“No! Because of me you got shot at, and had to beat up two guys, and it’s not over yet. You and Vander are spending a fortune to protect me and find my father—”

Easton made an annoyed sound. “I don’t care about any of that. You don’t think when you make an acerbic comment about how rich I am, or how I work too hard, I don’t feel like laughing? You don’t think when you smile, I don’t feel the warmth?”

Her pulse went crazy. Oh, God.

“You don’t think when I’m deep inside you, I don’t feel happy?”

Harlow’s mouth dropped open. His words hit her in her heart, but— “Easton, your mother is standing right there!” Heat flooded her cheeks.

“My mother knows her kids have sex.”

Clara laughed softly. “And she has sex, too.”

Easton’s face froze, then he winced. “Ma, not another word.” He refocused on Harlow and cupped her cheeks. “You don’t think when you sleep pressed against me, I don’t feel fucking everything?”

“Easton, language,” Clara said quietly.

He ignored his mom.

Harlow swallowed, her chest about to burst. “My father—”

“You are not your father. You’re not responsible for his actions, or his mess.” Easton pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re beautiful, smart, hard-working—”

“You should be with someone extraordinary. Some gorgeous woman with four degrees, who speaks French and Italian, who started her own business and turned it into a multimillion-dollar empire with her intelligence, grit, and savvy.”

“I don’t want your imaginary perfect woman, Harlow, I want you.” He nipped her lips. “You see me. You see Easton. You don’t see my bank account, or my position, or my influence. You’re about as easy to give anything to as hugging a hedgehog.”

Harlow sniffed. “Hedgehogs are cute.”

His lips quirked. “You’re mine now.”

She melted against him. She could only put up so much of a fight, and she had no defenses against Easton Norcross.

“And you can always learn French and Italian.”

She elbowed him.

“Wonderful.” Clara clapped her hands together, her face filled with satisfaction. “Now, time for dessert.” She pulled a tray of cannoli out of the fridge.

Harlow met Easton’s gaze and he ran his finger down her nose. Then he tugged her back into the dining room.

She ate until her skirt waistband was digging into her skin.

“Time to go home,” Easton murmured.

Home. Together.

“Harlow,” Gia said. “We’re doing drinks tomorrow. It’s Saturday, and you need to destress.”

“How about we go to Charmaine’s?” Haven suggested.

Oh, Harlow had only been to the funky rooftop bar once, and loved it.

Easton leaned forward. “I want Harlow safe until the issues with her father are sorted. No going out.”

Thinking of her father made Harlow’s contentment from the evening dim.

“Fine,” Gia said, undeterred. “Drinks at Easton’s bar.”