Page 31 of Daddies’ Dark Desires (Forbidden Fantasies #19)

HARPER

T he shock has worn off, and they’ve officially holed me up in Grant’s office.

Trent is out on recon, and Oliver is searching through the program Sunny left on the computer she broke the drive off in. The extra bug already revealed a short video of Sunny’s scared face and her last words: “They’re coming. Find me.”

My heart wrenches at her words. At how I got her into this.

Sucking in a shuddering breath, I take in Grant’s office again. Dark. A mix of modern and old fashioned. All power.

But Grant isn’t behind his desk like he usually is. Not working. Not fussing. No, he’s sitting on his couch by the far wall. And he’s gone a different version of quiet.

He looks lost in thought and not the good kind. He’s peering down at something in his hand, so I rise from the comfy chair he settled me in and walk over to him, tipping down the frame in his big hands. It’s an old photo of him, Oliver, and Trent. And my dad.

The shock of seeing them all so young—so long before me—sends a flutter through my chest. None of them had the degree of seriousness I see in them now.

Grant isn’t meeting my gaze, staring off somewhere else. All the control he usually has, it’s learned. It has to be. Because this is his grief. A festering wound underneath the strong facade.

How many times has he been broken before to hide it this well?

If I hadn’t spent every day with him for the last three weeks, I likely wouldn’t be able to tell.

I lift the frame from his grip and set it aside before I crawl into his lap. This isn’t a distraction. I’m not feeling particularly sexy, even if I’m sure he could convince me if he really wanted to. No, this is something more.

Comfort. Necessary for us both.

His arms come around me as I lean into his chest. Grant is so warm and solid under me. It’s easy to settle against him, my hands at his sides as I sink my face into the open collar of his shirt and breathe him in.

One arm tightens around my shoulders as he holds onto me tightly.

God, I’ve missed being hugged like this. Something that manifests my dad for me. Strong, long, smothering hugs. This may not be exactly the same. It never could be. But it’s close enough to bring tears to my eyes. Not the kind that will fall, but a recognition of what I’ve lost.

His grief is palpable. I catch a few wayward breaths, but I just hold onto him.

I know he’s got to feel guilty. Fuck, he’s full of it. It’s not a side he shows often. Grant isn’t the kind of man to hold onto remorse for an action he chooses, but he does beat himself up over his inability to keep people safe.

And this whole thing has triggered his grief over Dad.

His guilt over doing something that made Dad not trust him fully. Although, I know he understands it intellectually. I’ve watched those three turn themselves inside out trying to figure out which of the men they trusted to go into business with is the one that’s caused all of this.

Because they are here. Sunny’s disappearance is more than proof of that.

Fuck. Sunny.

I sink into my own despair. I can’t believe I got her into this.

Damn it, nothing bad better happen to her before we get her back. I will never forgive myself. Especially since Sunny is one of my only friends. One of my only true ones. One that’s so willing to put herself in danger to help me figure out what happened to my dad.

But that’s stupid, isn’t it? How could I put someone I care about in danger to find out what happened to someone I love but is already gone?

Dad would not approve.

I’ve let this obsession go too far. I’ve gotten too carried away.

Sunny cannot die in this pursuit. She just can’t.

My intake of breath is sharp but wobbly, and Grant’s hand finds the back of my neck, rubbing gently at the base of my skull as I try to press us together more tightly. It’s impossible, but he doesn’t seem to mind my trying.

Somehow, as big as Grant is, as powerful as I know he can be, he’s always so soft with me. I mean, other than when he’s landing swats on my ass—all of which have been sorely deserved. But like now, his touch is gentle, supportive, soothing.

I feel special for getting this side of him. More than his calm voice and the quiet way he tackles everything, how he brokers no arguments.

Silence usually unsettles me, but this…this is perfectly what I need.

I hope I’m able to give him what he needs, too. I’m not completely selfish. Or at least, I like to think I’m not.

Grant’s office door swings open, and I turn my head to see Oliver storming in. The emotion on his face is just a flicker. Even his walls are cracking.

He pauses when he sees us entwined, and Grant tightens his hold on me, his nose in my hair to breathe me in again.

His grumble is loud against my ear. “What did you find?”

“A trail. Email chains between the investor and the cartel. And a phone snippet from Ryan.”

Grant trembles, or is that me? My hand curls in the front of his shirt, my eyes closing as I let that sink in.

More of my dad’s voice, his words, new to me even after all this time. It’s going to hurt to hear them.

“What’s in the email chains?” God, this man reads me too well.

The silent pause has me turning toward Oliver. His face is dark, but the way he looks at me, I know he’s not upset about me. He’s upset for me.

I sit up straight, still in Grant’s grasp. He doesn’t force me to stay, but he does try to coax me back. Sighing hard, I tip my forehead against his shoulder.

“Just say it.”

“Confirmation that they knew Ryan was onto them. Further confirmation that they know you’re getting too close. Threats to take you out. To use Sunny to do so.” His voice is flat, but Oliver is not robotic, he just sounds that way. Especially when he’s being serious.

Which is most of the time.

That’s it. They’re going to get rid of Sunny to teach me a lesson. This is all my fault.

“And the recording?” Grant prompts. How does he know those words are stuck in my throat, threatening to suffocate me?

There’s a loud silence before my dad’s voice fills the room. “I know what you’re doing. You think the firm covers you. It won’t. I’ve already sent copies—” and his voice cuts out again.

Copies? Copies of what?

“He never sent those copies,” Oliver says. “This was the only one.”

But that would mean we have the copy. We have his bargaining chip. And there’s a lot more of us than there was when Dad went after these guys.

Does that mean we have a fighting chance of taking them down? Of getting Sunny out of there safely?

I straighten again, looking into Grant’s sad but determined gaze. The usual version of him resurfaces.

I brush his cheek to let him know he doesn’t have to revert back to the stone of a man he usually is.

“Now that we have it, we can get the bastard, right?”