My Favorite Daddy: A Dark Daddy Romance (Dark Daddies Book 6) Page 3

  He laughs. “Okay, sure. People are usually more impressed by that one.”

  “Is it true?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “What year did you graduate, anyway?”

  He smirks at me. “Before you were born, little whippersnapper.”

  I blush a little. “That’s not what I meant.”

  The waitress comes a moment later and he orders a bottle of wine. She leaves and I feel a little off-balance from that last exchange.

  “What about you?” he asks. “How does a girl like you end up as an… emotional companion?”

  “Chance,” I admit. “I met a girl that was into it and she dragged me along.”

  “You don’t seem like the type to get dragged along.”

  I laugh lightly. “Okay, well, maybe I saw how much money there was and couldn’t help myself.”

  “How old were you?”

  “I was nineteen when I started,” I admit.

  “Pretty young.”

  “It was harder at first.”

  “But now?”

  I tilt my head slightly. “You don’t want all my secrets, do you?”

  “Absolutely I do.” He leans toward me, green eyes flashing. “Every single one.”

  “I wouldn’t want you getting bored of me.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  I meet his gaze and for a second, I actually believe him. I don’t know why I keep falling for this man’s bullshit, but there’s something earnest about him, like everything he says is absolutely true.

  I pick up the menu and scan it. There are no prices, which basically means it’s all absurdly expensive. I settle for the salmon and he orders mussels and pasta when the waitress returns.

  “We should talk business,” I say once we’re alone again.

  He waves that away. “Later. Try this.” He pours me a glass of wine.

  I take a sip. It’s actually pretty good, although I’ve always been more of a gin girl myself.

  “Nice, right?”

  I nod. “Very good.”

  “Honestly, I have no clue if this stuff is any good or not.” He grins at me, swirling his glass around. “I don’t know anything about wine.”

  I laugh at that. “I thought all rich guys were into wine and cigars.”

  “Nah. Wine is just a drink. And cigars are disgusting.”

  “I have a few clients that are into cigars,” I say. “They’ll puff away all session long and by the end of it, I can’t get out into fresh air fast enough.”

  “Must be unpleasant.”

  “Not really, honestly. They’re good people. I just don’t love that habit.”

  “What are some of your bad habits?”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “Nice try.”

  “I’ll tell you mine.”

  “Go ahead. I’m not exchanging.”

  He leans back, grinning. “That’s okay. I’ll give you this one for free.” He sips his wine, watching me closely. “I stay up too late.”

  I roll my eyes. “How scandalous.”

  “I know. I’m always tired, but I can’t help myself.”

  “I put off doing the dishes until the last possible second. And then sometimes I still don’t do them all.”

  He laughs at that. “I pay someone to do my dishes. Isn’t that awful?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “And I haven’t cleaned a bathroom in maybe twenty years.”

  “Oh, well, I haven’t either.”

  He laughs and makes a face. “Gross.”

  “I have a clean-freak roommate, so that helps.”

  “Ah. Must be nice.”

  “She’s great.”

  “What’s her name?”

  I hesitate. I don’t normally divulge this piece of information. “Zoe.”

  “Are you two friends?”

  “Yeah. Close friends.”

  “That’s good. I miss having a roommate sometimes. I always liked it.”

  “I’ve never lived alone.”

  “Not all it’s cracked up to be.”

  We chat for a little while longer and I lose track of time. He tells me about his penthouse apartment, about his company. I tell him about how boring my life is, aside from my job. Talking with Brady is easy, comfortable, never strained. He asks as many questions as he answers, and I find myself laughing more often than not.

  Our food comes and I’m surprised at how hungry I am. Everything is delicious, and I can see why he chose this place. Quiet, intimate, and delicious. Probably trying to impress me a little bit, and it’s actually working.

  Clients are always trying to impress me with their wealth. Normally, it’s clumsy stuff: gifts, lavish displays, that sort of thing. Very rarely does a man actually use his money in a way that grabs my attention.

  In the end, it’s not about how much cash you have, but about how good your taste is. I have a feeling that Brady has good taste.

  We eat and keep talking through the meal. He tells me more about himself, about his childhood, about starting the company.

  “I was young and stupid,” he says. “I don’t know why I thought it could work, but here I am.”

  “What’s changed?” I ask.

  “Not much. I’m still stupid. Just not as young.”

  I laugh at his jokes, at his self-deprecation mixed with absurd confidence. He has this adorable little smile, half grin and half smirk, like he knows he’s getting away with something.

  He sucks me in. I end up talking about myself way more than I normally do, and after we’re done eating, I have a second glass of wine.

  I never let myself drink around clients. That’s not a hard rule, but it’s still a rule. Don’t get drunk, don’t lose control. But with Brady, I can’t seem to care about any of my rules right now.

  I’m just genuinely enjoying myself.

  He swirls his glass again and sighs a little. “I think we should talk now,” he says.

  I nod a little bit. “I was waiting for this.”

  “Have you thought about my offer?”

  “I have,” I say. “It’s not a simple thing. I can’t just disappear on my other clients.”

  “It’s only one week. They’ll survive.”

  I bite my lip. “They will, but my job is all about trust. I don’t want to jeopardize that trust by disappearing on them.”

  He purses his lips. “I see. I can understand that.”

  “But…” I look away. “I can always tell them there’s a good reason.”

  He leans across the table. “Yes, you can.”

  “I still don’t understand why you want this. I mean, five million dollars?”

  “Money is nothing. I already told you that.”

  “I know, but still.”

  “You interest me. There’s not a lot left that interests me these days.”

  I catch a hint of melancholy in his voice, which surprises me. He’s always so upbeat, but maybe this is that glimpse of something more that I got earlier today.

  “I’m considering it,” I say finally. “We’ll need rules. Boundaries.”

  “I completely agree.”

  “You can’t come into my real life. We have to leave it professional.”

  “I can do that.”

  “And no sex.”

  He smiles at me. “Okay.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I know you do.” He cocks his head slightly. “But what if you change your mind?”

  “I won’t.”

  “You will.” His words are whispered.

  “Brady.”

  “I have my own rule, while we’re on the subject.”

  I bite my lip again. “What?”

  “You see, I have this fantasy. And yes, it’s sexual, but it won’t involve sex.”

  “I don’t do fantasies.”

  “You’ll do this one.”

  “Brady.” I put my hands on the table. “I already told you.”

  “Listen, little Aria,” he whispers, nearly cooin
g at me. “I have one more request.”

  “What is it?” I ask him, heart beating fast.

  “I want you to call me something. That’s all I need.”

  “Call you something? Like a nickname?”

  “Exactly. You give me one week and call me what I want, and you’ll get five million dollars. Nothing more than that. No sex, nothing you aren’t comfortable with.”

  “What do you want to be called?”

  As soon as the words leave my lips, I regret it. This is already going too far, way beyond what I wanted. He has a fantasy, that’s fine. But I don’t do fantasies. I don’t do sex. If we stray into that realm, it’ll totally ruin what I normally do, what I’m good at.

  He’ll have the advantage. And I can’t let that happen.

  “I need you to call me Daddy.”

  I stare at him, a little wide-eyed. “Daddy?”

  “That’s right. You’ll call me Daddy for one week and you’ll be all mine.” He leans toward me, his green eyes flashing again. My heart is beating so fast I think I might pass out. “I’ve always wanted to take care of someone, and you’re perfect. I’ll shower you with gifts, little Aria, give you whatever you want or need. You won’t owe me anything, won’t be expected to do anything but to call me Daddy. It’ll be one week of getting spoiled by me, and at the end of it, you’ll get a very nice paycheck. So, tell me you’ll do it.”

  I stare into his eyes. It’s tempting, so tempting. One week with him, getting spoiled by him, taken care of by him…

  I’m always the one taking care of my clients. I’m the one taking on their bullshit, their stress, their anger. I’m the therapist and the best friend and sometimes even the mom. I need a freaking break sometimes. I love it but I’m tired.

  But calling him Daddy… saying that word, over and over to him, letting him spoil me…

  I can’t. I can’t do it. This goes against all of my rules. It’s so far outside of my rules that I can’t even remember who I’m supposed to be.

  I stand up suddenly. “I’m sorry,” I say, turn away from the table, and walk away.

  I stumble back through the restaurant. I don’t know if it’s the wine or just my nerves going insane, but I can’t seem to think straight. I hurry away from the table, through the stifling, dark room, and out onto the street.

  It’s dark now. I don’t remember it getting dark. For a second, I’m lost, completely lost.

  I keep hearing that word, over and over in my mind. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. I keep seeing myself, down on my knees, calling him Daddy. I keep feeling his hands on my body, his lips on my neck. I can whisper Daddy in his ear while his hands slide up between my legs, tease my pussy, drive me wild…

  No, god, no. I can’t do it. I won’t let myself do it.

  But the thought of being on my knees while I call him Daddy, his cock in my mouth, his hard cock ready to slide between my legs, it drives me insane.

  I hear him come out behind me. “Aria,” he says.

  I turn to him. I blink and stare into his green eyes. He steps closer.

  “Say it,” he whispers.

  “I can’t.”

  He steps closer. Inches away from me. I feel his hands on my hips.

  “Say it.”

  I groan. It slips past my lips. I feel him pull me against his strong body, his muscular chest, his powerful hands. His lips graze my throat.

  “Say it,” he repeats.

  “Oh, god,” I whisper.

  “Say it.”

  I meet his gaze again.

  “Daddy.”

  His lips press against mine. The kiss takes me by surprise but feels so right. I’ve never kissed a client before, but Brady isn’t a client, not exactly. He’s something else entirely.

  I don’t know what he is and I’m afraid of it. But I know I can’t help myself.

  His kiss tastes incredible, feels incredible. I’ve needed this since the moment I saw him, and now that he’s finally kissing me, it’s even better than I could’ve guessed.

  “That’s right,” he says softly. “One week and you’re all mine.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” I whisper.

  It’s a mistake. It’s stupid, reckless, absurd. I should run away.

  But maybe it’s good. This is what I do, I give men what they need to feel good. Maybe this is just what he needs. It’s something I’ve never experienced before, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad.

  I’m going to call him Daddy for one whole week and find out just how far I’m willing to go.

  4

  Brady

  The next morning, Aria meets me at a coffee shop around the corner from my apartment. “Cute spot,” she says.

  “I think so.” I order two coffees and hand her one. “I almost didn’t expect you to show up.”

  “I keep surprising you then.”

  “Yes, you do.” I give her a little smile. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  She follows me down the block toward my apartment. “You live here?”

  “I have an apartment in the building up there.” I nod at the apartment complex, a brand new and modern place. “I guess that’s a little disingenuous. I own the whole building.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “You own an apartment complex?”

  “Sure. Just one of a bunch of investments I have all over the city.”

  “I never pegged you as the landlord type.”

  “Oh, I’m very hands-off.”

  “I bet you are.”

  I laugh as we approach my building. I hold the door open for her and we head right back to the elevators.

  “Michael actually convinced me to do this,” I tell her as I swipe my key card before the elevator will let us ride up to the top floor. “He’s always going on about sound investments.”

  “Sounds like him.”

  “If I had it my way, I’d just give half my cash away and be done with it.”

  She gives me a look. “Oh, yeah. You’re so charitable.”

  I laugh softly at her. Little does she know.

  The doors open right into my apartment. I have the entire top floor. Calling it an apartment’s something of an understatement, really. I have five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a full, modern kitchen, a large living room, and a small home gym, plus a balcony the length of one side of the building and another deck space on the roof.

  We step into my living room. The couch runs along the center of the room with a coffee table and a large rug filling the space. There’s a television mounted above the fireplace tuned to some random channel with pretty landscape pictures.

  “Nice place,” she says, looking around.

  “Thanks. Want the tour?”

  She shrugs. “Sure.”

  I take her through the place. We linger in the kitchen as I show her my chef’s knives and exotic spices. “You like to cook?” she asks.

  “I try to,” I say. “Not great, though.”

  “Best part of any kitchen is a man that’s willing to use it.”

  I laugh softly. “Never heard that before.”

  “It’s straight from my brain.”

  I lead her down the hall and show her the rooms, the gym, the balcony. We look out over at the city and she’s quiet for a little while, enjoying the view.

  I lean back against the wall and watch her. Aria is beautiful, long and lean, even though she’s not particularly tall. There’s something about her, something graceful, like she was a dancer when she was younger. Her body is tight but full where it counts and I’m tempted to grab her hips, push her up against the railing, pull down her jeans, feel that thick ass in my hands.

  I want to grip her hard. I want to make her gasp as my fingers dig into her skin and my lips press against hers.

  Fucking hell, she drives me wild just watching her.

  She looks over her shoulder and catches me staring. I don’t bother to look away and her cheeks turn slightly red. I think she knows exactly what I was thinking.

  Before she can say anything though, there’s a
sound from inside.

  “He must be here,” I say.

  “Who?” she asks, groaning.

  “Come on. You’d better meet him.”

  I head inside with Aria on my heels. “I don’t like surprises,” she whispers.

  “It’s okay,” I say, leading her back to the kitchen.

  Standing over the table is a short man with graying hair and a tasteful goatee. He’s a little on the heavy side, although not fat. His suit is gray and slightly rumpled, but I know it’s expensive. He probably just slept in it again last night.

  “Aria, meet Heinz,” I say. “Heinz, this is her.”

  Heinz looks over at Aria with his light gray eyes. He nods to himself and doesn’t smile. That’s what I love about Heinz, that serious Germanic attitude.

  “Very good,” he says, his accent thick. “We shall get started.”

  “Get started?” Aria asks me. “What is this?”

  “Heinz is my lawyer,” I explain. “We’re finalizing our little deal.”

  “Very strange little deal!” Heinz exclaims. “Very strange. Writing contracts for this… arrangement.” He shakes his head. “Bizarre!”

  I laugh and walk over as Heinz pulls papers from his briefcase. Aria hesitates, but she joins us, sitting down in a chair across from Heinz.

  “Come on, this isn’t the strangest thing you’ve ever done for me.”

  “Oh, no, no, it definitely is,” Heinz says. “Very much so, the strangest. And so much money?”

  “Heinz,” I say, still smiling.

  “Yes, right, I know. You don’t pay for my opinion, just my paperwork.” He rolls his eyes. “What kind of man has a lawyer but doesn’t ask for legal advice from him, eh?”

  “This man,” I say. “Is that the contract?”

  “Yes, yes.” Heinz holds the papers up, showing them to Aria. “Straightforward, yes? Five million dollars one week from signing so long as you fulfill the stipulations.” He looks at me. “She knows the stipulations?”

  “Yes, but you should go over them with her anyway.”

  “Right, of course.” He passes her a copy and walks around the table. “Here it is, very plain language, as you can see. You shall spend one week with Brady here, exclusively. No other men, he made that very clear.” As Heinz explains, he jabs his pudgy finger at various different paragraphs and sub-sections. He flips through the pages as he goes.