Page 14 of Daddies’ Dark Desires (Forbidden Fantasies #19)

GRANT

I lock Harper in my office, a smile on the corner of my mouth as she screeches on the other side of the door.

Trent is on my heels as we march back to Oliver’s office. He’s ready with the rundown before my feet stop moving, diving straight into the details.

Harper’s snooping has intensified. He’s unraveled how Harper got past our safeguards to begin with—some program on a thumb drive that can be traced back to an Aaron Winters, an old college buddy of Harper’s, but he still hasn’t pinned down how the path she followed was created initially.

How the trap was set and from where. By whom.

Worse, someone’s piggybacked on his surveillance without him knowing, using the firm’s own system against him.

Oliver shows us the new threats from the live trace, even though he’s shut them out of our system, not only is it likely they’ll make their way back in if they exploited some loophole we still haven’t uncovered, but they’ve already gotten a hold of Harper’s information.

Someone is tracking her location, watching her screens. Right now.

She’ll need a new phone. New laptop. But that won’t keep her completely safe. Not if they’ve made it into the new security system.

“Do they have access to the new cameras you’ve installed? The bugs on her bag? Her key fob?”

Oliver grunts. “No. Those are on a closed system separate from the firm’s.”

“That’s good at least.”

Oliver grunts again.

“That still doesn’t mean she’s safe. The old security system is part of the firm’s system. They have plenty of access to her and Samantha.” The calculation in Trent’s dark gaze pulls a sigh out of me.

“She’s as safe as we can make her for now. We’ll drive her home from now on. Get her new equipment.” I’m already predicting how much of a fit she’s going to throw over this. Threat or not.

Harper doesn’t have any sense of the kind of danger she’s in. That all this prodding and poking I’ve repeatedly warned her against would put a target on her.

And look where we are.

“She needs someone stationed at her house.” Trent shifts, growing bigger like he’s ready to go to blows over it.

“We don’t.”

His nostrils flare, hands clenching into fists. “ I’ll watch her.”

Trent wants to watch her? In her space? Her bed in the next room? Hell no.

I narrow my eyes at him because I can’t say that. Because I’m the boss. Because I said we’d protect her. And because if I open my mouth, it’ll be obvious how much I want to be the one walking into that house with a bag and a gun.

“Remote surveillance and drone backup is enough.”

The rumbling noise that comes from Trent has me holding up my hand to stop whatever argument he’s forming.

“Her house has already been breached, even with the upgrades. The place is vulnerable. It’ll make them move in faster if they see us standing guard.”

“I’m not talking about standing guard outside. Acting like security. I’m saying I’ll be a guest who happens to have her protection as my priority.”

I let out a sardonic laugh. “That’s just as suspicious. Put whatever fancy words on it that you want, but the change in routine, the heightened presence of the firm and our security there will tip them off.”

“They’re already tipped off.”

“We keep surveilling until something else changes.”

Trent slams his fist on the desk, rattling the keyboard Oliver is typing on and making the other man pause to look at him, pointedly. “Yeah, well, surveillance will do her a whole lot of good if someone breaks into her place and one of us isn’t there.”

“We can have someone there in minutes.” Especially if Oliver keeps up his late-night vigilance.

Trent leans closer, the intensity in him flashing with menace. “A lot can happen in minutes.”

The low growl of his voice elicits disturbing thoughts. The kinds of things I’ve completed in less time. A couple of minutes is a smorgasbord of delight to a twisted fuck. And if someone plans well and has the means, they could capture her and take her to a secondary location without much fuss.

Our only saving grace then would be Oliver’s ability to track them. And if they’ve gotten away with invading his safeguards once, piggybacked on his hacking, then who’s to say they can’t hinder his ability to keep an eye on her when they strike.

No. I can’t allow that possibility.

“We can set her and her mom up in a safehouse.” But even as I say it, I know that’s not viable. None of them are safe enough for her. Not for Harper.

And Samantha would never let us uproot her busy life for a potential threat. Even to her daughter.

“We take her back to our place. It’s the most secure, and you both know it.” Trent is adamant. His persistence grating against my long-ago won calm.

Why does the mere thought of Harper in danger have my hackles raised so high? The idea of her in my home for the foreseeable future poking holes in the steadfast rule that makes her off limits.

If we let her in, barriers are going to crumble. I can already see it.

I wipe a hand down my face and look at the ceiling for some divine intervention to divert where my thoughts spiral. “Fine. Go take her to gather her things. I’ll have a new phone and laptop waiting for her. And we’ll reinforce the fortress.”

Trent doesn’t hesitate; he about faces and goes for Harper.

I turn back to the monitors as Oliver works. He’s already pulled up the internal camera for the office, tracking Trent’s movements as he lets himself into my office to retrieve a very feisty Harper.

She slams a fist against his chest as he holds her bag and phone hostage. Even without being able to hear their exchange, I can imagine her voice calling him an asshole, ordering him to give her things back, that she’s not going anywhere with him unless he asks her nicely.

They face off in the elevator, her hands on her hips to make her seem bigger, but she’s so small compared to the three of us, exaggerated by the way Trent uses his bulk to tower over her—the same way I did when I caught her snooping the first time.

It drives heat into my gut because I know we’re all combating the same natural response. The one that wants to conquer her—not subdue her but to turn that flame into a weapon in our arsenal rather than snuffing it out.

Whatever he says to her gets her in the car without too much struggle. She sits with her arms crossed, staring out the window. The cold shoulder. Silent treatment. Harper is biding her time, working on a plan to regain control.

It won’t work.

The moment the car has pulled up to her house, she’s out the door, stomping up the steps like she’s forfeited her things to his possession and has simply settled on locking him out.

She slams the door toward his face, but his boot catches it.

Her screech must echo under those high ceilings because Trent breaks into a small smirk.

Fuck, the tension building between them as she yells and he keeps from falling into her emotional trap eats at me. She’s putting on a good show.

Trent points up to her room. Go pack a bag.

Her clear no has him stepping forward, head tilting dangerously. It doesn’t look like it phases her much.

She’s fire, through and through.

I shouldn’t stand here watching her. I should trust him to handle it. But I don’t. I can’t.

This growing addiction keeps me glued to the screen, watching the tug-of-war unfold. Watching as she jabs a finger into his chest and talks with her whole body, combating for the control she’s so used to having.

It’s not going to help.

Trent doesn’t touch her. Doesn’t flinch. Just stands there as she rages like a hurricane. Talk about an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object.

He says something low, and fury takes over her face in deep reds before she turns and stomps up the stairs like a grounded teenager.

Taking a slow, deep breath has Oliver glancing back at me. What goes through his head as he watches her? He spends so much of his day like this. Observing from afar.

It rakes against my sanity because I hate how she reacts to him—defiant, sure, but not scared. Never scared. She still doesn’t understand.

She thinks we’re simply trying to control her. Take her freedom.

But this is about survival.

I turn away from the monitor before she appears in her room. Before seeing if she packs her bag willingly or if she makes Trent do it for her. Because he will.

I would.

Heading down to my car, I make the short trek home—to the converted industrial building the three of us transformed into a shared space. Each of us taking a floor as a condo, leaving the top and bottom floors to share.

It’s the safest place in the city with the steel-reinforced doors, the three different biometric locks, and the sublevel safe room, but especially with the three of us living there.

Now, it’s time to flip on every failsafe we’ve ever thought to build.

Motion sensors. Signal scramblers. Lockout traps. Power reroutes.

They’re all live now.

And if anyone so much as breathes the wrong way near Harper…

They’ll never make it out alive.