“I’ve got Ace on it,” a third voice said. “It’d be easier if he could see her phone. He’ll be able to track her more easily.”

Harlow stepped into the doorway.

Easton leaned against his desk, with his arms crossed over his chest. His face looked like a thundercloud. Vander and another man—a tall, handsome man with blond-brown hair stood beside him. Saxon Buchanan was Vander’s best friend and right-hand man at Norcross Security. He was also engaged to Easton and Vander’s sister, Gia.

“What’s going on?” Harlow asked.

The men spun fast. Easton straightened, his gaze burning into hers. “Where the hell have you been?”

Chapter Five

Easton fought down the knot of emotions in his chest. He grabbed Harlow’s arm and towed her out of his office.

“Hey,” she cried. “Easton—”

“Quiet.” She was safe. He reminded himself of that.

He shoved open the door to the conference room and pulled her in.

“Let me go,” she snapped.

“Where the hell did you go? Are you all right?”

She strode to the long, glossy table, then spun. “I’m not yours to worry about.”

He stalked toward her and she backed up two steps. He pinned her against the table.

He knew he was coming on too strong, but that hour she’d been gone… His jaw worked. She had no idea of what people like Armand were capable of.

“You don’t get to manhandle people.” Her eyes sparked. “Even if you are Easton Norcross.”

She twisted, her body brushing against his.

He felt his body respond and clamped down on that reaction. “Harlow—”

“Easton,” she snapped back.

He gripped her hips. “I want to help you.” Keep you safe.

She stilled, shadows in her eyes. “No one can help me. I’ll fix this.”

“It’s your father’s mess to fix.”

She stilled, her eyes widening. “You know.” Her voice was a whisper.

He didn’t respond, fighting the urge to slip his fingers into the waistband of that maddening skirt and touch her skin.

“Of course, you know,” she said, resigned. “You’re Easton Norcross.”

“I asked Vander to do some searching.”

Her lips pressed together and she looked at the floor. “So, you have all the ugly details.”

“I know your father made some stupid mistakes, and he’s in debt to a bad person.”

She laughed, but there was nothing humorous in it.

“I want to help,” Easton said.

Her gaze met his, her chin lifted. “I’m fixing it.”

His gaze narrowed. “How? Do you know who Antoine Armand is?”

A faint grimace crossed her face.

“Let me enlighten you, Harlow. Armand was born and raised in the South of France. He was the son of a wealthy businessman, and eventually took over the business. It’s said he poisoned his father to speed up that process.”

She jolted.