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22
Ronan
Those assholes have had Harper at the club for over an hour now, and not once have they texted or called me to check-in. They’re lucky I have access to the security cameras. They seem to be behaving for now.
I stare at my computer screen and watch Harper sitting in the booth while Mac is at the bar getting drinks. She isn’t even doing anything, yet I can’t bring myself to look away. Mac was right about the dress Finn bought her. She is fucking stunning. Not a single other woman in Kings holds a candle to her.
I’m both annoyed and in awe of how she looks tonight. I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye to them before they left. As soon as I saw her, I knew I would change my mind and want to join them. I need to keep my distance. But that sure as shit didn’t stop me from obsessively staring at her through Kings’ security cameras.
Every man’s eyes were on her the second she walked through the doors. Meanwhile, I resisted the urge to gouge out the eyes of anyone who looked at her. Her creamy skin was the perfect contrast to that goddamn dress. It clung to her every curve and left little to the imagination while the club lights reflected off every sparkle. What I would give to run my fingers through her unruly curls and pull them out of the bun on top of her head. And fuck me, those heels. Her already long legs seemed to go on for miles in those heels. I gotta give Finn credit. He did good. Too damn good.
I don’t think Harper realizes how beautiful she is. How sexy she is. She commands all the attention in the room by just existing.
Mac’s still at the bar getting drinks when I notice Harper slide out of their booth and make her way toward the dance floor. I instantly tense, not wanting her to go anywhere alone. “No, Baby. Wait for the guys,” I whisper to myself, willing her to hear me across town.
Harper finds an empty spot on the dance floor and begins swaying her hips to the beat of the music. “Fuuuuck,” I sigh, wiping a hand down my face as I feel myself getting hard. I could watch this all fucking day.
“Focus, Ronan,” I snap.
Neither Mac nor Finn seems to have noticed that she left the booth, and she’s starting to grab the attention of some men around her. I grab my phone to call Mac and Finn, hoping one of them will answer, but both of their phones ring out.
“I’m really going to kill the two of them.”
Fisting my hands, I continue watching Harper through the security cameras. Another minute passes, and the song must change because everyone starts moving their bodies slower while simultaneously getting close to their partners.
Shit.
It’s only a matter of time before…
I don’t even have a chance to finish my thought before it comes to fruition. Some sleazy-looking motherfucker wraps his arm around Harper’s waist. “Fuck!” Slamming my fist onto my desk, I stand up from my chair. That’s it. I can’t sit here anymore.
“Fuck this.” I’m not going to sit behind a goddamn computer and watch this shit happen when I could be there, protecting her. I need to get to the club. I don’t wait to see what happens. Grabbing my suit jacket off the back of the chair, I move towards the elevator, willing the rage that’s boiling inside me not to explode once I see Harper. She makes me so fucking mad it’s hard to even look at her sometimes. At the same time, I only want to hold her in my arms where she’s safe—two sides of the same damn coin.
I’m about to push the button for the elevator when it dings and opens in front of me.
“Hello, Son.”
I blink in confusion. He only shows up here if he needs something. This should be good.
“Dad.”
“We need to talk.” I don’t have time for this. I need to get to Harper.
“Actually, can it wait? I have something I need to take care of. It’s…”
“Now.” He snaps as he interrupts me. “Whatever it is needs to wait.”
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I need to know what that asshole is doing to her. Did she push him away? Did Mac and Finn come back and find her? Is he hurting her?
That last thought is enough to make me break out in a sweat. But I can’t leave. I can’t go back to my computer. Because what dear old dad wants, he gets. Whether I like it or not. “Alright. Ummm, come on in,” I mumble, pissed off with him already.
Dad slides past me and makes his way toward the bar, where I know he’s about to pour himself a double. If he’s pouring himself a drink, I know this conversation is bound to piss me right the hell off. What else is new?
I turn to follow him but pause. Looking up at the ceiling, I whisper, “Harper, you better be okay.”
