Page 27 of Daddies Dark Desires (Forbidden Fantasies)
Harper is up to something.
If I hadn’t planted the upgraded tracker in her favorite bag, I wouldn’t know because she left her phone locked in her desk. Since she knows that can be tracked, I can only imagine what she’s getting into.
What would she think if she knew I’d bugged more of her things than she could fathom? That trip into her house when her and her mother weren’t home allowed for some generally creative plants for spying on her.
And I will keep tabs. Watch every move she makes.
The new views and easy access has made me more obsessive than before, spending my nights watching her sleep and my mornings watching her brush her teeth and make coffee.
I’ve followed her into the stacks twice, even though Grant caught her there before, I don’t mention it. Whatever she thinks is in there isn’t, or we’d know already. But if it keeps her occupied and not digging herself into danger, I’ll keep it to myself.
Harper has gotten sneakier though. Excusing herself to the bathroom then sneaking off to search.
Yesterday, she spent her lunch break with the files, going through five file boxes before she put everything back and slipped back to her desk. Her precision in leaving things the exact way she found them is impressive.
If she wasn’t an intern, I’d tell Grant and Trent to prepare her to go undercover. She’s too good at this. I shouldn’t have expected anything less from Ryan’s daughter.
How long until she figures out that she has to look somewhere else?
Not very if my instincts and her change in habits is any indication.
Her detours keep anyone from interrupting her, but even I can see the suspicion on Sunny’s face when she returns. They typically spend lunch together with a few of the other interns, and as much as I appreciate the girl’s savviness on the computer—she rivals my skills at her age—the way she talks at hyper speed has me zoning out to Harper’s expressions.
After a week of odd behavior, I follow her more closely in the office than I would normally.
As much as I should call her out for snooping, I won’t. I want her to find what she’s looking for before I intervene. She thinks differently than we do. She might do what we haven’t been able to.
Her exasperation turns her to my system this afternoon. And she’s not using her own computer. Not that it makes it any harder to follow her movements.
It might have had I not made a front row seat for myself. One that gets a three-quarter shot of her from the waist up. That shirt is loose around her collar, flapping open to give me a side view of her breast and lilac lace bra.
I watched her put it on this morning. I’ll watch her peel it off tonight.
Worse, I ache to have them in my hands.
She’s in my system, and I’m surprised by her skill. She logs on with someone else’s credentials—ones that I don’t recognize. Could she have created one on her own? Did she badger Leonard for access or trick him into revealing someone’s information that she shouldn’t have access to?
This is why I should watch her constantly. In the office or not.
Sure, she’s always on my monitors, but with my other work, I can’t keep my eyes on her as much as I would like.
Let’s face it, when I’m not watching, I’m thinking about it.
I bring up a mirror of her keystrokes and screen on the monitor beside my view of her bent over the keyboard.
She must have copied a code because she’s piggybacking off someone else’s clearance. Or did I leave that open without meaning to?
Her path clears, and cold drenches my back, sitting me up straighter.
La Sangre Nueva.
No, she shouldn’t be able to get into this.
My security program for this part of the system pings. And I’m both proud and concerned that she’s gained access to this. Someone has had to help her.
Sunny?
They haven’t talked about it. Texted about it. They don’t meet after work, and they wouldn’t talk about it at lunch with all the potential to be overheard.
