Chapter 3
Chapter Three
E aston rapped his knuckles on his desk.
Where the hell was she?
First, she’d said she was fine, then that she’d be late. He scowled. He wanted to see for himself that Harlow was all right.
He saw a flash of movement outside his office and heard someone at Harlow’s desk.
He strode across his office, and when he saw her, something in his chest eased.
“Ms. Carlson, you’re late.”
She looked up. She was perfectly put together as always, but her eyes looked sad. He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“My office. Now.” He turned around and strode back to his desk.
“I haven’t even sat down and it’s orders, orders, orders.” Harlow slammed his door and the walls rattled. “Yes, Master? You want to fire some grumpy, abrupt things at me?”
Easton swiveled, then closed in on her.
She stiffened.
He cupped her cheek. He saw the bruising she tried to hide with makeup around her left eye. He gently stroked it.
The scent of her wound around him. He swore her perfume was designed specifically to drive him crazy. “You smell good.” Fuck . “Forget I said that.”
“You smell good, too,” she said. “Forget I said that.”
Their gazes meshed, and a pulse of something moved between them.
She stepped back and his hand dropped.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She cleared her throat. “I told you I was.”
“I can tell something’s wrong.”
Her eyelids dropped, like she was hiding from him. “Everything’s fine.”
“Harlow.” He reached for her.
She pushed his hand away. “It is.”
“You know I was in the Army Rangers, right?”
“I…knew you were in the Army. The Rangers are special forces, right?”
He nodded. “I was a specialist in certain areas.”
She shifted. “Okay.”
“In interrogation.” Old memories pushed up, and as he was used to doing, Easton shoved them back down. “I’m trained to read minute facial cues and other physical body language. I know you’re lying.”
Her lips parted.
Damn . His gut coiled. She’d painted them a luscious red today.
“It’s none of your business,” she said.
“I’m making it my business.” He’d begun by calling his friend Hunt.
Detective Hunter Morgan was a good Army buddy of his brother Vander’s, and now worked at the San Francisco PD.
Hunt spent a lot of time helping Vander and his company, Norcross Security, out when they got into scrapes.
Hunt had told Easton that there were no reports of muggers in Harlow’s area.
That didn’t mean there weren’t any, but Easton’s instincts were humming.
Something was going on. “Harlow?”
For a second, she looked so sad, then she straightened.
“Everything’s going to be fine.” She looked at the slim, silver watch on her wrist. “You have a meeting with Felix Enterprises in the main conference room in five minutes.” She pulled away. “I’ll check to see if they’re here.”
She sauntered out. She was wearing one of those long, tight skirts that accentuated her curves.
Something was going on, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.
Easton grabbed his tablet off his desk and heard the murmur of Harlow talking to someone.
“I have a report for Mr. Norcross,” a breathy, female voice said.
“Leave it on my desk,” Harlow replied. “I’ll see he gets it.”
“Oh, I thought I could…give it to him myself.”
Easton paused in the doorway and saw a young woman in a sleeveless dress. She tossed her cloud of streaked blonde hair over her shoulder. Shit, she looked like she was lucky if she was old enough to drink.
Harlow skewered the woman with a look. “Leave it on my desk.”
The young woman pouted and set the file down. Then she strode off like she was opening fashion week.
He heard Harlow mutter under her breath, then she turned back to her computer screen.
“Ready?” he asked.
She jolted, then tapped the screen so it went to sleep.
But not before he saw that she was on a banking website.
“Ready.” She rose, gathering her things.
Easton followed her to the conference room. She sailed in, moving to the side table, to check the drinks and snacks.
The door opened.
“Easton,” Larry Miller boomed. The man was in his late fifties, with a wide, easygoing smile. “Good to see you.”
Then the man spotted Harlow and his eyes and smile widened. “I see you traded in that bossy, old dragon lady of yours. Well done.”
Easton felt a flash of annoyance. “Mrs. Skilton is on leave. This is Ms. Carlson.”
“A pleasure,” Miller drawled.
Harlow gave him a small, professional smile.
Easton sat at the head of the table. “Let’s talk business.”
The meeting went long. Miller talked a lot, but he was a savvy negotiator. Another assistant brought in lunch.
Harlow bent over, arranging the food.
Miller let out a low, appreciative noise and leaned closer to Easton. “Is your lovely, new assistant single?”
“Yes, but you’re not,” Easton bit out. “How is your wife?”
“Happy when I leave her to her own business.” Miller laughed.
Easton kept his face blank. Asshole . “Let’s get these final contract points decided.” Then Easton could get Miller out of here.
They ate their lunch and finished their business.
“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Norcross.” Miller eyed Harlow again.
“I’ll see you out,” Easton said.
“I’m going to say goodbye to the delectable Ms. Carlson.”
Easton gritted his teeth together. “No, you aren’t.”
Miller’s grin slipped a little. “Norcross—”
“You’re not going near her.”
The older man nodded and winked. “Ah, I see you’ve got your eye on her yourself.”
“Just go, Miller, before I change my mind about doing business with you.”
The businessman left looking disgruntled. Easton didn’t give a shit.
“Right.” Harlow bustled up to him. “You have a call with New York shortly. Zane Roth.”
Easton nodded. He enjoyed working with the finance billionaire.
“And lawyers from Cartwright, Dolan, and Bird sent some contracts over. Legal has marked some things for you to take a look at. It’s all on your desk.”
“Thanks.”
They crossed the floor, and reached her desk.
“You also have a two o’clock with Eva Morales from FlexDash. I’ll let you know when she arrives.”
God, she was more organized than Mrs. Skilton.
“There’s also fresh coffee on your desk. And a dark chocolate and pistachio cookie.”
His favorite. His gaze narrowed. “Firstly, how did you know about the cookies? And second, how did you organize that?”
She winked. “A good assistant never reveals her secrets.”
And yet, Easton wanted hers. He studied her face. “You’re really okay after last night?”
Her smile dimmed. “Yes.”
“When you were late this morning—”
“I met my father for breakfast.” She turned to face her computer.
She sounded normal, but every one of Easton’s instincts, honed sharp by the Army, itched.
She slid a wireless headset on. “This is Harlow.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Mr. Roth is on the line.”
Easton nodded and headed for his desk.
One thing a good interrogator needed was patience.
* * *
Harlow sipped her Earl Grey tea and burned her lip.
Ow .
She set the mug down on her desk and massaged her temples. She’d had too much coffee today and had switched to tea. She heard the rumble of Easton’s deep voice in his office. He’d been on this latest call for over an hour.
Her phone rang and she saw it was her bestie, Christie.
“Hey,” Harlow said.
“You still breathing?” Christie drawled. “Or has Mr. I-Own-the-World Norcross done you in?”
“Ha ha. If I don’t make it, it’s because he’s made my head explode.”
“Well, at least you’ll go out with a killer view.” Christie hummed. “Anytime that man visits our office, my heart takes off like my feet when I hear there’s a shoe sale on.”
Harlow snorted. Christie worked at Tenneson Industries. Harlow was well aware of the stir in the office when Easton visited her boss Meredith.
“Is it true that he has tattoos under those delicious suits?” her best friend asked.
“Yes.”
“God. Hang on, how do you know?”
“At the end of the day, he sometimes rolls his sleeves up.”
Christie made a sound. “Sorry, having a little orgasm.”
“Stop it. You’re happily married, remember?”
“And I love Charlie, but my darling hubby doesn’t even own a suit.”
No, Charlie was a landscape designer. He favored boots and shorts.
“You’re as bad as all the women who stop by to give Easton a file or a report. I have to beat them off with a stick.”
“My money’s on you. You’re mean when riled.” A pause. “You aren’t tempted by the sexy bod, the tattoos, and that face?”
“Working for him for about thirty seconds cured any heart eyes.” Oh boy, she was lying to her bestie now.
“We should get together for a coffee soon.”
“With Easton’s schedule, that’ll probably be next September.”
“Easton, huh?”
Harlow shifted in her seat. “That’s his name.”
“So, have you narrowed down any horrible house wrecks to buy and flex your reno skills on yet?”
Harlow’s stomach plummeted and she struggled to keep her tone even. “Not yet.”
“Why did your voice go funny?”
Damn, she hated her best friend sometimes. “What? No, it didn’t.”
“Spill, Carlson.”
“I haven’t found the right place.”
“Hmm.” Christie sounded dubious. “How was your date last night?”
“A dud.”
“Ugh. I don’t miss the dating merry-go-round.”
“The tyrant actually saved me. He needed me back at the office. Then when I got home, a mugger grabbed me on the street.”
“What?” A screech. “Why didn’t you call me and Charlie?”
“I was fine. Easton scared him off.” She couldn’t tell Christie about her dad. Harlow nibbled her lip. She wouldn’t drag her friend into this mess. She’d deal with it.
“Easton, again. So, your sexy boss played hero?”
“He dropped me home.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I promise.” Harlow’s cell phone rang. “I have to go, babe. Coffee soon?”
“If your hunky boss lets you out. Oh, and Charlie and I are heading down to San Diego for a week, remember?”
“Lucky duck. Bye. Love you.” She snatched up her cell phone and saw her sister’s name.
“Scarlett.”
“Hey, big sis.”
A flood of love hit Harlow. “Hi, little sis.”
“I haven’t got long,” Scarlett said. “I’m about to head into a lecture. I just wanted to say hello.”
“How’s school?”
“ So awesome.” Her sister’s voice lit up. “I’ve finally found my thing Harlow. Like you did. Another year, I’ll have my degree, and I have so many plans.”
Harlow smiled, but her hand curled around the phone. Her sister was so happy. After several years of being so miserable doing a business degree, she’d switched to studying teaching at UCLA.
Harlow couldn’t let that get ruined. “Do you need anything? I can organize for—”
Scarlett let out a huff. “I’m a big girl now, Low. I can do things for myself. I know you love to keep us all organized, but you need to chill.”
“I just want to help.”
“I know.” Her sister’s voice softened. “But I’m not a little girl anymore. And Mom and Dad depend on you too much. I know you organized the new gardener at the house, and booked their upcoming cruise, and made dad’s doctor’s appointments. They’re adults.”
“I like helping.”
Her sister sighed.
It was an old argument that Harlow usually sidestepped. “You keep studying hard.”
“I will. You don’t work too hard. Hey, on my next vacation, I’m coming home. I can help you knock down some walls when you get a place.”
Harlow’s belly knotted. “Sure.”
“Or I can paint. I’m good at painting.”
“I have to go, Scarlett.”
“Sure, me too. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
When Harlow ended the call, she dropped her head into her hand. Then she looked up and logged onto her bank website.
Her savings account showed a big fat zero.
The money was gone.
Well, she hoped her dad was safe now.
“Find a problem, solve the problem.” This would all be sorted out soon.
“Harlow?”
She jolted, spun, and threw the pen in her hand. Easton caught it before it hit him in the face.
He frowned. “You okay?”
She felt heat rising in her cheeks. “You just surprised me.”
He eyed her like a scientist studying a sample. “I overheard you talking with your sister.”
“You shouldn’t eavesdrop. Shoo, I have reports to finish and meetings to schedule.” She waved her hand. “Go buy a Rolex or something.”
Easton pressed his hands to her desk and leaned across it. Her pulse spiked.
“I know something’s not right with you. You work for me, so you belong to me. I protect those who are mine.”
His face was only inches from hers and her heart did a funny jerk. “I don’t even know where to start with that.”
“Talk to me.” His voice was low and smooth, like melted chocolate.
“I’m not dumping my personal problems on you.”
“Others do.”
Yes, she noticed way too many popped by to share their problems, which he could solve with a check. “Well, I’m not others, and you need to learn you can’t control everything.”
Suddenly, there was a ripple of whispers through the office. She looked up and saw a man walking toward them. Her spine straightened.
Vander Norcross looked a lot like his older brother. They both had coal-black hair, muscled bodies, and blue eyes. Although Vander’s eyes were deep, midnight blue, so dark they almost looked black. Easton’s were a prettier cobalt that she got lost inside.
The middle Norcross brother was slightly leaner than Easton, harder, and even though he wore a suit, he didn’t have the same elegant, classy edge Easton radiated.
No, Easton looked like he could stride into a boardroom and initiate a company-wide takeover without breaking a sweat.
Vander looked like he could defeat an army before breakfast, dismantle a biker gang at lunch, and then take over a small hostile nation at dinner time, maybe followed by a little global assassination for dessert.
Harlow locked her knees. Vander was the definition of hot badass, but he also scared the bejesus out of her.
“Harlow,” he drawled.
“Hi, Vander. If you’ve come to see your brother, he has a tiny gap in his workaholic, make-a-billion-dollars-before-dinner-time schedule.”
Vander’s lips quirked, and damn if it didn’t make a little curl of heat pulse in her belly.
Easton shot her a look. “Hi, Vander. Ignore Ms. Smart Comeback and come in.” He waved his brother into his office. Then he looked back at Harlow. “We’ll talk more later.”
She didn’t miss his emphasis on talk.
She rolled her eyes.
As the brothers disappeared into Easton’s office and closed the door, Harlow dropped back in her chair.
A notification popped up on her screen.
She had a new email. She clicked it, and her heart clenched.
It was a sale alert on a gorgeous, rundown Victorian home. A diamond in the rough. The house had wonderful curb appeal, but needed new paint, and inside, it needed a complete gut.
She closed the email and deleted it.
Time to stop daydreaming and get back to work.
Her cell phone rang. It was her father.