Daddy
Right now, I won’t ask her more about her plans or lies or the key.
I just want to be with her.
But soon, she’ll need to come clean or find herself back over daddy’s lap again.
Our trip to the spa was short, as we were pressed for time, but the staff accommodated us, and entire team seeing to her every need at once. Her hair gleams as it falls down her back, her nails are painted, her silky skin moisturized and massaged. I brought her back to her place to change and collect her luggage.
My pretty baby looks so beautiful in her blush pink dress. The silky fabric is the same shade that her cheeks turn when I call her my good girl. She loves that.
Her dark hair tumbles over her shoulders as she leans down to slip on the shoes I know she’s wanted for years. I saw her fakes at the club. Clever girl, but she won’t need to be making knock-offs anymore.
She’s mine.
She can have whatever she wants.
Anything.
She only has to ask.
I grab her wrist, stopping her. “Allow me,” I say.
“I can put on my own shoes, daddy.” She straightens up, watching me with wide eyes.
“I know you can, kitten, but I want to do it for you.” I drop to one knee before her. I slide my hand up her leg, leaving a trail of kisses from her mid-calf to the soft skin behind her knee.
Gently, I wrap my fingers around her ankle, slipping her freshly manicured toes into the shoe.
I do the same with the other foot.
I stand, looking down at her. “You look…perfect. So beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Her voice is a whisper. She can go from sassy to shy in the blink of an eye.
“Come here, baby.” I reach for her.
She comes into me, wrapping her arms around my chest.
She looks up at me and my heart catches in my throat. Her eyes shine with trust and desire and wanting. I lean down to kiss her.
She whispers the words, “I barely know you.”
“I feel like I’ve known you forever.” As my lips meet hers, the world seems to melt away and the only thing left of the Earth is what I’m holding inside my arms.
My phone blares, interrupting the perfect moment. Damn it all to hell…
I take it from my pocket. “Hello?”
It’s my driver. He’ll take us to the jet, then circle back with another staff member to take the Bentley back to my house. I want to sit in the backseat with my babygirl for the ride.
“Sir,” he says, “we need to leave now. The jet is ready and waiting.”
“Be right down.” I slip my phone back into my pocket and ask Reece, “Are you packed?”
“Yes. The Steamline luggage set you sent is carefully packed and ready to go. Thank you, by the way. Everything you sent was gorgeous.” She gives me a shy smile. “I’ve never had nice things before. I’ll go grab my stuff.” She turns to go retrieve her bags.
I grab her arm to stop her. “Daddy has rules about that.”
“About what?” Her brows knit, confused. “My bags?”
“About you carrying your bags.” I shoot her a disapproving look and shake my head. “That’s not allowed.”
A slow smile spreads over her pretty face. “I like that.”
“I know,” I say.
My girl loves to be taken care of. And I love being the one to take care of her.
On the drive to the airport, she rides snuggled up against my side. I take the opportunity to wrap my arm protectively around her shoulders. I can’t stop leaning down to kiss the top of her head.
Her hair smells of strawberries and Reece.
When we get to the private airport, she can’t believe the opulence of the jet. She oohs and ahhs over the deep cushiony tan leather seats, the wide windows she’ll be able to watch the sky from, the sharply dressed attendants who wait to serve our every need and want.
We take our seats and to my surprise and immense pleasure, she curls right back up against me. She slips her heels off, tucking her feet underneath her.
I wrap my arm around her. “I can’t wait to show you the city.”
“I’ve never been out of the country,” she says.
“Really?” I ask
“Really.” She looks up at me from underneath her lashes. “Honestly? I’ve never even been out of the state.”
This surprises me. Her father was constantly on the move with his accounts—I know he’d go to the Cayman’s multiple times a year—and without a mother in the picture, wouldn’t she have gone with him at times?
“Your father traveled a lot for work. Didn’t he ever take you with him?” I ask. I lift her hand to my lips, kissing each of her fingers.
“No, not really.” Secrets hide in her gaze. She looks away.
Maybe I do want some answers right now. “Why not?”
“He was busy with business when he traveled.”
I press on. “Who did you stay with when he was traveling?”
“Um, you know.” She gives a little shrug, offering no other information.
I tighten my hold, running my fingers down the back of her arm. “No, I don’t. That’s why I’m asking.”
She sighs, staring out the window of the jet. “Okay, so when he was traveling, I’d—”
“Warm towel?” A flight attendant holds a white towel between silver tongs. She gives a wide smile.
“Sure.” I take one, handing it to Reece, then take one for myself. I want the flight attendant to leave, I want to hear what Reece was going to say, but she stands there, waiting for us to finish freshening up with our towels. Reece wipes her pretty fingers on the towel, then holds it, unsure of what to do with it.
“I’ll take that.” The flight attendant retrieves our towels and walks away.
When she’s out of earshot, I ask again. “Who did you stay with?”
Reece looks down at her fingers, playing with them as she thinks.
I wait patiently, holding her close.
“There’s something you should know, Bryant.” She takes a deep breath as if she’s unsure she wants to continue the conversation. “About my dad.”
She already had my attention, but now I’m hanging on her every word. What does she want to tell me about her father? I give her a moment to clarify without me pushing, but she doesn’t. I’m just about to press her for more when another flight attendant arrives at our seats.
“Champagne?” the attendant asks. She holds a tray with two sparkling flutes of bubbly.
“I don’t know.” I eye Reece, try to lighten the situation. “Are you old enough?”
“Plenty.” She holds her hand out to the flight attendant. “Yes, please.”
“Not so fast.” I take her hand and lower it back down to her lap. “You didn’t ask daddy’s permission.”
Her cheeks go that deep, lovely pink I’ve grown so fond of. She eyes the flight attendant then mouths to me, “Are you serious?”
“Very.”
Her eyes drop to her lap and she twists her fingers nervously. Her words come out in a whisper, but obediently they come. “Daddy, may I have champagne?”
“Certainly, baby.” I give the flight attendant a nod. Professional as always, my staff member hands them to me without comment.
I hand one to Reece and keep one to myself. I hold my glass up in the air. “Cheers. To your first trip out of the state.”
She looks at me like she doesn’t know if she wants to kiss me or slap me, but she echoes my toast, holding up her glass. “Cheers.”
Reece watches the attendant as she walks away. Once Reece is sure she’s out of earshot, she hisses at me. “Why do you always make me do such embarrassing things?” She washes her question down with an agitated gulp of champagne.
“Because, kitten.” I rest my hand on her upper thigh, giving it a stroke and a light squeeze. “You love it.”
Her mouth falls open in an attempt to defend herself, then snaps shut.
Daddy’s right.
Daddy’s always right.
I slide my hand further up her dress. My, this silky fabric feels so nice under my fingers. It’s thin enough I can feel the heat from her skin through it.
“Now, spill your secrets.” I say. “What do you need to tell me about your dad?”
She eyes me, unsure if she wants to divulge. I dig my fingertips into that soft flesh of her upper inner thigh.
Suddenly, she’s ready to speak.
“What do you want to know?” she asks. Her legs part, her lips part, her lids grow heavy as I stroke the very highest part of her thigh, just out of reach of her sex.
“Haven’t I made myself clear?” I inch up further, teasing her sex over her clothing. “Daddy wants to know everything.”
“Fine.” She gives a shuddering breath, her eyes closing as I stroke the seam of her sex. “The truth is…he’s not my real dad.”
What?
My fingers freeze.
In all my research, it was made clear to me that Matthew Sheffield, of Sheffield and Sutherland Law, was her father. I never saw a birth certificate and her last name is Bright, but I chalked it up to the fact that her parents were never together and they generally give the baby the mom’s last name in that situation.
If Matthew Sheffield isn’t her father, who is he?
And why did he have her key?