“Easton?”
His blue eyes met hers, churning with something she didn’t quite recognize.
“Yes?”
“Can you please hold me a bit longer?” Her body was trembling, and she couldn’t seem to control it.
He tugged her closer, her face pressed against his shirt.
It felt so good. Like she’d been looking for this very spot for so long.
“Better?” His voice rumbled under her ear.
She nodded and gripped him tighter.
Footsteps echoed behind her.
She tensed, and felt Easton do the same.
“You made a big mistake with that stunt, Armand.” The tone of Easton’s voice made her jerk.
He was furious.
Chapter Seven
Easton struggled to hold on to his control. With his blood still pumping through his veins from the fight, and the volcanic anger that Armand had tried to take Harlow—like she was a fucking commodity—and the fact that she was trembling in his arms, he was close to the edge.
He eyed Antoine. The man looked relaxed, his two guards hanging back. Easton wanted to plant his fist in the middle of the asshole’s face.
“I assure you, Norcross, this has nothing to do with me.”
Harlow turned, glaring at the man. “You said if I had dinner with you, that my dad would get forty-eight hours’ extra time.”
Easton ground his teeth together. Blackmailing her. Fucking scum.
“Those were not my men, Harlow,” Antoine insisted.
Easton frowned. From what he could tell, Armand wasn’t lying. Easton was sure the guy lied as easily as he breathed, but nothing he said now gave off a lying vibe.
In fact, the asshole looked concerned.
“Don’t worry,” Antoine continued. “I’ll find out who’s responsible and—”
“No,” Easton growled. “You aren’t coming near Harlow again.” He wrapped an arm around her and picked her up. She gasped, leaning against his chest, but didn’t fight him.
The shorter guard lunged forward. “Don’t fucking talk to him like that. He wants the bitch, I’ll get him the bitch.”
Armand threw an arm out, spewing out some French. The guard vibrated, scowled, then stepped back.
“I apologize for my cousin Hugo. He’s…spirited.”
Easton strode past Antoine. “She doesn’t exist for you anymore, Armand.” Easton stopped where he’d parked his Aston. He set her down and bleeped the locks.
“Easton—” Her voice wasn’t quite steady.
“Get in, baby.”
Her gaze met his, then she slid into the car.
He stomped around the other side and got in. He pulled onto the street, his hands tight on the wheel. He scanned their surroundings, looking for anyone watching them. He glanced in the rearview mirror to see if anyone was following them.
He thumbed a button on the wheel.
“Yeah.” Vander’s deep voice.
“Armand blackmailed Harlow into dinner.”
Vander cursed and Harlow sank deeper into her seat.
“Afterward, two guys tried to snatch her off the street and shove her into a black Suburban.”
“Fuck. You know who they were?”
“No. Armand insisted it wasn’t his goons.”
“Who else wants her?” Vander asked.
“I don’t know,” Harlow said. “Before today, no one did. I’m nobody special.”
Easton glanced at her and she turned away to look out the window, her face pale.
“I got a partial plate off the SUV.” Easton said. “6WDG.”
“I’ll run it. You keeping her safe?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Easton, I’m sorry,” Harlow said. “I said I wouldn’t drag you into this—”
He reached out and rested a hand on her thigh. “You didn’t.”
She touched his hand, then gasped. “Your knuckles!”
He flexed his hands. His knuckles were torn and bloody. It’d been a while since he’d been in a fistfight. “They’ll be fine.”
“Where are we going?” she asked. “This isn’t the way to my apartment.”
“You can’t stay at your place, Harlow. Armand is interested, and now some unknown player is after you, as well. It’s too dangerous.”
“God.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “What else could possibly go wrong? An earthquake? A volcanic eruption? Maybe the entire West Coast will fall into the ocean.”
His lips twitched. She wasn’t beaten down. Harlow’s spirit was shining through. “Let’s hope those things don’t happen.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“My place.”
“Your place?” Her voice rose to a squeak.
“Yes. You’re staying with me.”
She turned in the seat. “I can’t stay with you, Easton. You’re my boss.”
“I don’t care. You’re in danger. I have a security system, guards who do drive-bys, and a brother who owns a security company.”
“This is crazy. I can’t stay the night at your place—”
He shook his head. “Not just a night. You’re moving in with me until this is all over.”
She sucked in a breath. “We can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because…” She fidgeted and plucked at her dress.
“Because we’re attracted to each other?” he prompted.
She made a sound. “I was going to say because we wanted to bang each other’s brains out, but sure, let’s go with attracted.”
Easton almost swerved into the oncoming lane. He muttered a curse, his cock pressing against the zipper of his pants. “I don’t have a problem with that.”
“Easton—”
“I’m a man who, when I see something I want, I go after it with everything I’ve got.” And he was finally accepting that he wanted Harlow Carlson.
He liked flirting with her, liked watching her work, liked fighting with her.
“I can’t process that right now.”
He squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to. Right now, I’ll get you safe. That’s the most important thing.”
He drove into the Pacific Heights neighborhood, turning onto Broadway.
“Of course, you live on Billionaire’s Row,” she muttered.
“There are seven places in San Francisco claiming to be Billionaire’s Row.”
She snorted. “This is the main one. Everyone knows that.”
He slowed and turned. He thumbed the remote on the dash and his garage doors opened.
Harlow looked out the window.
“Oh my God, I knew you were rich, but—” She shook her head, taking in his four-story, cream stucco mansion. It took up a spacious corner block. “It looks like an apartment building and a Tuscan mansion had a love child.”
Shaking his head, he drove into the garage. Lights clicked on automatically, and the door closed behind them. He parked beside his black Audi R8 Spyder.
Harlow got out, spinning around and taking it all in. “You have a four-car garage. And a second sports car.”