Chapter 2
Chapter Two
H arlow relished the cool night air on her heated skin. She needed some distance from Easton and his sexy car.
Damn, it sucked having a hot boss.
She hurried toward her apartment building. It wasn’t fancy, but the place was an open plan, with wooden floors, and a pocket-sized balcony where she loved to drink her morning tea.
With her head down, she wondered if Easton’s hands were flexing on the wheel of his sleek Aston.
Dammit , she wasn’t supposed to be thinking about him, or his hands.
Ahead of her, a shadow moved and Harlow jerked to a stop.
The shape of a large man detached from the darkness, powering right toward her.
She’d barely drawn in a breath before the man grabbed her arms.
“Hey!” she cried.
His fingers dug in painfully. He wore black clothes, with a knit cap pulled down low over his head. She got the impression of rough features.
“You’re coming with me,” he growled.
What? Her heart thundered.
“No!” she yanked backward, her coat falling open.
“Daddy’s fucked, and so are you.”
The man lunged forward and grabbed the neckline of her dress.
As Harlow struggled, she heard fabric tear. The man’s elbow cracked into her cheekbone. Ow .
Then suddenly, a second dark shadow lunged past Harlow, and slammed a fist into her attacker’s face.
She smelled Easton a beat before she recognized him.
Her attacker grunted, then violently shoved her away. She flew back and hit Easton’s hard body. His arms closed around her.
“Harlow?” His voice was a deep growl in her ear. “You okay?”
She swallowed, trying to clear the panic from her head. “I think so.”
Her attacker ran and she felt Easton’s arms flex.
“You want to chase him,” she whispered.
“I’m not leaving you.”
Thank God . She swallowed. “I—” Her legs gave out, turning to Jell-O.
Easton swept her into his arms like she wasn’t five foot eight and curvy with it.
He strode to the front of her building. “I’ve got you.”
Trembling started. Dammit .
“Keys?” he said.
She had them in her hand and lifted them.
He took them and opened the door. As he strode inside, he headed straight for the elevator, and Harlow leaned into his warmth to try to get a grip on the residual fear thrumming through her.
“Fourth floor,” she murmured as they entered the elevator.
Moments later, they stopped and Easton maneuvered her down the hall. He stopped at her door and opened it.
Inside, he hit the light switch, then set her down on her gray couch.
The apartment was very white, except for the blonde wood floors.
She’d spent time adding her stamp on the place.
A colorful rug in a swirl of jewel tones covered the floor, and she’d added a ton of matching throw pillows on the couch.
A funky, metal mirror rested on one wall, while a gorgeous, black-and-white print of the Eiffel Tower hung above the couch.
Easton strode to her kitchen and she heard water running. He returned and held out a glass.
“Here.”
She sipped the water. As he sat beside her, the couch dipped.
She felt the weight of his gaze on her. Then she looked down and her muscles froze.
The asshole had ripped her dress. The neckline gaped open, and she was currently giving her boss a perfect view of her favorite red bra. It was made of gossamer-like lace, so her nipple was front and center.
Before she could move, he reached out and flicked her coat over her chest.
“Thanks.” She drained the water and set the glass on the coffee table. Her hands were shaking.
“You know that guy?”
“What?” She looked up. “No. I figure he was just a garden-variety, asshole mugger, right?”
But tension snuck in like a thief. Daddy’s fucked, and so are you.
She shivered. She had no idea what that meant. It had to be just some criminal’s ramblings. It had to. She really wanted it to be that.
Easton’s far-too-perceptive gaze zeroed in on her face. “You sure?”
She tossed her tumbled hair back. “Yes. I’m okay.”
He reached out and nudged her coat aside a little. “The bastard hurt you. You’ve got bruises forming on your shoulder already.”
“I bruise easily.” She touched her cheekbone where he’d elbowed her and knew she’d probably get another one there.
As Easton’s fingers brushed her skin, she sucked in a breath. Her skin tingled.
“I really am okay,” she said quietly. “Thanks to you.”
He touched her chin.
“This is your chance to say I told you so,” she added.
“I told you so.” There was no heat in his words. “You should report this to the police.”
“What are they going to do? He didn’t take anything, and I didn’t really get a good look at his face.”
Easton’s jaw worked. “I know you’re not telling me the entire truth.”
“I am.”
“You aren’t. I will find out what’s going on with you.”
She rose. Her knees were wobbly, but she locked them. “I’ll be fine. You should go now. Go home and do more work, or sip expensive cognac, whatever it is you rich men do.”
He shook his head, his lips quirking. The man had yummy lips—the bottom one full, sensual.
“This isn’t over.”
Crap . Harlow hurried to the door. “Thanks again, Easton.”
“You sure you’re okay alone?” He stopped in the doorway.
“Yes. As soon as you’re out of here, I’m triple locking this door.”
He eyed her. She made herself meet that strong gaze.
His fingers brushed her jaw line. “Tough. Sleep well, Harlow.”
He sauntered out and she forced herself not to watch him go. The man had this way of walking that captured every female gaze in the vicinity. She closed the door and locked it, then leaned her back against the wood and squeezed her eyes closed.
Then she pushed away, her anxiety ratcheting back up. She snatched up her phone. It was later than she’d normally call her parents, but she had to check if her dad was okay. And find out what the hell was going on.
The call went straight to her dad’s voicemail.
Harlow sighed. “Dad, call me as soon as you get this.” She dropped onto a stool at her high kitchen counter. “A man tried to snatch me off the street tonight. I’m okay… But he said something. Dad, I think it has something to do with you. Call me.”
She ended the call and worry nipped her like little bugs all over her skin.
Harlow decided she needed a hot shower, maybe a glass of wine, or a day at the spa, or a vacation in Tahiti. She could still feel Easton’s touch on her jaw.
Easton Norcross wasn’t a man who gave up easily. He’d keep pushing her to find out what was wrong.
She just wished she knew.
After a scalding-hot shower, Harlow pulled on her favorite, oversized T-shirt and fluffy, gray socks. One had a hole in the toe, but they were so soft and comfy.
She climbed into bed, thinking that worry for her dad would keep her awake.
Instead, it was thoughts of Easton’s sexy tattoos that danced in her brain.
How many did he have? And how much of that hard body did they cover? She groaned.
Boss. Boss. Boss.
“He’s your boss, Harlow Maree Carlson. Totally one-hundred-percent off-limits.” She pulled her pillow over her head and willed herself to get to sleep.
* * *
Sun blared into her face.
With a groan, Harlow rolled over in bed. She’d forgotten to close the curtains last night. She flopped onto her back.
She’d had a rough night. Not because of her attack, no, she was blaming it solely on Easton Norcross.
Her demanding boss was even taking over her dreams, damn him.
She shifted on the sheets. She’d woken twice in the night, both times hot and flushed, picturing those strong hands on her skin.
In one, his sexy car had featured too, with Easton spreading her out on the hood.
Heat pooled between her legs. She sat up, pushing her hair back.
A cold shower was the first order of the day.
Her phone beeped. It had to be her dad. She lunged for the bedside table.
She was wrong. It was a text message from a contact she’d saved as Tyrant.
Did you sleep well?
Speak of the devil. She tapped her phone.
No.
Are you okay?
Fine. Still waking up. Unlike certain workaholics, I don’t get up to make millions before breakfast.
I worked out as well.
You need help.
Harlow wrinkled her nose. Her workouts involved the odd Pilates class when her friend, Christie, dragged her to one, or power walking to the coffee shop for a latte.
Do you need a day off?
She gasped and typed furiously.
No.
Sure?
She wasn’t sure she could deal with a considerate Easton Norcross.
Yes. Stop being nice.
Okay. See you in the office, Ms. Carlson.
Don’t mess up my desk before I get in.
She showered—she only managed lukewarm, because despite the hum of inappropriate desire, she couldn’t do a cold shower.
She had a few finger-shaped bruises on her shoulder, and a faint smudge along her cheekbone.
Thankfully, that could be hidden with makeup.
She moved her arm and felt a twinge. She might pop some Advil as well.
She dressed in a fitted, black skirt and a sensible white shirt before she blow-dried her hair. She pulled it back into a sleek ponytail.
Her phone beeped again.
She shook her head. No doubt Easton couldn’t find something.
She glanced at the phone and her stomach clenched. It was a message from her father.
Meet me for breakfast. Sweet Maple.
Damn . Harlow pressed a hand to her cheek. He hadn’t even asked her if she was okay. What the hell are you mixed up in, Dad?
She shot off a quick text to Easton.
Change of plans. I’ll be a little late.
Then she grabbed her bag and dashed out the door. Her phone beeped as she entered the elevator, but she ignored it.
A few minutes after eight, she walked into her favorite neighborhood breakfast place, the laid-back Sweet Maple. They did the best French toast. It took a second to spot her father. He sat alone at a table, nursing a coffee mug. He was staring out the window.
Her heart clenched. Her normally well-dressed, well-groomed father looked disheveled. He wore a creased suit, and his hair looked like he’d run his hands through it a hundred times.
“Dad?”
His head jerked up, and he shot to his feet. He had dark circles under his eyes.
“Princess.” He pulled her close and hugged her. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Luckily, my boss dropped me off last night and scared the guy away.”
Charles Carlson bobbed his head and sat. He toyed with his mug nervously.
Harlow dropped into a chair. “Dad, what is going on? You left a message saying you’re in trouble, then you avoid me, now this man saying—” Harlow couldn’t swear to her dad “—you’re screwed, and so am I.”
Her dad drew in a choppy breath. He looked so tired. “I’m so sorry, Princess.”
Not tired. Dejected.
She pressed her hand over his. “Talk to me, Dad. Let me help.”
The air shuddered out of him. “It started last year. I had a real estate deal go bad.”
Okay. That didn’t sound so terrible. Her dad unfortunately had deals not work out before.
“Then another business deal fell through. I…” He shook his head. “I lost a lot of money.”
“I understand. It happens.”
Weary, worried eyes met hers. “ A lot of money, Harlow. I was going to lose the house.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. Her mother loved that house in Presidio Heights. Harlow and Scarlett had grown up in the large, light-filled home.
“But then I met an investor. I made some new deals.”
“Dad?” She didn’t like the tone of his voice.
“He’s not a great guy. The deal wasn’t what I’d hoped. I kept trying to find a way out.” Desperation soaked his voice. “I just needed one good deal, then I could clear all the debts.”
She closed her eyes. “But it wasn’t good.”
“No.” A quiet whisper.
“Dad…”
“I’m in debt to a very bad man, Harlow.”
Her stomach dropped away. “Okay, we just need to find a solution.” She set her shoulders back. This was what she did. “We can—”
“He’s going to kill me if I don’t pay him back.”
Harlow felt the world lurch and she grabbed the edge of the table for support. “What?”
“I told you, he’s…not a good man.”
She swallowed. “He’s a criminal.”
Her father’s blue-green eyes met hers. They roiled with emotion. “He’s never been charged with anything.”
“ Dad ,” she breathed. “How could you get involved with someone like that?”
“I was desperate.” His face turned miserable. “I messed up, Princess.”
He was perspiring. Anger swelled inside her. She couldn’t believe he’d done this. Risked everything.
But this was her father. The man who’d hugged her when she’d needed it, taught her to drive, and while he wasn’t perfect, she knew he loved her.
She grabbed his hand again. “What can we do?”
He squeezed her fingers. “Harlow…” He swallowed. “I need some money.”
“I have some savings. We can pay this man off.”
Her dad ran a hand through his hair. “I owe him more than you’d have.”
Harlow wasn’t drinking anything, but she still choked. “What? How much?”
“I’m not saying. But a down payment will buy me some time.”
Visions of her own place to renovate evaporated. “I have fifty thousand saved.” Saved from years of hard work.
Her dad squeezed her hand. “Thanks, baby girl, I can always count on you. Can you transfer it today?”
She nodded dully. A mix of anger and sadness welled inside her. “Does mom know?”
“No,” he said quickly. “And I want to keep it that way. This would kill her. You know how she is.”
Yes, Eleanor Carlson was…delicate. She coped with stress by avoiding it, ignoring it, and heading to bed with a headache.
He patted Harlow’s hand again. “This money will help me get some time to make things right. And get things in order before Scarlett’s next college payment is due.”
Harlow pulled in a breath. Scarlett was finally loving her studies and doing well.
“Thanks, Princess.” Her dad hugged her again, his arms tight, and a little desperate.
“Dad?”
He rose, his chair squeaking on the floor. “It’s all going to be okay.” He patted her back.
“The man who tried to grab me—”
“I’ll talk to Armand right away, and give him the money. He’ll leave you alone.”
Her nerves were dancing. She hated this.
“I’m so sorry, Harlow.”
She nodded and stood. “I need to get to work.”
“Right. Um, you’ll transfer the money right now?”
She nodded. “I’ll text you when it’s done.”
“Thanks. Bye, Princess.”
She watched him hurry out of the cafe and then pinched the bridge of her nose. Her phone pinged and she pulled it out. She had a bunch of messages.
What the—? They were all from the Tyrant.
Why will you be late?
Where are you?
Harlow, what’s going on?
Call me.
“Crap.” She tapped the app for an Uber. She’d be at the office soon, and she needed to transfer all her savings to her dad. The tyrant would have to wait.