to feel pressured. I am in a position of power.”
She made a scoffing sound. “This didn’t happen—” she waved at the table “—because I felt coerced.” She glanced at her phone again and her spine straightened. She glanced at her watch and a panicked look crossed her face. “I have to go.”
“Harlow, you could be in danger.”
“I promise I’m okay.” She swallowed. “Armand gave my dad a bit more time.”
Male voices echoed outside the conference room. Vander and Saxon.
“I’ve got to go.” She slipped out of the room.
Easton pressed a hand to his hip and ground his teeth together. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder and take her back to his place, and not let her out.
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