Harlow paused, savoring the image of Easton working at the stove, not wearing a shirt. Mmm.

“Harlow?”

“Right. Um, I don’t have any clothes.”

“Yes, you do. I asked Gia to get some things from your place. They’re in the closet.” He stroked her cheek. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Harlow dried off, wrapped herself in her towel, and headed into his closet. She moaned. It was simply amazing. She touched his shirts and suits, and strode down the long closet. Then she jerked to a halt.

Her clothes were hanging on the other side. She blinked. All her clothes. Gia had brought everything Harlow owned.

She also found her skin care and makeup. And her hair dryer.

She wasn’t sure if she should thank Easton’s sister, or be mad that she’d practically moved Harlow in.

Right. Well, at the moment, she needed to get ready for work. She flicked through her skirts. She needed a pick-me-up today. Harlow selected her favorite Max Mara pencil skirt in blood red. She paired it with a thin, black belt, and a long-sleeved black shirt. Next, she reentered Easton’s gorgeous master bathroom and dried her hair. She decided to leave it down for a change. After her makeup was done, she completed the look with a pair of Jimmy Choos with a cute ankle strap.

She headed down the grand staircase, reality poking at her again.

How could she possibly get her dad out of this mess? If her mother found out what was happening, she’d have a breakdown.

Harlow stepped into the living area and kitchen. Easton was standing at the island wearing a navy-blue suit and a blue shirt that brought out his eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat. He was just so male. She just stared at him, taking him in.

He sipped his coffee, then looked her way. He paused, his gaze running over her—from the top of her head, down her body to her shoes, and back to her face.

“That outfit tempts me to convince you to make another mistake before we go to work.”

“I look professional,” she said.

“Sexy professional.” His gaze lingered on her skirt. “It’s one thing to imagine what you look like under those skirts while I’m at work, it’s another to actually know.”

“No sexy thoughts at work.”

He made a deep sound. “Impossible. I now also know what sounds you make when you come on my cock.”

She gasped.

He skirted the island and poured coffee from a carafe, then pulled a plate out of the oven. It held a perfectly cooked omelet.

He nudged her toward one of the stools at the island and she sat, suddenly overwhelmed. “Thank you.”

She couldn’t remember the last time someone had cooked her breakfast.

He cupped her face. “You’ll get through this, Harlow. I’m right here with you.”