CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“If we do this, there’s no going back,” Josh Hawke said.
Daniel tapped his fingers on the table. Finally, he’d received a call back from them with some information. Unfortunately, the news wasn’t great. They had nothing to use that would help with the blackmail.
So they were stepping things up to another level.
“No, there isn’t,” Daniel said.
Josh was right. It was a big fucking deal to wire a senator's office. But then again, it was a big fucking deal to extort the CEO of a hotel dynasty into marrying your daughter, and Daniel was not in a merciful or law-abiding mood.
Not after what he’d seen this morning.
He’d gone for an early morning run along Waikiki, past the aquarium and up to Diamond Head—only the entrance, not the top—and back. Cooling down, he’d walked the last few blocks. When he’d neared the entrance to the hotel, Daniel had seen a man standing with a woman. He had his arm around her shoulders and was grinning down at her.
The woman was laughing.
His woman.
Harper may have been in a hat and sunglasses, but he knew her body. Inside and out.
Every fucking inch of it.
Daniel’s fists had clenched, and his blood boiled as he watched the man, and his two friends vie for Harper's attention.
It had been three days.
Three fucking days.
Not that she owed him anything. Harper was fucking gorgeous—what did he think was going to happen? That she’d walk around Hawaii crying over him?
Fuck. Yeah, he had.
God, he was an asshole.
She had every right to enjoy her holiday and be with whoever she wanted.
Daniel didn’t have to be happy about it though, and he wasn’t. Five times he’d picked up his phone to text her. And say what?
I’m sorry, I think I’m in love with you. But oh yeah, I can’t be with you, anyway.
So he’d punched the living fuck out of his boxing bag for starters and messaged Josh, saying they needed to talk.
Unless he could get some evidence, there was foul play here, and unless he married this fucking woman, the Dufort Dynasty was in financial jeopardy. They would lose board members. Their shares would drop, and it could mean selling properties.
He would not let that happen.
So that left marrying Nadia fucking Mackenzie for five years. Then he would be free.
But he’d lose Harper.
No, he’d already lost Harper. Hadn’t he?
And is that what he wanted? Harper. In his life. In New York.
Jesus.
Was he serious about her?