Harvey Specter Apartment Suits Novels & Stories

Harper Ross It’s official, I hate Liam Specter, but it’s also official how much he stuns me. When I felt his body clash against mine, my posture simply fell apart and for a few seconds I was enveloped by the intoxicating scent he exhaled. The man is beautiful, great, an enormous thing. And above all, smelly, devilishly fragrant. But he is nothing but an arrogant, snobbish and unscrupulous. "Harp, a hundred thousand would change your life" says Noah, taking me out of my disturbing thoughts as I watch the arrogant car coming out of my store door.

The law offices of Hartley, Davidson & Associates occupied three floors of a glass tower in Midtown, the kind of place where billable hours started at four figures and the coffee cost more than most people's lunch. Sophia felt underdressed in her best interview suit a black blazer and pencil skirt she'd bought at an outlet store two years ago. Ethan's lawyer, James Hartley, was exactly what she'd expected: silver-haired, expensively suited, with the kind of smile that cost extra. He spread the contract across a mahogany conference table that could have doubled as a landing strip.

Lethal. The door of the central vehicle opens. Harvey steps out with the precision of someone who rehearsed the entrance. Impeccable navy-blue suit, leather shoes that cost more than most people’s monthly salary. He carries no umbrella despite the fine rain. He doesn’t need one—the Irish rain wouldn’t dare wet Harvey Prescott without prior permission.

If anyone would enjoy ruining Harvey, it has to be him: Warren Fletcher. Harvey's long-time rival, practically his archenemy. A man who had made his interest in me publicly known several times even when he knew I was married to his rival and I never talked to him, mainly because Harvey hates him. With my destination in mind, I boarded a cab and headed to Fletcher's Law and Justice. It was a thirty-minute ride and I arrived before the firm. The firm was a gigantic skyscraper, it stood tall and wide. I walked into the wide circular driveway, the plaza enormous, bordered by trimmed edges, modern sculptures, and employees in suits bustling past.

Harvey was there with us as well. Unlike the times before when he dressed very much like Hayden and gave off a very familiar vibe, Harvey looked and felt very different from Hayden today. The two brothers stood side by side one dressed in an all-white suit while the other was in a burgundy suit. “Shall we?” Harvey asked with a sadistic grin. I felt a shiver run through the entire length of my spine. Hayden seemed quite relaxed when he nodded his head a little. The boss must be expecting us. However, he wasn’t expecting Harvey.

Did it really take that long to search one unit? I shot Jacob another text. "How long were they at your place just now?" He replied, "About… ten minutes." I kept counting the minutes, eyes on the thread. And then it hit me. No, this wasn't Jacob. I swiped up through my thread with Jacob. He never used ellipses, yet the last two messages did. If it wasn't Jacob texting, who was? Across the hall, the door to apartment 603 opened. The officer stepped out, turned to the resident, and said, "Thank you for your cooperation."

That night, after signing the marriage license, Harper hailed a night cab and took Brenda to his apartment. This was one of his few getaway spots and he figured she would be too drunk to remember her home address, so he took her there instead. It was a luxurious penthouse suite located in the heart of the city and cost seven million dollars When they arrived at the apartment, Brenda's knees gave out but Harper caught her before she fell, and carried her to the master bedroom. Before Brenda could properly take in the penthouse layout, Harper turned to leave, but she quickly held his hand and mumbled weakly

​New York. Xavier's Penthouse. Thursday. 11:47 AM ​Xavier was already deep into a call with Nadia before Scarlett had even finished her second round of logistics. The penthouse had shifted from a residence into a tactical assembly floor. Margot had somehow manifested a fourth monitor—a tablet propped precariously against the backsplash—running the Apex-7 documentation in a scrolling waterfall of data that sat parallel to the seventeen-name verification and the grand jury procedural requirements she’d been researching for the last hour in a silent, caffeinated fury.

Within ten minutes, Maison managed to find out the name of the man Victoria was having dinner with, and he was a lawyer who worked at the Spector and Mitz Law Firm, and was one of the firm's partners, Harvey Spector. Jackson had a name on his face now. He knew the man, as Harvey was famous in legal circles for being an extremely competent lawyer, but he was just a lawyer who made a lot of money, and Jackson was confident that he could make Victoria give in to him eventually. Now... he was going to pay Lara and Enzo a visit.

The boardroom of Vane Holdings felt like a pressurized chamber. Twelve men in charcoal-grey suits sat frozen, their eyes darting between the disheveled, panting Harold Vane and the preternaturally calm woman sitting at the foot of their mahogany altar. The silence was so heavy it was deafening, broken only by the distant, rhythmic hum of the city fifty stories below.