grip on her out-of-control emotions.
Their server appeared and they ordered their meals.
The sooner this was over, the better.
“So, what do you do, Harlow?”
He was talking like they were out on a date. “I’m an executive assistant.”
Antoine held his wine and swirled the red liquid around the glass. “You like it?”
“I love it.”
“Taking care of other people’s needs?” He sounded dubious.
She sniffed. “I love being organized, efficient, and damn good at my job.” She scanned the restaurant. She’d always wanted to come here, and now Antoine had ruined it for her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched a small group enter—three men in suits, and a woman in a sexy, fitted black dress that Harlow had seen in the Chanel collection and coveted.
The woman laughed, a husky sound. She was tall and slender, and the dress was fabulous on her. She smiled at the man beside her.
The man was sauntering through the tables like he owned the place. A liquid way of moving, in complete control of his body.
Harlow froze. She knew that walk.
Easton turned his head, gracing the woman with a smile.
Damn. With everything that had happened, she’d completely forgotten his business dinner with the team of lawyers from Peregrine Corp was here. How the hell could she have made this mistake?
The woman looked like she’d be happy to do anything for Easton.
Much like Harlow had on that conference table.
Her hands clenched on her glass. Screw it. She needed a sip of wine to make it through this.
She grabbed the wine glass and gulped. She covertly watched Easton’s party get seated. Not too close, but not as far away from her table as she’d like.
If he saw her…
God, clearly, she was being punished by the universe.
Easton was sitting in profile to her. She slumped a little in her chair.
“Why do I get the feeling you aren’t listening to me, lovely Harlow?” Antoine’s voice was a silky drawl.
She glanced back at Antoine. “Because I’m not.”
His cold eyes flashed. “I like a little sass and feistiness, Harlow, but don’t push it.”
A skitter of ice ran down her spine. “Well, I’m not going to ask you what you do. I’ve no interest in criminal activities.”
“I’m a businessman.”
“I work for people in real business. You’re no businessman.”
Antoine sat back in his chair. “I also enjoy art, black-and-white movies, and collecting antique weapons.”
She looked out the window. “This is not a date.”
“I recently purchased a gold-encrusted sword that once belonged to Napoleon.”
She remained silent.
“What do you enjoy when you aren’t working?” he persisted.
“Spending time with my family, who I hate seeing threatened.”
His brows pulled low, and she knew she was definitely trying his patience. She blew out a breath. “Watching renovation shows.”
He arched a brow. “Renovation?”
She guessed criminal masterminds probably didn’t get involved in renovations. “Yes. Rehabbing old homes.”
“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