His fingers brushed her jaw line. “Tough. Sleep well, Harlow.”
He sauntered out and she forced herself not to watch him go. The man had this way of walking that captured every female gaze in the vicinity. She closed the door and locked it, then leaned her back against the wood and squeezed her eyes closed.
Then she pushed away, her anxiety ratcheting back up. She snatched up her phone. It was later than she’d normally call her parents, but she had to check if her dad was okay. And find out what the hell was going on.
The call went straight to her dad’s voicemail.
Harlow sighed. “Dad, call me as soon as you get this.” She dropped onto a stool at her high kitchen counter. “A man tried to snatch me off the street tonight. I’m okay… But he said something. Dad, I think it has something to do with you. Call me.”
She ended the call and worry nipped her like little bugs all over her skin.
Harlow decided she needed a hot shower, maybe a glass of wine, or a day at the spa, or a vacation in Tahiti. She could still feel Easton’s touch on her jaw.
Easton Norcross wasn’t a man who gave up easily. He’d keep pushing her to find out what was wrong.
She just wished she knew.
After a scalding-hot shower, Harlow pulled on her favorite, oversized T-shirt and fluffy, gray socks. One had a hole in the toe, but they were so soft and comfy.
She climbed into bed, thinking that worry for her dad would keep her awake.
Instead, it was thoughts of Easton’s sexy tattoos that danced in her brain.
How many did he have? And how much of that hard body did they cover? She groaned.
Boss. Boss. Boss.
“He’s your boss, Harlow Maree Carlson. Totally one-hundred-percent off-limits.” She pulled her pillow over her head and willed herself to get to sleep.
Sun blared into her face.
With a groan, Harlow rolled over in bed. She’d forgotten to close the curtains last night. She flopped onto her back.
She’d had a rough night. Not because of her attack, no, she was blaming it solely on Easton Norcross.
Her demanding boss was even taking over her dreams, damn him.
She shifted on the sheets. She’d woken twice in the night, both times hot and flushed, picturing those strong hands on her skin.
In one, his sexy car had featured too, with Easton spreading her out on the hood.
Heat pooled between her legs. She sat up, pushing her hair back.
A cold shower was the first order of the day.
Her phone beeped. It had to be her dad. She lunged for the bedside table.
She was wrong. It was a text message from a contact she’d saved as Tyrant.
Did you sleep well?
Speak of the devil. She tapped her phone.
No.
Are you okay?
Fine. Still waking up. Unlike certain workaholics, I don’t get up to make millions before breakfast.
I worked out as well.
You need help.
Harlow wrinkled her nose. Her workouts involved the odd Pilates class when her friend, Christie, dragged her to one, or power walking to the coffee shop for a latte.
Do you need a day off?
She gasped and typed furiously.
No.
Sure?
She wasn’t sure she could deal with a considerate Easton Norcross.
Yes. Stop being nice.
Okay. See you in the office, Ms. Carlson.
Don’t mess up my desk before I get in.
She showered—she only managed lukewarm, because despite the hum of inappropriate desire, she couldn’t do a cold shower. She had a few finger-shaped bruises on her shoulder, and a faint smudge along her cheekbone. Thankfully, that could be hidden with makeup. She moved her arm and felt a twinge. She might pop some Advil as well.
She dressed in a fitted, black skirt and a sensible white shirt before she blow-dried her hair. She pulled it back into a sleek ponytail.
Her phone beeped again.
She shook her head. No doubt Easton couldn’t find something.
She glanced at the phone and her stomach clenched. It was a message from her father.
Meet me for breakfast. Sweet Maple.
Damn. Harlow pressed a hand to her cheek. He hadn’t even asked her if she was okay. What the hell are you mixed up in, Dad?
She shot off a quick text to Easton.
Change of plans. I’ll be a little late.
Then she grabbed her bag and dashed out the door. Her phone beeped as she entered the elevator, but she ignored it.
A few minutes after eight, she walked into her favorite neighborhood breakfast place, the laid-back Sweet Maple. They did the best French toast. It took a second to spot her father. He sat alone at a table, nursing a coffee mug. He was staring out the window.
Her heart clenched. Her normally well-dressed, well-groomed father looked disheveled. He wore a creased suit, and his hair looked like he’d run his hands through it a hundred times.
“Dad?”
His head jerked up, and he shot to his feet. He had dark circles under his eyes.
“Princess.” He pulled her close and hugged her. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Luckily, my boss dropped me off last night and scared the guy away.”
Charles Carlson bobbed his head and sat. He toyed with his mug nervously.
Harlow dropped into a chair. “Dad, what is going on? You left a message saying you’re in trouble, then you avoid me, now this man saying—” Harlow couldn’t swear to her dad “—you’re screwed, and so am I.”
Her dad drew in a choppy breath. He looked so tired. “I’m so sorry, Princess.”
Not tired. Dejected.
She pressed her hand over his. “Talk to me, Dad. Let me help.”
The air shuddered out of him. “It started last year. I had a real estate deal go bad.”
Okay. That didn’t sound so terrible. Her dad unfortunately had deals not work out before.
“Then another business deal fell through. I…” He shook his head. “I lost a lot of money.”
“I understand. It happens.”
Weary, worried eyes met hers. “A lot of money, Harlow. I was going to lose the house.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. Her mother loved that house in Presidio Heights. Harlow and Scarlett had grown up in the large, light-filled home.
“But then I met an investor. I made some new deals.”
“Dad?” She didn’t like the tone of his voice.
“He’s not a great guy. The deal wasn’t what I’d hoped. I kept trying to find a way out.” Desperation soaked his voice. “I just needed one good deal, then I could clear all the debts.”
She closed her eyes. “But it wasn’t good.”
“No.” A quiet whisper.
“Dad…”
“I’m in debt to a very bad man, Harlow.”
Her stomach dropped away. “Okay, we just need to find a solution.” She set her shoulders back. This was what she did. “We can—”
“He’s going to kill me if I don’t pay him back.”
Harlow felt the world lurch and she grabbed the edge of the table for support. “What?”
“I told you, he’s…not a good man.”