Page 37 of Daddies Dark Desires (Forbidden Fantasies)
“We keep surveilling until something else changes.”
Trent slams his fist on the desk, rattling the keyboard Oliver is typing on and making the other man pause to look at him, pointedly. “Yeah, well, surveillance will do her a whole lot of good if someone breaks into her place and one of us isn’t there.”
“We can have someone there in minutes.” Especially if Oliver keeps up his late-night vigilance.
Trent leans closer, the intensity in him flashing with menace. “A lot can happen in minutes.”
The low growl of his voice elicits disturbing thoughts. The kinds of things I’ve completed in less time. A couple of minutes is a smorgasbord of delight to a twisted fuck. And if someone plans well and has the means, they could capture her and take her to a secondary location without much fuss.
Our only saving grace then would be Oliver’s ability to track them. And if they’ve gotten away with invading his safeguards once, piggybacked on his hacking, then who’s to say they can’t hinder his ability to keep an eye on her when they strike.
No. I can’t allow that possibility.
“We can set her and her mom up in a safehouse.” But even as I say it, I know that’s not viable. None of them are safe enough for her. Not for Harper.
And Samantha would never let us uproot her busy life for a potential threat. Even to her daughter.
“We take her back to our place. It’s the most secure, and you both know it.” Trent is adamant. His persistence grating against my long-ago won calm.
Why does the mere thought of Harper in danger have my hackles raised so high? The idea of her in my home for the foreseeable future poking holes in the steadfast rule that makes her off limits.
If we let her in, barriers are going to crumble. I can already see it.
I wipe a hand down my face and look at the ceiling for some divine intervention to divert where my thoughts spiral. “Fine. Go take her to gather her things. I’ll have a new phone and laptop waiting for her. And we’ll reinforce the fortress.”
Trent doesn’t hesitate; he about faces and goes for Harper.
I turn back to the monitors as Oliver works. He’s already pulled up the internal camera for the office, tracking Trent’s movements as he lets himself into my office to retrieve a very feisty Harper.
She slams a fist against his chest as he holds her bag and phone hostage. Even without being able to hear their exchange, I can imagine her voice calling him an asshole, ordering him to give her things back, that she’s not going anywhere with him unless he asks her nicely.
They face off in the elevator, her hands on her hips to make her seem bigger, but she’s so small compared to the three of us, exaggerated by the way Trent uses his bulk to tower over her—the same way I did when I caught her snooping the first time.
It drives heat into my gut because I know we’re all combating the same natural response. The one that wants to conquer her—not subdue her but to turn that flame into a weapon in our arsenal rather than snuffing it out.
Whatever he says to her gets her in the car without too much struggle. She sits with her arms crossed, staring out the window. The cold shoulder. Silent treatment. Harper is biding her time, working on a plan to regain control.
It won’t work.
The moment the car has pulled up to her house, she’s out the door, stomping up the steps like she’s forfeited her things to his possession and has simply settled on locking him out.
She slams the door toward his face, but his boot catches it.
Her screech must echo under those high ceilings because Trent breaks into a small smirk.
Fuck, the tension building between them as she yells and he keeps from falling into her emotional trap eats at me. She’s putting on a good show.
Trent points up to her room.Go pack a bag.
Her clearnohas him stepping forward, head tilting dangerously. It doesn’t look like it phases her much.
She’s fire, through and through.
I shouldn’t stand here watching her. I should trust him to handle it. But I don’t. I can’t.
This growing addiction keeps me glued to the screen, watching the tug-of-war unfold. Watching as she jabs a finger into his chest and talks with her whole body, combating for the control she’s so used to having.
It’s not going to help.
