Page 25 of Daddies Dark Desires (Forbidden Fantasies)
“Get in the car, Harper.”
My mouth purses. It’s not a request, and the brat in me wants to fight him about it. I’m perfectly safe taking the train home as I have every single day of my adult life and half of my childhood.
But another other part of me—a deeper part—keeps me from pushing back this time. Instead, I turn back to the man still holding onto me. “Let go, or I’ll make you wish you did.”
When he glances back to Trent for confirmation, I slam my heel down on the top of his foot. And not the protected part. Not the bit with the steel toe or rubber.
No, the part where the shoe ties together.
My heels are sturdy. Pointy. Made from the same steel most work boots are lined with.
I don’t have many moves. But my dad taught me a few things. Most of them utilize the element of surprise with the worst damage possible.
I totally get it. I’m small. Smaller than the majority of men in this world.
It’s why I always try to make myself seem bigger with my personality. Call me a brat if you want. A bitch. I’ll take everything I’m owed.
Not being manhandled by some yes man is one of those things I’m owed. No one gets to touch me without my permission.
The string of swear words that falls out of this dude’s mouth is almost comical. His hand releases me, and I easily step out of his grasp.
Only to walk into Trent’s. He cups my waist, cinching tight, and I’m hoisted into the waiting car.
I squirm, but I can’t fight. Not really. It’s Trent. I stand no chance against him.
Besides, he would never hurt me. My body doesn’t respond that way to him.
Trent plops me down on the smooth leather and turns back to his man, murmuring low. I hate being talked about. Apologized for because I’m a woman with an attitude and how dare that interrupt the lives of men.
I cross my arms. “You’d better not be apologizing for me. I amnot sorry.” I raise my voice to be sure the guy hears me, and Trent closes us into the back.
He’s too close, and I scoot over in my seat.
It’s dim inside, darker with the black out divider from the front seat and the heavily tinted windows. It screams prestige. Danger. Money.
The darkness makes this seem even more intimate. I lean away to give myself a better vantage point out of the corner of my eye. A better view of the man who just stashed me away in a car like it was nothing.
It’s hard not to be overwhelmed by his presence. Alone. Trapped in a small space.
The scent of him is all male—like grease and spice. The same way my dad smelled, but…better.
He’s so god damn big, especially when he crosses his arms and pegs me with a glance.
We stew in silence until the car starts and we’re on the road.
“Why were you in the file room?”
Busted. Damn it, I should have known. They’re colluding against me. “What file room?”
Trent lets out a breath through his nostrils. I swear he’s got some big predator DNA in his genetics somewhere. Lion. Tiger. Bear.
“Harper.” His voice is dangerously soft. It would have been easier to have him yell. Then, I could get angry and yell back. Misdirect. But he knows that. “Don’t play with me.”
I turn fully to peer up at him, so much taller than me even seated. Tattoos trail out of the rolled-up fabric around his elbows. His skin is bronze and tanned, dark hair thick on his forearms, but still, ink highlights every inch of skin up to his wrist.
All of it can be carefully hidden behind his shirt sleeve if he chooses.
Even with them covered up, every bit of him is intimidating.
