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.”