“How, Dad?” She grabbed the end of the ponytail, trying to keep the strands from blowing in her face.
His jaw tightened. “I’ll find a way.”
She turned to look at the water, her belly churning.
“Harlow?”
“I love you, Dad, but I’m so angry at you right now.” She turned to face him. “I can’t believe you’ve dragged us all into this.”
“I’m sorry.
She grabbed his arms. “You need to stay safe, as well.”
He pulled her close and hugged her.
“Well, well, well.”
The masculine, accented voice made Harlow jerk back.
Her gaze fell on the man standing nearby. He looked about forty, and was wearing a dark-blue, woolen coat. He had a sharp face, with pale-blue eyes, and well-cut, blond hair. There was a faint smile on his thin lips. Everything about him was sharp—chin, nose, his clothes. He was flanked by two guards in suits—one burly, and one short and wiry.
“Charles, where have you been hiding this beauty?” He had a French accent.
Her father stepped in front of her. “She’s not a part of this, Armand.”
Armand. This was the guy her father was in debt to. She lifted her chin.
The man smiled at her. “She looks like she has more spirit than you, Carlson. I’m going to assume she’s your daughter and not your girlfriend. She has your eyes.”
“From what I hear,” Harlow said. “You’re a criminal and an asshole.”
Her dad made a choked noise.
Nerves winged through her, but she was sick of feeling helpless and afraid.
“I’ve never been charged with a crime,” Antoine drawled.
She rolled her eyes. “Right. You just do shady deals. Suck people into ventures that lose money. And you threatened my father and family.”
Antoine held up his gloved hands. “I’m simply a businessman, Ms. Carlson.” His voice iced over and he looked at her dad. “And when people don’t pay me my money, I get very, very unhappy.”
A shiver ran down her spine. Antoine managed a perfect combination of creepy and charming, with a dash of sleaze.
“Lovely,” she said. “I see you have a winning personality, as well.”
Antoine stepped closer. His cologne hit her and she wondered briefly how a bad guy could smell so good. He moved even closer, invading her personal space, and Harlow stiffened. She held herself still, even when she wanted to step away.
The man might smell all right, but he creeped her out.
“You are quite delicious,” he murmured. “What’s your name?”
Ew. “You’re a creep.”
“Your name?” he repeated.
His two bodyguards stepped forward. The small, wiry one swept his suit coat open and flashed her a glance of the holstered gun at his hip. Her pulse spiked. He shot her a grin that wasn’t quite…normal.
“Let me teach her a lesson, Antoine.”
“Quiet, Hugo.” Antoine raised a brow.
“Harlow,” she spat.
“Harlow. Lovely.”
“Still a creep.”
He stared at her intently for a long moment, then broke into laughter. “I like you, Harlow.”
“I’m sorry I can’t say the same.”
Something moved through the man’s eyes. He turned to her father. “I’ve come up with another way to clear your debt.”
Hope flared in her father’s eyes. Harlow clutched her handbag more tightly in her fingers.
“I’ll take your daughter, instead.”
Her father gasped.
Harlow’s mouth dropped open. “What? You can’t buy people.”
Another sharp smile. “Sure, you can.”
“No!” her father cried.
She lifted her chin. “I am not for sale.”
“Everyone has their price.” Antoine reached out to touch her hair, but she knocked his hand away.
“I don’t know you,” she said. “And I don’t like you.”
“I could change your mind.”
“No. And believe me—” think of something to throw him off “—my boyfriend would not be happy.”
Antoine waved a hand negligently. “I don’t care about your boyfriend.” He cocked his head. “And I suspect you’d do anything for your father.”
Her heart clenched.
“No,” her father said again.
Harlow’s skin crawled at the thought of letting this man anywhere near her. In that second, she felt so incredibly alone.
“I’ll get your money, Antoine,” her father pleaded. “I just need more time.”
“I’ve already given you enough time.”
“I can—”
Antoine held up a hand, his gaze met Harlow’s. “Dinner.”
“What?” she said.
“To buy your father forty-eight hours, you’ll have dinner with me tonight.”
Oh, God.
Her father grabbed her arm. “Harlow, you don’t have to—”
“Just dinner?” she asked.
Antoine smiled. “If that’s all you want.”
“Harlow—” Her father tugged on her arm.
She nodded. “Okay.”
Antoine’s smile widened. “I’ll send you details and have a car collect you.”
“Send me the details, and I’ll meet you there.”
“Harlow,” her father said again.
“Go, Dad. I’ll call you later. I need to get back to the office.”
With one searing glance at Antoine, she strode away.
She couldn’t think and her skin felt slimy. The office was closest. Most people would’ve left for the day by now. She needed to collect her things, and get herself together.
She hoped Easton was gone. She was pretty sure he had a business dinner this evening.
She trembled, goose bumps forming on her arms and legs, and headed toward the main door on autopilot. This was all a nightmare. Dinner with a criminal. She shuddered. She’d get through it. And if it bought her dad time, it was worth it.
Although she had no idea how he could come up with the money. She wondered just how much he owed.
She swiped herself into the Norcross building.
When she reached the office level, it was thankfully empty. She strode to her desk.
Correction, it was empty, except for Easton’s office.
She heard the rumble of several male voices.
“Find her,” Easton barked.
“We’re working on it,” Vander replied.
“I’ve got Ace on it,” a third voice said. “It’d be easier if he could see her phone. He’ll be able to track her more easily.”
Harlow stepped into the doorway.
Easton leaned against his desk, with his arms crossed over his chest. His face looked like a thundercloud. Vander and another man—a tall, handsome man with blond-brown hair stood beside him. Saxon Buchanan was Vander’s best friend and right-hand man at Norcross Security. He was also engaged to Easton and Vander’s sister, Gia.
“What’s going on?” Harlow asked.
The men spun fast. Easton straightened, his gaze burning into hers. “Where the hell have you been?”