Page 100 of Daddies Dark Desires (Forbidden Fantasies)

I bet if I could see her face, she’d be smirking. Harper doesn’t do timid. Not even when she should.

The man on the couch—the one who wants us to think he’s in charge but isn’t—allows a small smile in return. “Well, Ms. Blair, you’re bolder than your father was.”

Her pulse jumps on my monitor.

“If he knew your father…and I don’t believe he did. He’s not the one calling the shots.”

I see her shoes as she readjusts, her hands planting on her hips. “Mmm hmm. We’ll let’s just make things clear, I didn’t inherit his patience.”

The guy gives a chuckle, leering at her. “No, I suppose not. Your father knew when to hold his tongue.”

I want to gut him open as he flicks his tongue out at her to accentuate his point.

“You…rush headlong into the trouble. Again. And Again.”

Her laugh is soft.

I cut her off before this devolves into threats instead of progress. “Harper, repeat after me, and we’ll get them to show their hand.”

“Patience gone.” Her hand flies through the air in exasperation. “I have backups waiting to go to the DA in two hours time, so if we don’t wrap this up and come to some kind of agreement—or something happens to me—I won’t be able to stop it from hitting their inbox at unpredictable intervals. You know, to be sure if you stop the first, or try the second, it will just keep sending.”

Pedro’s smile disappears, back to the scary thug act, but now, he’s genuinely upset.

“You’ll get what you asked for. But my friend walks first. No exceptions.”

“If you had your father’s sense, you’d hand me the package, watch her go, and trust me to honor my word.”

“If I had my father’s sense, I wouldn’t be here at all. Because here’s the thing, I don’t trust you, so again, I made a backup plan. Renegotiate.”

“What if I don’t believe you have what you say you have?”

She laughs, and how she keeps it from going astray, I’m not so sure. Her pulse is beating hard on my monitor. “Then you’re fucked. I got the program from Sunny. She’s the only one whocan turn it off, and she needs to access it directly. She will go do that when you let her go.”

Pedro opens his mouth to say something, but the soft echo of shoes on hardwood silences the man’s retort.

From the shadows of the hallway, a man steps into the room, adjusting the cuff of his tailored jacket like he’s just left a board meeting.

Harper inhales sharply like she knows him.

And she might. I certainly do.

Preston lifts his head to look right at her. Right at me. That small kernel of trust I’ve been nursing for weeks crumbles into dust.

“She gets that streak from her mother, not her father. Though, if memory serves, your father was always the one who signedmychecks.”

37

HARPER

Irecognize that salted blonde hair and those stern blue eyes immediately.

Not from some chance encounter in the office.

Not from the pool of friends he had over our house when I was younger.

No, this man is from the photos in my dad’s files.

And the picture Grant has in his office—the one with Dad, Grant, Trent, Oliver, and a pair of investors from when they built the firm. They were all in glossy suits, stationed in front of Grant’s office, and the men were young and proud…