10: Locke.

A destructive urge to kick over a table catches me off-guard. The only thing that stops me from doing it is Harriet's reaction to the man. Immediately, she steps back from him, shaking her head. There is no flirtatious smile, no sparkle in her eyes. Not like she gives me. Is it only for me? Please. Please let it only be for me. I'm not sure what I'll do if it isn't. One thing is for certain, though. She's not interested in the tech bro. She almost seems hostile toward him, a flash of something wild dancing across her face. Dangerous.

I don't have time to explore that expression or if it's a window into the soul of Harriet, the real Harriet, because I reach the pair and step between them.

My hands move on their own, landing on his chest and shoving him back several feet. "It's not happening, asshole," I growl through my teeth. "Don't ever talk to her again."

Oh Christ, it feels painfully good.

Claiming Harriet.

Taking ownership.

It's a shameful thing to enjoy. Women are independent bei