“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.
Chapter Six
Easton’s hands balled into fists under the table. He heard Helena, the lawyer from Peregrine, droning on.
But his full attention was on Harlow.
Rage welled in him. She was sitting there, looking beautiful, with Antoine fucking Armand.
“Easton?” Helena said.
“Sorry, go on,” he muttered.
He glanced back at Harlow. He saw panic on her face before she hid it.
Armand said something to her, and Easton watched repulsion cross her features. When she rose and headed for the restrooms, Easton stood abruptly.
The lawyers he was with all startled.
“Restroom,” he said. “I’ll be back.”
He strode across the restaurant, intent on his target. He walked into the narrow hall leading to the restrooms. There was no sign of her.
He spotted a small, darkened alcove nearby. He leaned against the wall and waited. While he did, he tried to keep a lid on the volcanic temper writhing in his chest.
Usually, he was a cool, controlled man. Harlow seemed to bring his temper to boil faster than anyone he knew.
He waited, and finally the door to the ladies’ opened.
Harlow stepped out. Easton guessed she thought she’d dressed down. She had no idea just how that deceptively simple black dress hugged her body, loving every sweet curve. Need was a vicious twist in his gut.
Her hair was pinned up, a few strands tickling along the line of her neck.
She saw him and her eyes widened.
Easton strode to her, tugged her a few steps to the side, then spun her into the alcove. Now they were hidden from anyone using the restrooms.
“Easton—”
He shook his head. “Don’t talk. I’m too angry.”
Her eyes sparked. “I already have to deal with one asshole tonight, don’t make it two.”
He shook her a little. “You know what he is. How dangerous he is. Yet, you’re sitting there with him, drinking wine. Is this how you’re dealing with the situation?” His voice was a contained roar.
She stiffened, like she was going to fight back, then she slumped into him. “Easton, I’m holding on by a thread. He threatened my father, and said if I had dinner with him, he’d give my father a few extra days to get more money.” There was a glimmer of tears in her eyes.
“Don’t you dare cry.”
She scowled at him. “Quit with the orders. I’ll cry if I want.” She sniffed.
She looked brave, but vulnerable. Dammit. She woke up every one of his protective instincts.
Easton yanked her to him. She was stiff for a second, then her arms slid under his jacket and around his body. She pressed her face to his chest and held on tight.
“I want to help you,” he said.
“I know. But you have so many people coming to you for help, or money, or something else. In the last few weeks, I’ve seen so much of it. I’m astounded at the gall of people. I don’t want to add to that.”
His hands tightened on her. “The difference is that I’m offering.”
She looked up. “I know. Give it a couple more days. My father said he has a plan.”
Easton stared at her face. “You don’t believe him?”
She sighed. “I just don’t see how we can make this right.” She stepped back, pulling herself together.
Easton missed the warmth of her. Hell.
“I have to go back,” she said. “Finish this dinner.”
His reaction was knee-jerk. “No.”
“Yes.” She lifted her chin.
Easton wanted to bite the stubborn line of her jaw.
“You go back to the fawning, eyelash-fluttering lawyer,” she said acidly.
He ignored her jab and instead, gripped Harlow’s chin. “I’ll be watching. Until you’re out of here safely.”
She trembled. “Thank you.”
It was fucking hard for him to watch her walk away. He stayed in the shadows, fingers flexing, breathing deeply. For a second, he was back with his Rangers, on a mission, waiting for the right time to strike.
Forcing himself to relax, he walked out and rejoined his group. They started talking business again.
“Easton,” Helena murmured. “I was hoping you might come back to my place after. For a drink.”
He looked past her to Harlow and Antoine. The man was talking, but Harlow was silent, picking at her food.
The asshole had blackmailed her. Used her love for her father against her.
“Easton?” Helena’s smile slipped.
“No, thank you. I can’t. This is business.”
The lawyer sniffed, but nodded.
“Well, this has been a productive and enjoyable evening.” The managing partner stood, and held out a hand. “I’m looking forward to our joint venture, Easton.”
Easton nodded and shook hands with the man.
They all started out of the restaurant.
“I have something I need to do,” Easton said. “Thanks again and good night.”
He crossed the restaurant and strode to Harlow’s table. She saw him coming and her eyes widened.
Antoine glanced up, his gaze darkening.
“Harlow, time to go,” Easton clipped out.
“Easton Norcross,” Antoine drawled. “We haven’t had the opportunity to meet before.”
“I’d prefer to keep it that way.” Easton gripped the back of Harlow’s chair. “Harlow, let’s go.”
“Ah, this is the unhappy boyfriend you alluded to,” Antoine said.
Boyfriend? Easton glanced at her.
She moved her eyes, like she was trying to communicate something. He got it. She’d been trying to throw obstacles at Armand.
“Harlow won’t be seeing you again,” Easton said.
She started to rise.
“We haven’t finished our dessert.” Armand leaned back in his chair, his gaze like a hawk. “If she leaves, our deal is off.” His voice turned Arctic cold.
Harlow froze, then a resigned look hit her face. She dropped back into the chair. “Go, Easton. I’ll be fine.”
Fuck. He wanted to punch Armand in his smug face. “I’ll wait outside.” He speared a look at Armand. “You know who I am. Who my brother is. You hurt her…you’ll pay.”