My First Daddy: A Dark Daddy Romance (Dark Daddies Book 7) Read online

  My First Daddy

  BB Hamel

  Contents

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  1. Avery

  2. Julian

  3. Avery

  4. Julian

  5. Avery

  6. Julian

  7. Avery

  8. Julian

  9. Avery

  10. Julian

  11. Avery

  12. Julian

  13. Avery

  14. Avery

  15. Julian

  16. Julian

  17. Avery

  Also by BB Hamel

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 by B. B. Hamel

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  1

  Avery

  Living alone in the city can be a drag sometimes.

  I pour myself a second glass of wine and stretch out on the couch. I watch the Bachelor jump a fence like an angry crybaby after getting dumped for, what, the fiftieth time this season? I’m almost starting to feel bad for him, to be totally honest. The guy is just getting crapped on all over.

  I can relate to that, actually. I haven’t really been living my best life these last few months. Really, this whole year has been a total drag, ever since graduating from Penn State and coming back to Philadelphia.

  My dad died two weeks after I got my degree. We knew it was coming for a long time, but that didn’t make it any easier. There’s always hope, lingering in the back of your mind, even when the days get really dark and nothing seems good, there’s still a drop of it, just waiting to fuck shit up.

  That hope wrecked me. Fuck that hope. It destroyed me, blindsided me, even when it was so obvious that my dad wasn’t going to pull through this time.

  So I came back to the city where I was born. I planned on moving somewhere else, maybe out to California, maybe to New York. I want to teach literature in a high school somewhere, but that’s taken a back seat ever since my whole life fell apart.

  I had to come home to help my mom take care of everything. She’s so lost without my dad and it’s pretty hard to see. I was living with her for a while but got my own place a few weeks back to try and kickstart my own life. Plus, she basically forced me out.

  So here I am, still grieving, still totally lost, alone in a city I never planned on returning to. I guess it’s not so bad. I have some money saved up, plus some money my dad left me, although I feel gross touching a penny of that. Still, I have no job, no prospects, and it feels like I’m not going to find anything anytime soon.

  That’s why I’m on my second glass of wine and rolling my eyes at The Bachelor. I guess you can’t really blame me, right?

  “Moron,” I grumble to myself. I unlock my phone and scroll through Twitter, reading some of the reactions. For a second, I feel a tiny bit less alone.

  And then it starts to ring in my hand.

  I stare at the number. I don’t recognize it, but it’s kind of late for a telemarketer. I sigh and decide to answer, just because I’m bored enough.

  “Hello?”

  A man clears his throat. “Hello, Avery?”

  I hesitate. His voice is deep and smooth, like he belongs on the radio. “Yes, this is her. Who’s this?”

  “Hi, Avery. You probably don’t remember me. My name is Julian White.”

  I furrow my brow. The name does sound a little familiar. I remember someone talking about a Julian, a friend from high school…

  Oh my god. My dad’s friend Julian.

  I used to call him Uncle Julian. Well, I was really young back then. I haven’t seen Julian in a really long time, and I can barely remember him. My dad always had nice things to say, even after they lost touch and grew apart. I think I vaguely remember my dad mentioning that Julian works in publishing somehow.

  “I think I remember,” I say.

  He sounds pleased. “I haven’t seen you since you were… oh, god, ten, maybe?”

  “Probably,” I say. “I called you Uncle Julian back then.”

  He laughs a little. “Yeah, that was your dad’s idea. He thought it might make me want to have kids of my own.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Not at all.”

  I find myself smiling a little bit, despite this conversation. I’ve had this conversation before, old friends of dad’s calling me up to tell me how sorry they are, to talk about my father, to tell me stories about him. I hate this conversation, but I know I have to have it.

  “Well, how are you?” I ask him.

  “I’m doing good. Look, Avery, I’m sorry about your dad. He was… he was my best friend, back then. I miss him like crazy.”

  “Me too,” I say, surprised at the lump in my throat. Even a year later, even after everything, I still get upset. I can still cry about it.

  “Really, I just wanted to call and see how you were doing.”

  “I’m doing fine,” I say. “You know. Back in the city, keeping an eye on my mom.”

  “Yeah? I spoke to her yesterday. She sounded good.”

  “I think she’s doing okay. She’s handling everything the best she can, anyway. They were married for twenty-five years.”

  “That long, huh?” he asks softly. “I guess they were really young.”

  “Did you know my mom well?”

  “Sure. We all went to the same high school. We ran in different circles, though.”

  “She’s never really talked about you, honestly.”

  He chuckles. “Not surprising. She never really approved of my friendship with your father.”

  “Really?”

  “I was a bad influence.”

  I grin a little bit. I can’t imagine Dad having any bad influences. He was always headstrong; never did anything he didn’t want to do.

  There’s a short pause and The Bachelor comes back from break, so I decide to let this stranger go. “Listen, it was nice of you to call,” I say.

  “Are you busy right now?” he asks suddenly.

  I’m a little surprised. “Uh, no, not really.”

  “How about we get some dinner? I promise I won’t talk about your dad the whole time.”

  I’m taken aback and, like I already admitted, on my second glass of wine. Plus, I’ve been so bored, so alone, and so wrapped up in my grief that I’ve more or less neglected all of my friends in the area. I could use a night out, even if it’s with a total stranger that’s probably only asking out of obligation.

  “Okay,” I say slowly.

  “Great.” He actually sounds relieved. “Do you know Butcher and Singer?”

  “Uh, yeah,” I say. “That’s the fancy steakhouse, right?”

  He chuckles again. “Yeah, that’s the one. Meet me there in forty minutes?”

  I bite my lip. Not only am I getting dinner, but an expensive, fancy dinner. Who is this guy and why haven’t I heard more about him?

  “Okay,” I say, even though I’m not in any state to be anywhere in forty minutes. “I’ll see you there.”

  “Just ask for Julian up front. See you soon.” He hangs up the phone.

  I shake my head and drop my phone down onto the couch. I stare at the screen, wondering if I should just stay home and watch more Bachelor. But no, my life is pathetic and sad enough already. Even
if this dinner is awkward and weird as hell, at least I’m getting out of the house.

  And plus, he sounded interesting. His voice was nice, and he made me laugh a little bit. So there’s that.

  I sigh and stand up. I sip my wine, turn off the TV and hurry to go get ready.

  Butcher and Singer is right at the bottom of 1500 Walnut, a fancy street with lots of fancy restaurants. I don’t spend much time around here, except for when I need to stop in at the T-Mobile store next door. I hurry in through the big gold door and step into a dimly lit, enormous room with marble floors and elaborate lighting fixtures.

  I feel so out of place. I don’t go out for expensive dinners, like, ever. I’m still a college girl in my mind, and my idea of getting some food always revolves around some form of pizza. This though, this is way beyond me.

  I walk up to the hostess. She glances at me and I swear she frowns a little bit. I’m wearing jeans and a sweater, and I know I’m a little underdressed, but there’s no need to be a snob about it.

  “Hi,” I say.

  “Can I help you?”

  I resist the urge to flip her off.

  “I’m here to see Julian,” I say, a little hesitantly.

  Immediately, the girl’s whole demeanor changes. “Oh, you’re here for Mr. White?”

  “Uh, yeah,” I say.

  “Wonderful.” Her smile is huge and fake, but at least she’s smiling now. “Right this way.”

  She leads me into the main dining room. The ceiling is absurdly high with large marble columns up along the walls. The bar is literally gleaming and there are eight-feet-wide crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. I feel like I just stepped into a movie straight from the 1940s.

  She leads me through the room and stops next to a private booth along the right side. It’s still in the main room, but tucked back into one corner, practically the best table in the house.

  The man sitting at the table looks up at me and I have to resist the urge to turn and run. His eyes are piercingly blue, almost too pretty. His jaw is handsome and square, and there’s a slight layer of perfect stubble along his cheeks, some of it turning slightly gray, but most of his hair is still a dark brown, cut short and pushed back. He stands as the hostess walks off.

  “Avery,” he says. “Wow.”

  “Julian?”

  He nods and steps forward. I go for a handshake but he pulls me into a hug.

  He’s twice my size at least and absolutely built, if I can go by this hug. He’s a big bull of a man, covered in muscles, and handsome as hell to boot. I mean, he can’t be that old, if he went to school with my dad. He must be in his early forties.

  “I’m glad you came,” he says, gesturing for me to sit. I slide into the booth across from him as he gets back into his spot. “I wouldn’t have been surprised if you ditched me.”

  I smile stupidly. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Oh, come on. Random friend of your dad’s invites you to dinner? I think anyone would ditch out on that.”

  I laugh a little bit. “Well, you said Butcher and Singer, so I figured…”

  “At least you’d get a good meal,” he says, nodding. “Exactly why I chose this place. Even if I’m horrible company, at least you can eat well.”

  I laugh again and look at a menu. “Speaking of which. I’ll take one of everything.”

  He grins at me, cocks his head. There’s a glass of something brown by his hand. He picks it up and swirls it almost absently.

  “You can have whatever you want,” he says. “Please, go wild. I come here all the time.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. I love this place. The ambiance always gets me.”

  “Well. Okay. Thanks.”

  I feel a little awkward, but I make a quick decision. A waitress comes to check on us and I order a glass of wine and the filet mignon. He asks for the lobster a la Newburg, and the waitress hurries off.

  “Lobster?” I ask. “You really are fancy, aren’t you?”

  He laughs and shrugs. “I guess so. Can’t help myself here. It’s just too good.”

  He asks me what I’ve been up to and I give him the stock answer, just figuring everything out. He asks me about school, and my wine appears a few minutes later.

  We make small talk, sticking to easy topics for the most part. I find myself laughing a lot and the conversation never really gets awkward or uncomfortable. He’s easygoing, funny, and laidback, not at all like the other men my father was friends with. He seems twenty years younger than he actually is.

  Our food comes after a bit and he leans forward, holding up his glass. “I want to have a toast,” he says.

  “Okay.” I hold mine up, head cocked. I expect him to say something sappy about my dad.

  “To you,” he says softly. “And to your future.”

  I’m a little surprised but I clink his glass and sip my wine.

  “And speaking of your future,” he says, “I have to admit something to you.”

  “What’s that?” I ask, feeling wary suddenly.

  “I invited you here with an ulterior motive.”

  I bite my lip. Dirty thoughts run through my mind, but I force myself to push them away.

  “Are you about to propose or something?”

  He laughs at that, genuinely delighted. “No, you’re not that lucky.”

  “Lucky? Have you been married before?”

  “Never,” he says. “And no kids, since I know that’s the next logical question.”

  “Never married, no kids. No wonder you can afford this place.”

  He rolls his eyes. “You sound like your dad.”

  I smile at that. “I am his daughter.”

  He nods a little, still smiling. “Look, I wanted to offer you a job.”

  I finger my wine glass and stare at him. “A job?” I ask finally.

  “It won’t be anything fancy,” he says quickly. “I’m starting a new venture, a publishing business. I’m going to need someone to be my assistant, but you’ll have other duties on top of that. Simple stuff, shipping books, sending invoices, that sort of thing. Pretty boring.” He shrugs a little and leans back like he just got something off his chest.

  “A job at your new publishing venture,” I say. “Uh, what did you used to do?”

  “I sold a marketing company recently,” he says. “Decided to move on and try something new.”

  “So you chose publishing? Since physical books are really selling like hotcakes these days.”

  He sips his drink, not smiling, but his eyes seem interested. “Good point.”

  “You’ll do eBooks too, right?”

  “We might.”

  “Oh, god, I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I’m being too pushy, aren’t I?”

  “Yes,” he admits. “But I like it, don’t worry. Just like your—”

  “Don’t,” I say, holding up a hand. “Don’t say I’m just like my dad.”

  “I was going to say mother.” His smile is gentle as he puts his drink down and picks up his utensils. “Think about it, anyway. You’ll like it. We’re starting from the ground up, so you’ll be there from the beginning. You have an English degree, right?”

  “Right,” I confirm.

  “Your mom said you don’t have anything right now, so I thought…”

  I groan. “So you thought you’d offer me some charity?”

  He smirks a little. “I thought I’d offer to help out the daughter of my old dead friend. It’s the least I can do.”

  I glare at him, suddenly angry. I don’t know why he’s talking to me like this. I get that he’s rich and successful, but I’m not just some little girl anymore.

  “I’ll think about it,” I say.

  “Sure, think about it. But I want you in the office on Monday.”

  I make an exasperated noise and put down my fork. “Look, that’s in just a few days. I’m not just going to drop everything and take this job just because you feel bad about my dad.”

  He take
s a bite of his lobster, chews slowly, and finally sips his whiskey. “Look, it’s not just that,” he says finally. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure I was going to offer you a job. But you passed my interview.”

  “This was… a job interview?”

  “More like a compatibility interview.”

  “Compatibility,” I say flatly. “Like we’re online dating.”

  “Sure, except, you know, in person.”

  “We’re not dating!”

  “No, we’re talking about a job where we’ll be working closely together. I’d say that’s a lot more intimate.”

  “How’s that… how’s that more intimate?”

  He grins at me. “You don’t date much, do you?”

  I blush and look away. He has no clue how true that is. I’ve never been big on dating and I’ve only had one or two boyfriends. And I’ve never… well, I’ve never slept with any of them.

  I’m as inexperienced as they get.

  “Why are we talking about this?” I lean back in my seat and sip my wine, trying to cover my embarrassment.

  “Just take the job,” he says softly. “If you find something better, you can quit whenever you want. For now, though… at least it’s a job.”

  I stare at him. He’s handsome and clearly cocky, but there’s something else. There’s another depth to him that I haven’t even glimpsed yet; that I’ve only seen hints of.

  I don’t know why I’m considering this. I don’t want to be an assistant to some handsome, rich asshole. I want to teach. I want to get out there and help people.

  But I do need a job. I’ve been drowning, floundering, trying to find my way and failing. I need something to get me straight, and this might be the lifeline I’ve been waiting for.

  “I’ll think about it,” I say finally, but without much conviction.

  He grins. “Good. I knew you would.” He takes another bite. “We’ll start Monday,” he says between mouthfuls.