eyes of a judge exacting justice to the letter of the law.
.
.
.
The Marionette was far less pretentious than the Ludwig, an observation Harvey made as he rode up in the art deco cage elevator. There was a rustic charm to the old building, which was admittedly basic and didn't cater to the elite, but he'd made the recommendation to Donna because the hotel was robust and secure — a precaution he was starting to second-guess since meeting Eddie.
It had taken a substantial amount of restraint not to pummel the little shit right in the middle of the kid's ostentatious loft apartment, but putting the fear of God in the cowardly intern had gotten them straight-up answers. Eddie had been paid to follow Donna around, cause a scene, and bully her into speaking out against her father.
Mike was right about the assault being an accident, but he was no closer to finding out who'd been in her room or whether Atlas were actually going to back off, and he didn't like betting on uncertain odds.
Creaking metal and a tiny bounce of the car brought him to Donna's floor. He opened the cage, which made enough noise to wake the dead. She was safe here—for now—but he didn't know for how long, and he didn't share Mike's faith in Eddie as a star witness. The kid was a coward, and as far as he was concerned, would turn on a dime. The pair of them were just lucky he had deep pockets.
Reaching Donna's door, he let his fist fly loose, venting his pent-up adrenaline. He knew she was okay physically. Their text exchange had been going back and forth all afternoon about her socials, how they should handle everything, and her shit-for-brains manager who wanted to dress her up like a Barbie and make her pose in the ER of the Presbyterian.
Her life was a fucking circus, and he hadn't been able to shake his worry over her mental state, despite her seeming coherent throughout the day.
He wasn't sure he would have even blamed her if she'd opened the door strung out on Valium, but she was a picture of composure, and the only change he noticed was exhausted guilt swimming in her irises.
"I'm sorry, Harvey."
Her hands clasped around her waist as she breathed in shakily.
"I should have told you I was going to see him."
Her regret hammered through him, his focus shifting to the two adhesive stitches above her brow. The visit wasn't something she should be apologizing for. A conversation with her father had been inevitable, and touching base in private had been a smart move on her part. The problem wasn't her this time. It was people eviscerating her for being human.
"Forget about that." He nodded at her graze, relief sobering the concern that had chased him here. "How's the head?"
Surprise danced in her eyes, but it didn't linger, diluting with a soft chuckle and sigh. "Better than my day. The news didn't capture half of it."
He took that to mean things hadn't gone well with Jim, but the visit was neither here nor there in the grand scheme of things. Her personal relationship with her father wasn't anyone's business. He was just glad to find she'd coped with the day better than he'd expected — although that could all change once he caught her up on his conversation with Eddie.
Still, she had a right to know why she was being slandered in the media, and he nodded behind her, looking to move the conversation somewhere private.
"Can I come in?"
A flicker of hesitation sparked in her gaze, but she opened the door wider, and he stepped inside the one-bedroom apartment, accepting the wary invitation.
Compared to her suite at The Ludwig, the small studio was quaint, although some would probably deem it depressing. But the rattling bolt and chain behind him was insurance against anyone unwanted getting in.
Unbuttoning his jacket, he crossed over to the wood-veneer dinner table next to the bed. The room lacked space and vibrancy, but diligence had been taken with the furniture and furnishings. It wasn't a hovel — more like a guest room in a middle-class brownstone on the Upper East Side.
To Donna's credit, she didn't seem bothered by the downgrade. She got comfortable in the middle of the double mattress, crossing her legs as he took a seat.
"What did you find out?"
Her perceptiveness was eagle-eyed, and he saw no point deflecting, so he came right out with the truth.
"The guy who harassed you isn't a reporter. He's an intern at Atlas. He was paid off to give you a hard time."
She was silent as she pulled her knees up, processing the information, and he understood why the revelation rattled her, but he leant into Mike's theory that there was a silver lining.
"You weren't supposed to get hurt. That was an accident."
Her hard stare was incredulous, and he couldn't blame the defensive reaction.
"Atlas has my dad's address on file. I didn't tell anyone I was going there, Harvey. That means they were watching his house."
He'd already pieced together that it was Atlas who'd tipped the real press off, and he tapped the tabletop with a sigh. Her father was the public scapegoat and not in any real danger. But his doubts about her staying at the Marionette continued to grow as her unease swept over him.
"Jim will be fine, but I think you should consider staying at the beach house. Just as a precaution until a trial date is set."
"No. Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
The question made Donna self-conscious of the fear reignited by Harvey's information and tepid concern. They'd agreed she needed to control the narrative of her socials, which meant she couldn't just go off-grid again, and if Atlas or anyone else tracked her to the isolated beach house, she'd be there alone and miles from help.
"It's not just the press I have to worry about. There are fans out there crazy enough to invade my privacy as well, and the beach house only has a basic alarm system."
He considered the valid point, his knuckles clenching at the thought of some perverted kid like Eddie thinking it would be a fun game to get an eyeful. That alone made him scrap the idea altogether.
"A security detail then. You can stay in the city, go about like normal. I'm sure you've used them in L.A."
It was an option, but not one that Donna was enthusiastic about. Back home, she'd relied on protection from the studio's firm or general security at events. She wasn't so famous that she'd needed a constant shadow, and here in Manhattan she didn't know who she could trust. Atlas had infiltrated and manipulated the paparazzi. If they wanted to get closer to her, a security detail would be the perfect opportunity.
"I'm not going to put my life in the hands of someone else who can be paid off."
Tugging a hand through her hair, she gazed out the window, comforted by the decorative grilles which were in place to stop people breaking in. It didn't matter that the room was tiny, she felt safe inside, and if staying locked in was the solution, then she'd weather it the best she could.
"I'll keep a low profile. I can run damage control from here. And any press engagements, I'll RSVP with late notice and keep them short."
Harvey noticed the way her hand roughly kneaded her shoulder, the way it had at the beach house after their fight. It didn't take a genius to figure out she was stressed and she had every right to be. A stranger on the street had grabbed her, then she'd been assaulted, and to top it all off she was facing spending the next few weeks isolating herself in a room that wasn't much bigger than his ensuite.
He'd told Mike that wasn't an option, and an easy alternative niggled at him. There was plenty of space at his condo. He had a private elevator which would lower the chances of her being seen when she did go out, and some months ago a kid had babbled at his door about enhanced internet security.
It was a compromise, but logic quickly went to war with his impulsiveness, his hesitation anchored by how unprofessional the offer would be.
Mixing business and pleasure was a soft no. Crossing business with the intimacy of his personal life was a hard no-way-in-hell, should-never-happen. And yet, the air of defeat ebbing off her was so palpable it wrapped around his sanity.
She wasn't the spoiled princess the press were painting her as, she was suffering. And the move would actually be a tactical play — nothing to do with his gaze involuntarily lingering on the cut above her eye.
"Come and stay with me."
The amber flecks in her eyes swirled almost green with amusement like she was answering a joke.
"That would be a mistake and you know it."
"Meeting you was a mistake."
He hid the flippancy behind a tentatively charismatic smile. Before her his job had been to bluff and win big, but around her, he didn't hate feeling good about doing the right thing.
"My guest room is the size of this place, I've got a private pool, and I'm never home," he shrugged. "Too many damsels out there to save."
Her wobbly smile showed resilience, and she drew a firm line with her stubbornness.
"Thanks, but I don't need a swashbuckling pirate to come to my rescue. I'll be fine."
"Fair enough."
He'd played his hand, and he stood up buttoning his jacket, but his niggle was persistent.
How long until she succumbed to all the pressure? Or before Atlas took things a step further? He had a solution, one that could benefit them both — all he had to do was get her to agree.
"Think about it. I have a private pool… Call me if you change your mind."
He left with a bloated air of confidence, but it wasn't until he got outside that his ego staggered. He'd just invited her into his home, and worst of all, he wouldn't take the offer back even if he could.
AN: Asking for reviews or comments because I'm struggling to stick with this story. There is the potential for it to get more interesting, but there's also canon, zombies, vampires or whump!