Page 21 of Daddies’ Dark Desires (Forbidden Fantasies #19)

HARPER

I feel refreshed as I serve Grant in the morning—being on my knees beside him at his desk at home, watching him slowly drink his coffee as he reads the news, trembling with my want to crawl into his lap—I also feel more empowered.

His home office is the exact opposite of his one at work. There, it’s dark wood and open power. Here at home, the walls are a light blue that matches his eyes and his desk is a simple light wood. The space is still clean, but it’s filled with books and a chess set sits in the corner by the window.

Grant doesn’t order me to bow my head or keep my eyes to myself, so I take in every detail available to me from this position. Most of them are of him, like how big his hands are, calloused from hard work and scarred from the past.

My staring doesn’t bother him, just as him silently watching me place his coffee on his desk and kneel beside him didn’t bother me. He doesn’t need to say anything. His silence is like a collar around my throat.

The plush carpet makes my wait easy, and it’s not too long before he sets down what he’s reading and turns to me, a finger under my chin as we play the staring game. After a minute, he tells me to stand, and he inspects my outfit.

I decided not to push him on it this morning because I already have plans to piss him off later.

But there’s something about being told what to do at home, by a man I willingly hand control over to, that makes me bold for the rest of my life. Even if he wants to be in charge there, too.

That’s not how I play this game.

Besides, I have things to do today that mean breaking some of Grant’s rules for the office. And it’s better if he doesn’t know I plan to disobey him.

I studied those redacted files in between the usual stack I’m assigned to review, and I finally found a connection, the last four numbers in sequence. The only thing I could connect it to was an IP address, and the last digits indicated our network.

The information was redacted by someone else in the firm, which means I need to get my hands on them. I learned a trick online of how to recover what they redacted, but I need to get my hands on the original prints to do it.

I can’t ask Grant for direction or for Oliver to dig into it for me. Every time they get their hands on something I find, I lose access to my clues, and that’s getting super aggravating.

It’s time to enlist my own help. Sunny was so gung-ho before; would she be willing to risk aiding me again?

I cozy up to her at lunch, which isn’t so abnormal, but Grant did instruct me that I must eat lunch with her—or him—when I’m at work. None of the other interns dare sit with us today. I guess the spectacle Trent made yesterday was enough to keep them at bay.

For now.

“So, hey,” I start softly.

Her brow lifts and mouth quirks as if to hide her ever-present smile. “Hey…”

She draws the word out like a question.

“I know we didn’t get to play spy last time, but I have a new mission that I need some help with. And we would have to pull it off here. In the building. Without being caught.”

Sunny practically trills, wiggling in her seat. “Ooo, yes, yes, yes.”

“First, I need you to help me locate an office based on an IP address. Then, I need a distraction while I’m in there.” I take her hand and squeeze it in mine to keep her from showing too much outward excitement. She squeezes back. Hard.

“This is, like, some for real spy shit. Okay. You got it on you?” Sunny is glowing. If Kyle saw her right now, he’d probably fall to his knees and propose. It’s hard to pass up so much sunshine.

“No. It’s back at my desk. I’ll slide it to you when we get back. I figure I’ll take one of my famous coffee breaks?—”

“The ones where you like to wander because it helps your brain make connections.”

I laugh. “Yeah, one of those, only this one will bring me to the office I need to sneak into to grab what I’m looking for.”

I can’t give her much more than that. It’s better not to, and I’m glad she doesn’t press me for more information.

Sunny shifts topics easily. “You’re glowing today. Does this have to do with the three men who have kidnapped you and are holding you against your will?”

Sighing, I’ve told Sunny little bits of what’s been happening. It’s better for the people who might find out about it to think that this has to do with my investigation into my dad rather than the slow unravelling of boundaries between me and my bosses.

“My brattiness is starting to pay off. That’s all.”

She purses her lips, knowing more than I’m saying by reading my body language. It behooves me to remember she’s been trained in many of the same techniques I have.

There’s no reason for her to know the way I let my three captors dominate me after we leave this place.

Fuck, who am I kidding, they control a good portion of my life here, too.

It’s why I have to go behind their backs after all, and if Oliver isn’t listening, he’ll see when I make my move.

He sees everything.

“Would it look weird if we got back to our desks early?” Sunny asks in a soft voice. “I might love the suspense and the idea of danger a little too much.”

“Mmm. Maybe. Let’s swing downstairs to grab a coffee and pastry and head up. It will look more natural that way. I can show you something on my computer and eat my cookie where I’m blocking the screen from the cameras.”

Her big blue eyes light up. Get even bigger. “Okay.”

We descend the set of stairs into the lobby and grab some much-needed caffeine and sugar. The elevator is empty as we make our way upstairs. It’s a good sign.

Sunny sits at my computer as I eat my cinnamon roll. It takes her literally less than a minute to locate the IP address and another minute to locate which office it traced back to. Upstairs with the other original investors.

Fuck.

I know most of them. This one, though—Jonathan—never came over to the house, and when I used to come visit my dad at his office, he reminded me of those skeezy posh phonies.

Sunny sets up a private chat on my phone, one that whoever might be monitoring me, Oliver included, won’t see us plot this out. She scoots back to her desk to finish her coffee.

“Why didn’t Kyle follow us to lunch?”

She shrugs. “I think the boys just need to go be boys sometimes. Think they needed to talk about our boobs?”

I laugh a little.

“Or our butts?”

I laugh harder, feeling the twinge of pain from it in my cheeks.

The embodiment of sunshine, she twinkles at me.

“Most likely both.”

“Mmm.” Sunny nods thoughtfully.

I think I’m going to have to go in full flirt mode. But I’m going to need a distraction that draws him out of his office. I text her privately.

“How many of them do you think are having wet dreams about us?” I ask to deflect in my obnoxious way. Always take it too far so that people don’t take my jibes seriously.

Yes, it backfires.

But Sunny turns bright red in the best way. “You think?”

“Mmm hmm,” I confirm sagely.

I can create a distraction. I’ll fake a breach on my phone and realize it while looking for you. No way you can help. He’ll have to.

It’s about her follow-through and confidence, and this sounds right up her alley.

We go at 4:30.

The other interns filter back in, and Trent makes a pass through, pointedly maintaining my eye contact as he walks by. I give him an innocent smile. One I know will mean he questions what I’m up to.

If I duck my head too much, that will also be suspicious. It’s a delicate balance to keep.

The rest of the day is easy to push through, and I’m on route to Jonathan’s office. I use the stairs to get my blood pumping and keep my nerves at bay. He’s a top investor, which means he’s close with the guys.

I’m walking a tightrope here.

I can’t back down. And I’m going to play dirty to get my hands on those originals.

The hallway is clear as I stomp down the carpet. I do pass a guy who gives me a once over. I send him a wink and move like I know exactly where I’m going and that someone’s expecting me. It’s all about confidence. People don’t question you when you look like you know what you’re doing.

I do, even if I don’t.

Jonathan’s office is in the corner, and his door is cracked just an inch, swinging open a few more inches so my face can fill the gap when he grunts a “ Who’s there ?”

His gaze lifts, and I see the predatory gleam in his eyes—the one that always made me uncomfortable as a pre-teen. Then, that polished smile surfaces. It’s phony. A misdirect. A show.

Fake. All of it.

“Miss Blair. You’re far from your cubicle. Something I can help you with?”

I lean against the door jam, letting my hip pop out to exaggerate my curves. “Mr. Chase. I hope I’m not interrupting anything too important…”

I offer him a slight smile. An innocent tone. Nothing too eager.

He straightens behind his desk, clearly pleased to see me. His gaze drops to where I unbuttoned an extra button on my blouse and the long slope of my legs. “For you? Never. Come on in.”

I step in and replace the door where I found it—not closed but almost. My hips swing as I glide inside and lean against the edge of his desk.

His pupils blow wide, and I’m not sure why his attention grosses me out just as powerfully Trent’s turns me on.

Part of me is surprised he hasn’t burst in here by now.

“So, I’m working on this project, and I need some help. It’s some complicated finance thing, and I remember how you were always the guy for that.”

He preens a little. Men always love compliments.

About their intelligence, the definition of their muscles, the size of their manhood…

I touch one of the papers on his desk, close to his hand but not quite touching him. “If I showed you some of these accounts, would you be able to tell me what I’m missing?”

This angle has me tipping forward an inch, just enough to show off the deep line of my cleavage. I catch him like the pot of honey I am.