Chapter 5
Chapter Five
E aston fought down the knot of emotions in his chest. He grabbed Harlow’s arm and towed her out of his office.
“Hey,” she cried. “Easton—”
“Quiet.” She was safe. He reminded himself of that.
He shoved open the door to the conference room and pulled her in.
“Let me go,” she snapped.
“Where the hell did you go? Are you all right?”
She strode to the long, glossy table, then spun. “I’m not yours to worry about.”
He stalked toward her and she backed up two steps. He pinned her against the table.
He knew he was coming on too strong, but that hour she’d been gone… His jaw worked. She had no idea of what people like Armand were capable of.
“You don’t get to manhandle people.” Her eyes sparked. “Even if you are Easton Norcross.”
She twisted, her body brushing against his.
He felt his body respond and clamped down on that reaction. “Harlow—”
“Easton,” she snapped back.
He gripped her hips. “I want to help you.” Keep you safe.
She stilled, shadows in her eyes. “No one can help me. I’ll fix this.”
“It’s your father’s mess to fix.”
She stilled, her eyes widening. “You know.” Her voice was a whisper.
He didn’t respond, fighting the urge to slip his fingers into the waistband of that maddening skirt and touch her skin.
“Of course, you know,” she said, resigned. “You’re Easton Norcross.”
“I asked Vander to do some searching.”
Her lips pressed together and she looked at the floor. “So, you have all the ugly details.”
“I know your father made some stupid mistakes, and he’s in debt to a bad person.”
She laughed, but there was nothing humorous in it.
“I want to help,” Easton said.
Her gaze met his, her chin lifted. “I’m fixing it.”
His gaze narrowed. “How? Do you know who Antoine Armand is?”
A faint grimace crossed her face.
“Let me enlighten you, Harlow. Armand was born and raised in the South of France. He was the son of a wealthy businessman, and eventually took over the business. It’s said he poisoned his father to speed up that process.”
She jolted.
“He built up the business to include gambling, smuggling, prostitution, money laundering, drugs. You name an illegal way to make money, and Armand does it.”
Harlow’s teeth sank into her bottom lip.
“He made enemies, bigger, more powerful ones, than him. So, several years ago he moved here. He’s re-building his little empire from scratch. That’s who you’re dealing with. He won’t hesitate to slit your throat. How are you going to deal with that?”
“I have to try,” she said quietly. “For my father.”
Frustration burst in Easton. “Harlow—”
“This isn’t your business.” She pressed her hands to his chest and pushed. He didn’t budge. “I promise this won’t spill over into my work.”
Easton growled. “I don’t give a fuck about work. I want you safe.”
Her big, blue-green eyes glimmered. Shit, he could almost feel himself falling into them. What was it about this woman?
Her fingers curled in his shirt. “It’ll be over soon. I’m not dragging others into this, especially not my boss.”
“Forget about me being your boss,” he growled.
Her gaze met his, her lips parted. “I can’t… If I do…”
Desire—a hot flood of it—poured into him. His fingers dug into her hips. She leaned closer, her gaze on his mouth.
“You drive me crazy,” he murmured.
“Oh, you’ve driven me way past crazy,” she murmured back.
Easton wasn’t sure who moved first, whether it was her or him.
Their mouths collided, her breasts pressed against his chest.
His mind just stopped functioning. Harlow was in his arms. Her mouth his to claim.
With a short growl, he forced her lips open. She moaned, her hands sliding into his hair. Her tongue stroked his.
Easton ravished her mouth, pulling her closer. She tasted like every dark promise he’d ever wanted.
His cock was hard in an instant. He lifted her onto the conference room table. She gasped, then tugged his tie loose.
He couldn’t get close enough. “These damn skirts.” He shoved her skirt up, baring thigh-high stockings with lace circling her upper thighs. He groaned.
She yanked him closer. She had two buttons of his shirt undone, her fingers touching his ink.
Easton shoved her legs apart and closed the gap between them. The hot core of her, covered only in tiny black panties, pressed against the bulge in his pants.
She moaned and he muttered a curse. She undulated against the hard ridge of his erection.
Hunger rose, eroding his control. The control he lived and breathed.
Harlow kissed him, clutching his head, her luscious body moving wildly.
He drove his tongue in to find hers, pulling her closer.
He needed her closer.
He needed her safe.
A phone beeped.
Easton ignored it. He needed Harlow more than he’d ever needed anything.
But she stiffened.
She fumbled with her bag and lifted her cell phone. Whatever the message was, it drained the color from her face.
She pushed against him, her legs falling away from his hips. She sat there on the conference room table where he did business daily, looking thoroughly disheveled—from his hands and mouth.
Her gold hair was tangled around her face, her lips swollen, and her skirt still hiked up to show those damn stockings and her long legs.
“Harlow?” Easton straightened. He was well aware that his suit pants did nothing to hide his raging hard-on.
She shook her head, like she was waking from a daze. She blinked, her cheeks flushed. “This shouldn’t have happened.” She slid off the table and yanked her skirt down. “God, you have dozens of women throw themselves at you every day. I’m not joining that party.”
“You didn’t throw yourself at me.” He worked his jaw. “And while you’re working for me right now, you still report to Meredith.”
Harlow’s eyes met his. “I’m not going to sue you for sexual harassment, Easton.”
“I know. I just…I don’t want you to feel pressured. I am in a position of power.”
She made a scoffing sound. “This didn’t happen—” she waved at the table “—because I felt coerced.” She glanced at her phone again and her spine straightened. She glanced at her watch and a panicked look crossed her face. “I have to go.”
“Harlow, you could be in danger.”
“I promise I’m okay.” She swallowed. “Armand gave my dad a bit more time.”
Male voices echoed outside the conference room. Vander and Saxon.
“I’ve got to go.” She slipped out of the room.
Easton pressed a hand to his hip and ground his teeth together. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder and take her back to his place, and not let her out.
Vander and Saxon appeared in the doorway.
“She okay?” Vander asked.
Saxon raised a brow. “She looked like someone just kissed the hell out of her.”
Easton just glared. “She said she and her father are fixing the issue.”
Both men scowled.
“Armand doesn’t give second chances,” Vander said.
Frustration rode Easton hard. “She said she was safe.” For now, he’d have to trust that. He looked at his Rolex and cursed. “I’ve a business dinner to attend.”
And he was going to need a little more patience where Harlow Carlson was concerned. He wasn’t sure where he’d find it, especially when he could still taste her on his lips.
* * *
Harlow finished putting her makeup on, her belly tied up in knots.
She had thirty minutes to be at the Acquerello restaurant to meet Antoine.
She pulled a face in the mirror, then touched her lips.
And thought of Easton’s mouth. On hers. Heat curled low in her belly.
She’d kissed the hell out of her boss on a conference room table with her skirt hiked up around her waist.
Harlow groaned, and dropped her chin to her chest.
She couldn’t succumb to Easton’s panty-melting—and clearly brain-scrambling—hotness. She needed her job. She needed the money now more than ever.
And a fling with her boss was the last thing she needed on top of all the current complications in her life.
She couldn’t think of Easton right now. She hated that he knew all the gory details of the shit that was swirling around her and her father.
At least he didn’t know that Antoine had blackmailed her into dinner.
She finished with her lipstick—a soft pink. Minimal and natural. She was trying to look as plain as she could. Her hair was in a simple twist and she wore the plainest dress she owned. It was black, and had a high neck, long sleeves and ended at mid-calf.
It did hug her body, but at least it covered her skin more than anything else in her wardrobe.
“Shoes.” She pondered her admittedly large shoe collection. She didn’t own any ugly shoes.
It would have to be the Louboutins. She’d be keeping the sexy red soles firmly on the ground.
Harlow felt a little nauseated as she walked into the gorgeous Italian restaurant in Nob Hill five minutes late.
She dragged in a deep breath. Suck it up, Harlow. You agreed to this.
She strode in and stopped at the hostess desk. “Armand table.”
“This way,” the elegant woman said.
The woman led Harlow through the restaurant, with its old-world elegance and low, romantic lighting. A huge vase of fresh flowers dominated a central table. Nearby, Antoine saw her and rose, a smile on his face that made her skin crawl.
“Harlow, you look beautiful.”
She moved to the chair opposite him and sat. “I agreed to come. I did not agree to be nice.”
He sat and eyed her with a half smile.
“I don’t like you,” she said. “And never will, and until I know you’ll leave my father alone, I won’t trust you.”
A server appeared, hovering and uncertain.
“A bottle of the Bruno Giacosa Borolo Riserva,” Antoine said.
Harlow didn’t react. Her father had mentioned the Bruno Giacosa Riserva. The wine went for almost a thousand dollars a bottle.
“I promise you, Harlow, I’m not the monster you think I am.”
She thought of what Easton had told her. “Nothing you say will change my mind.” She grabbed the glass of water off the table. No way she’d drink wine and lower her defenses tonight.
“You should be nicer to me. We both know your father can’t come up with what he owes me in two days.”
Despair flared in her belly. “How much?”
A slimy smile. “That’s between me and your father. But you’d be worth any price.”
“I told you, I’m not for sale.”
The sommelier appeared and showed Antoine the wine. The man poured the red and Antoine tasted it. Harlow tried to get a grip on her out-of-control emotions.
Their server appeared and they ordered their meals.
The sooner this was over, the better.
“So, what do you do, Harlow?”
He was talking like they were out on a date. “I’m an executive assistant.”
Antoine held his wine and swirled the red liquid around the glass. “You like it?”
“I love it.”
“Taking care of other people’s needs?” He sounded dubious.
She sniffed. “I love being organized, efficient, and damn good at my job.” She scanned the restaurant. She’d always wanted to come here, and now Antoine had ruined it for her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched a small group enter—three men in suits, and a woman in a sexy, fitted black dress that Harlow had seen in the Chanel collection and coveted.
The woman laughed, a husky sound. She was tall and slender, and the dress was fabulous on her. She smiled at the man beside her.
The man was sauntering through the tables like he owned the place. A liquid way of moving, in complete control of his body.
Harlow froze. She knew that walk.
Easton turned his head, gracing the woman with a smile.
Damn . With everything that had happened, she’d completely forgotten his business dinner with the team of lawyers from Peregrine Corp was here. How the hell could she have made this mistake?
The woman looked like she’d be happy to do anything for Easton.
Much like Harlow had on that conference table.
Her hands clenched on her glass. Screw it . She needed a sip of wine to make it through this.
She grabbed the wine glass and gulped. She covertly watched Easton’s party get seated. Not too close, but not as far away from her table as she’d like.
If he saw her…
God, clearly, she was being punished by the universe.
Easton was sitting in profile to her. She slumped a little in her chair.
“Why do I get the feeling you aren’t listening to me, lovely Harlow?” Antoine’s voice was a silky drawl.
She glanced back at Antoine. “Because I’m not.”
His cold eyes flashed. “I like a little sass and feistiness, Harlow, but don’t push it.”
A skitter of ice ran down her spine. “Well, I’m not going to ask you what you do. I’ve no interest in criminal activities.”
“I’m a businessman.”
“I work for people in real business. You’re no businessman.”
Antoine sat back in his chair. “I also enjoy art, black-and-white movies, and collecting antique weapons.”
She looked out the window. “This is not a date.”
“I recently purchased a gold-encrusted sword that once belonged to Napoleon.”
She remained silent.
“What do you enjoy when you aren’t working?” he persisted.
“Spending time with my family, who I hate seeing threatened.”
His brows pulled low, and she knew she was definitely trying his patience. She blew out a breath. “Watching renovation shows.”
He arched a brow. “Renovation?”
She guessed criminal masterminds probably didn’t get involved in renovations. “Yes. Rehabbing old homes.”
“You’d like to do that one day?”
“Yes.” She risked a quick glance at Easton’s table.
The female lawyer had her hand on his arm, leaning in close.
Oh yes, Mr. Norcross. Whatever you want, Mr. Norcross . Harlow’s hand clenched hard on the stem of her wine glass.
“But you gave your father all your money.”
Her gaze flashed back to Antoine.
He smiled. “I could help make that dream a reality. And make your father’s debt disappear. All you have to do is agree to be mine.”
His slave. To sell herself. Let him put his ugly hands on her.
“No, thank you.”
Their meal arrived, but Harlow wasn’t hungry. She didn’t think she’d be able to swallow a mouthful of the pasta.
As Antoine talked with the server, she looked away.
And her gaze collided with a furious blue one.
She sucked in a breath.
Easton glared at her across the restaurant, his gaze shifting to Antoine, then moving back to her. Harlow felt the punch of his anger across the distance between them.