“I recently purchased a gold-encrusted sword that once belonged to Napoleon.”

She remained silent.

“What do you enjoy when you aren’t working?” he persisted.

“Spending time with my family, who I hate seeing threatened.”

His brows pulled low, and she knew she was definitely trying his patience. She blew out a breath. “Watching renovation shows.”

He arched a brow. “Renovation?”

She guessed criminal masterminds probably didn’t get involved in renovations. “Yes. Rehabbing old homes.”

“You’d like to do that one day?”

“Yes.” She risked a quick glance at Easton’s table.

The female lawyer had her hand on his arm, leaning in close.

Oh yes, Mr. Norcross. Whatever you want, Mr. Norcross. Harlow’s hand clenched hard on the stem of her wine glass.

“But you gave your father all your money.”

Her gaze flashed back to Antoine.

He smiled. “I could help make that dream a reality. And make your father’s debt disappear. All you have to do is agree to be mine.”

His slave. To sell herself. Let him put his ugly hands on her.

“No, thank you.”

Their meal arrived, but Harlow wasn’t hungry. She didn’t think she’d be able to swallow a mouthful of the pasta.

As Antoine talked with the server, she looked away.

And her gaze collided with a furious blue one.

She sucked in a breath.

Easton glared at her across the restaurant, his gaze shifting to Antoine, then moving back to her. Harlow felt the punch of his anger across the distance between them.

Chapter Six

Easton’s hands balled into fists under the table. He heard Helena, the lawyer from Peregrine, droning on.

But his full attention was on Harlow.

Rage welled in him. She was sitting there, looking beautiful, with Antoine fucking Armand.

“Easton?” Helena said.

“Sorry, go on,” he muttered.

He glanced back at Harlow. He saw panic on her face before she hid it.

Armand said something to her, and Easton watched repulsion cross her features. When she rose and headed for the restrooms, Easton stood abruptly.

The lawyers he was with all startled.

“Restroom,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

He strode across the restaurant, intent on his target. He walked into the narrow hall leading to the restrooms. There was no sign of her.

He spotted a small, darkened alcove nearby. He leaned against the wall and waited. While he did, he tried to keep a lid on the volcanic temper writhing in his chest.

Usually, he was a cool, controlled man. Harlow seemed to bring his temper to boil faster than anyone he knew.

He waited, and finally the door to the ladies’ opened.

Harlow stepped out. Easton guessed she thought she’d dressed down. She had no idea just how that deceptively simple black dress hugged her body, loving every sweet curve. Need was a vicious twist in his gut.

Her hair was pinned up, a few strands tickling along the line of her neck.