Page 29 of Daddies Dark Desires (Forbidden Fantasies)
Fuck.
It has to be, and now, they know she’s found it. That she’s taking the same steps her father did, and it’s going to get her killed along with him.
She’s still a target.
11
HARPER
Holy shit. I actually found what I’ve been looking for. I think. You know, if the encryption on these files indicates anything.
Maybe not though. It was far too easy to tunnel my way in—pre-programmed bug or not.
I’m downloading them onto a flash drive and trying not to overthink what I’m doing. This is diligence. Going to the right person. That’s all.
Right?
A little bit of luck.
Anything else is crazy, right? It’s not like someone laid a trail. A trap. Why would they? How would they know where I planned to look? How I planned to get in?
Shaking my head, I exit out of the program I’m using. Thank you old friend from college for the assist! It had to be his skill that got me here so quickly.
Ejecting the thumb drive, I log out of the computer and back away.
I didn’t use my computer of course. That would be stupid. Especially for this.
Dropping the thing in a hidden pocket of my bag, I toss it over my shoulder and head down to the small cafe-slash-cafeteria to meet Sunny. I’m only fifteen minutes late, but that means the lines are short and I can snag an easy slice of pizza and slide into a seat beside my new friend.
“Hey.” She beams up at me as I plop my bag between my feet. “I texted you.”
“Yeah. Phone’s still in my desk drawer. Sorry about that.” I smile and wink at Kyle, who’s leaned in pretty close to Sunny’s chair.
I’m guessing that crush goes both ways. Not that I blame them. Sunny is the epitome of sunshine—golden blonde hair, bright sky-blue eyes, and her smile. Pure innocence.
Until she finds herself a man to look at or a computer to hack.
Kyle pushes up his thick glasses and nods at me before digging into the second half of his sandwich. He brings it from home, and it always smells good. I’m betting he’s got a good mom or a nanny who packs that for him.
The Ralph Lauren designer shirt screams nanny. Maid. Someone who works for his parents.
Anyway, I’m envious.
I bet Sunny could get him to bring an extra helping of whatever he’s packed every day. She underestimates the power of her womanhood.
Most men expect me to take what I want. To ask for it if I can’t simply take it. And for the most part, that’s true.
But not always. Sometimes, it’s nice for someone to know what I want and to give it to me without any prompting. Before I even know what I want.
Shaking myself free of those thoughts, because let’s face it, I’ll roll right off the diving board into fantasies about Trent, Grant, and Oliver.
Those three have gotten under my skin in the weeks I’ve been working here. It’s becoming a bit outrageous.
Sunny beams at me, lighting up from the inside, but it’s tinged with naughtiness. It’s like she can read my mind. Or maybe that’s the training on body language and pupil dilation we had the other morning.
All stuff I knew already, but the brush up was probably necessary for most of the attendees.
I grin back at her, taking a big bite of my mushroom pizza. They don’t do too bad with this. I think the crust is made in-house. From scratch is always better than that frozen stuff.
