Page 12 of Daddies’ Dark Desires (Forbidden Fantasies #19)

HARPER

I take the chance to examine Oliver’s backside as we walk to his office. He prowls. The shape of him long and lean like a tiger under that stark white shirt. His olive skin is shadowed beneath it, which means he doesn’t have anything on underneath.

Prominent shoulders, even with the small stoop forward. Like he has a lot weighing him down. Like it takes all his effort to keep upright and moving.

Yet, the curve of his body is dangerous and appealing. I want to unknot him, straighten him out, find a way to take some of that away from him. It’s too tempting not to.

He’s always been the quiet one. The intense one. The one that both scared and intrigued me in equal measure.

And he’s all the sexier in his office, which looks like a one-man surveillance center. All of his monitors are stacked up one wall, flickering images taking over all of them. There has to be at least twenty of them.

How does he keep it all straight?

I swallow at the magnitude of his mind and how it must work to do this kind of thing all the time.

What does he see when he looks at me? Does he look at me?

My knees tremble as I step in behind him.

“Door.” He waves for me to close it behind me, so I do, thrilled and terrified to be in here with him alone.

Oliver peers at me in the blue glow of all those screens and sits, knees wide, posture loose. He points to the seat beside him.

I slowly step forward and prop myself on the edge of the rolling chair, purse clutched to my stomach. Some kind of protective instinct for those files. Or is it self preservation?

Oliver doesn’t ask me about it. Doesn’t say anything. He’s tapping and clicking, and I’m mesmerized by his hands, those long fingers, until they stop. My attention swings to the screens. To what he’s been doing.

The security feed of me using a computer across the office—the only one I know that someone isn’t strictly assigned to—and that in itself isn’t so suspicious. The screen beside it shows exactly what was on my screen as I uploaded a program to rifle through his system to find Dad’s encrypted files.

“Why are you spying on me?” My voice comes out soft, almost hurt, and I hate it. I’m not one to showcase my weaknesses.

When you’re a brat, people leave you alone. Don’t ask why you’re upset. They let you deal with it on your own.

I don’t want Oliver to see it. Don’t want him to watch me squirm in my emotions.

The way his gaze cuts to me has me trembling even harder. It’s not hard. Not soft. Just…observant. Like he can see all of me.

“I would never spy on you, Harper.” His voice is neutral, eyes assessing.

“What would you call it then?” Because it looks like he’s been watching me. Why would he look into the computer when I was on it otherwise? How much has he seen while I’ve been working here?

My fingers dig into the edges of my bag.

Fuck, Harper. You’re such an idiot.

Just because he hasn’t called me on it doesn’t mean he doesn’t know what I’ve been doing. Not if he’s got footage like this.

“I would call it my job.” He’s so still, so cold. I want to reach out, touch him, see if he’s real. See if he’s warm under all of that armor. What has he been through to make him this way? “What would you call what you were doing?”

I sit up straighter, unwilling to admit to anything more than he’s accusing me of. “Research.”

“Research.” Another flat tone. He swivels toward me, taking me in.

What does he see when he looks at me?

I nod, squaring my shoulders. It is research. I’m looking for the monsters who killed my father. If no one else will look, I will.

“And you were going to rope one of the other interns into this…research?”

How did he?—

Time for a redirect. Time for me to get some truths out of him.

“How often do you watch over me? Is it just in the office? Or is it other places, too?” I latch onto my bravado, because now that I’ve asked, I’m not sure I can handle whatever answer he gives me.

He just stares at me. His body language is detached and lethal, but his eyes are a blaze of emotions. Dark ones.

My heart thunders as I refuse to look away. No more weaknesses.

“Well?” I ask.

“I decrypted the files, but I still need a password to get past the last step. Only four tries.”

That blinks me out of the indignation building in my chest at his not answering my question. He’s already decrypted them?

My grip on my bag loosens. No need to clutch it like a lifeline. Not if he’s already in.

“Four? Have you tried any yet?” What is he waiting for? Why put this whole thing on if he’d already gotten so far without my help.

“No. I want your help analyzing my options. As his daughter and as a profiler.”

This earns me a little pride. After all, he hadn’t found these files until I uncovered them. He might not have ever if he wasn’t monitoring my moves this afternoon.

I hold up a finger because this is what I planned to work on through the night with Sunny. She doesn’t need to wait on me if Oliver has already gotten this far.

Pulling out my phone, I shoot her a quick text.

Going to be a while. Update you in the morning?

Absolutely. Don’t spill too much blood!

I bite back my smile and turn my attention back to Oliver. Still, there’s no change in his features.

“So, you’re not mad I went snooping?”

He lifts a finger to tap on his mouth. This stare-off has lasted longer than I’m comfortable. It makes my skin crawl with fear and anticipation.

“No. I am disappointed that you asked for an intern’s help instead of mine though.”

I’m unsure if I heard that right. “You’re disappointed…because I didn’t come to you?”

“If you’re smart enough to find a trail, you’re smart enough to know I saw you.” That’s not just disappointment in his voice—it’s something else. Possessive. Protective. Quietly furious.

I suck in a sharp breath as he turns back to the screens. My chest aches with something I can’t quite pinpoint. Something that makes me hot and bothered.

I’d thought of coming to him with this. But after the unhelpful third degree Grant and Trent gave me, I didn’t want him to do the same thing.

I bite my lip at him as he minimizes the footage and brings up a file. Mine.

Emotions are whiplashing through me. I can’t pin down Oliver. What he wants from me. From this situation.

“This isn’t about the snooping, Harper.” His voice drops to something darker. Measured. Those nearly black eyes are a chasm that give away nothing. “It’s about you being a target because of what you found.”

Wait. What? A target?

“What do you mean I’m a target now? How do they even know it’s me who found those?” I mean, I knew there was a chance that Dad’s friends might catch me. But someone else? Someone outside of the system?

Someone not on my radar that wants their hands on this information? How would they even know I’d go looking?

Those cold, calculating eyes burn hotter than I’ve ever seen. “It means someone’s watching you. Actively. And they’re not just looking for access to your father’s past.”

“What are they looking for then?”

“Access. And you just gave it to them.”