Page 5 of Daddies’ Dark Desires (Forbidden Fantasies #19)

TRENT

T he office is emptying, the fading of footsteps and the quieting of daily bustle as everyone clears out. I find Grant in Oliver’s office. It’s dark with the faint blue glow of the wall of monitors Oliver routinely watches. Nothing else hangs on the walls to distract him.

Sterile. No personality.

Not that my office shows off more than the traditional filigree—awards from my military service, my degrees in Psychology and Strategic Intelligence. Pictures of my parents and siblings. And maybe one of the stray cat that likes to sleep on my balcony.

Although how it gets there every night, I’m still not certain.

Oliver’s office doesn’t even have any of that.

When I step in, the two of them are spying on Harper as she heads home. She’s on the public train, scribbling in her notebook, sandwiched between two elderly couples.

Is that the same notebook I saw her scratching away in at lunch. I itch to discover what she’s so intent on. What’s spiking her respiratory rate and making her glow like that?

She’s been testing boundaries today. Sauntering around our office like she owns the place. Like she can wrap every man here around her finger the same way she did Ryan. And already, her magic is working on our personnel.

Spellbound by her confidence. If only they knew how well she could back it up.

That confidence is exactly what’s going to get her into trouble.

After a few minutes, I lean against the door jam. “Can we bug her phone or something? Keep a better watch on her?”

Not that what Oliver is doing—has been doing—isn’t impressive. But it would be faster and would give us more information if we had a tracker on her.

Finally keep her safe the way we’ve been trying to for the past year since Ryan’s death. She doesn’t like to stay home, likes to be around too many people. Too public of places. Not paying enough attention to her surroundings. To the people watching her.

Especially since she split with her boyfriend a few weeks ago.

Harper’s head lifts, taking a deep breath, and the angle showcases a large slice of her cleavage. That tight little outfit she’s wearing today, showing off her curves and too much leg…

Then her winking at every man that met her gaze. Grinning at me like I’m somehow immune to her bratty charm.

I’m not.

It boils my blood, burning my palms as I maintained control. She’s not to be touched in this office. By anyone.

Especially me.

Grant turns to peer at me as I watch Harper tie her hair back with a hairband. “You want to bug her phone?”

I suck in a deep breath and meet his gaze. “You don’t?”

“Mmm.” He does. I know he does.

This damn protective impulse is riding all of us. We can’t readily keep a solid eye on her when she’s home. Not like we can when she’s here, at the office.

As much as the decision to give her an internship is based on her merit…her family, our history…it’s about keeping an eye on her, too.

We just need to be sure she doesn’t take this opportunity to dig into Ryan’s death.

She’s too much like her mom.

Too much like her dad.

That doesn’t spell out an easy path ahead for this. Because she’s got no sense of what kind of danger she’s in. Perhaps, that’s our fault for not divulging where Ryan was when he died. What he’d fallen into.

If only he hadn’t done it alone. Without us. Even if it was just an inkling, he should have let us in on it.

And now, she’s here without the experience of being shot at, at being hunted, at being the prey to some sick, perverted bastards. For us, it’s just another day. But not for her.

“Her badge, phone, and laptop already give me location and some visual. How much of her do you want to see?” Oliver asks.

I want to see a lot more.

More than I should.

Especially after the way she shivered when I told her to behave. Fuck, it’s left me with circling thoughts all day, growing worse and worse with each spin she took in that fucking chair.

I would have loved to be a fly on the wall while she battled with Leonard in that conference room. Because, let’s face it, Harper’s a brat. She expects to get everything she wants. And heaven help me if I’m one of those things.

If I want to be one of those things.

Tension drenches the room. I can’t be the only one of us who has steered onto this dark path. Not with the way the three of us are standing here like we have any right to watch her this way.

Maybe we don’t.

Maybe I don’t care. I’ll plant a bug on her myself if I have to.

Maybe I’m a perverted old man because the mere thought of putting a camera in her bag and having it follow her home, having her change in front of it, getting to see glimpses of her that are private…only for me…unfiltered by her bratty persona…

Fuck.

My body heats, and my cock twitches.

I suck in a slow breath.

I need to think about this rationally. To remember the kind of trouble she’s going to get herself into without adding my wanton desires to the mix.

The little minx is going to go sneaking around the office, putting hooks into people she shouldn’t. She’s going to dig where it isn’t safe.

Information is one of the deadliest forms of currency. The only way to keep someone from spreading it is to kill them.

Everything inside of me grows cold at the idea of Harper getting herself killed because she can’t let her father’s death go. Not that I can blame her.

But it isn’t her job to figure it out. It’s ours.

“I want eyes on her when all her devices are off. What are my options? Because if she’s going to sneak, she’s not going to be dumb about it.”