Sheikh's Forbidden Conquest(63)

By: Chantelle Shaw


The guards roared the words at them, their attention fixed on Harrison. Frankie stuck her hands in the air, her heart slamming so violently against her chest she thought she might pass out. Her gaze sat frozen on the glare of the lights reflected off the silver barrels.

She tore her panicked gaze away finally, flicking it to Harrison, whose face had a bemused look on it. Instead of following the guard’s orders, he put his palms on his thighs and moved to straighten.

“I said put your hands in the air,” the guard bellowed, waving his gun at Harrison. “Now.”

Her boss put his suit-clad arms in the air in a slow, exaggerated movement. He might have acquiesced, but every muscle in his big body was tensed to revolt, his black gaze glittering. They sensed it, their eyes remaining trained on him. “Hands behind your back.”

The CEO’s mouth parted. “I think—”

“Hands behind your back.”

Her boss put his hands behind his back, a dark thundercloud stealing over his face. The guard closest to him holstered his gun, turned the CEO around with a careful appreciation of his powerful frame and snapped handcuffs around his wrists.

Oh, my God. Frankie’s frozen brain registered the guards now as Grant Industries security guards. But what were they doing arresting Harrison Grant?

The guard with his gun still drawn crooked a finger at Frankie. “Over here.”

The logical part of her brain told her she didn’t want anything to do with a man with a gun. Even one in uniform. Maybe these men were posing as Grant security guards. Maybe they wanted to rob them...

“Move,” the guard growled at her. Frankie’s behind left the chair in a hurry. She wasn’t sure how she did it because her legs were mush, but she wobbled over to where the guard stood, shaking so hard her teeth chattered. His partner pushed Harrison down in the chair she’d vacated.

“What happened?” the guard beside Frankie asked.

She gave him an uncomprehending look. ‘Wh-what do you mean? You just came tearing in here...”

“You hit the panic button.”

Panic button. What panic button? She vaguely remembered something in her training about an emergency button she could press if anything ever happened, but she’d laughed it off at the time, thinking it would be more useful for handling Coburn’s discarded girlfriends than an actual situation. Hers had been on the wall beside her desk.

Her gaze slid to the wall beside Tessa’s desk. No button.

“It’s under the desk on the left,” the guard said.

Under the desk? Her gaze slid to the big mahogany desk where her new boss sat handcuffed. A sick feeling enveloped her. She must have hit the button by mistake when Harrison walked in and startled her.

Oh, good lord.

The guard pointed at Harrison. “Pete said you were up here working alone. He had his hands on you when we arrived.”

Frankie’s stomach rolled. The guards were new. They’d changed to a different company last week. “He,” she clarified weakly, “is Harrison Grant, the CEO of this company. I hit the panic button by mistake.”

The guards assumed identical gray complexions. Harrison Grant’s expression moved from one of disbelief to an even darker countenance Frankie chose to avoid.

The guard beside her turned and surveyed the tall, elegant male in the chair dubiously. “You’re supposed to be abroad.”

Harrison’s dark-as-night eyes glittered back at him. “I parked underground and took the back elevators.”

“You don’t look like your picture.”

Frankie wanted to scream not to poke the beast. The glimmer in the CEO’s eyes turned deadly. “I can assure you that she,” he said, nodding his head at Frankie, “whoever she is, is telling the truth. Being the workaholic I am, I’ve acquired glasses since my last headshot.”

“You got some ID?”

Her boss dipped his chin. “Front pocket.”

The guard closest to Harrison retrieved his wallet from his jacket with a ginger movement that made Frankie hysterically wonder what he thought he’d do. Bite him? The man had his hands manacled behind his back. The guard flipped the wallet open, scanned it and went even grayer. Bile climbed the back of Frankie’s throat.

“Apologies for the confusion.” The guard slid the wallet back into Harrison’s pocket. “The situation you two were in, the bottle of wine, we read it wrong.”

Frankie’s gaze flew to the bottle of Pinot Grigio on the desk. Oh, heavens. The way Harrison had been leaning over her... They couldn’t possibly have thought this had been an assignation gone wrong...could they?

The grim look on her boss’s face suggested that’s exactly what they’d thought. He directed a laser-like stare at the guard. “You have exactly five seconds to get these cuffs off me.”