Until Daddy: Dark Lace Series

by Stone, Measha

  “That’s fine. I’ll call you tomorrow, Grant.”

  “Jamison—” she tried.

  “No.” He shook his head.

  “Talk to you later, Jamison. And good luck to you, Ms. McAllister.” The detective didn’t look very much like he wished her luck. In fact, Grant looked almost as stern as Jamison when he took her hand.

  “Let’s go.”

  She didn’t try to pull back from him.

  Carissa let him drag her to his car without a word of complaint. She’d known this would happen. Known he’d be pissed if he found out. Jade shouldn’t have called him!

  Once they were in the car, buckled and driving, she chanced a look at him. His knuckles were nearly transparent from the grip he had on the wheel, but it didn't compare to the fierceness of his expression. With intense focus, he stared at the road ahead of them with a clenched jaw.

  “Is something wrong? I mean, besides the obvious?” she asked.

  “When we get home, you’ll put on your bad-girl panties.” That was it? Nothing else?

  “Jamison, Daddy, I didn’t mean to get you so angry.”

  He shook his head. He wasn’t looking at her. Even at red lights, he continued to stare out the window. Something had happened. Something that had nothing to do with her.

  “But you did. You blatantly disobeyed me. You lied to me!” His voice rose. Daddy never raised his voice.

  “It was important.”

  He huffed. Not a real laugh, or a chuckle, more of a sound of annoyance.

  She left it alone until he parked outside her building. He didn’t unbuckle her. He didn’t tell her to stay put so he could open her door. He did open it, though, with a quick yank and a jerk of his thumb, telling her to get out.

  She swallowed hard. It didn’t feel the same as when she’d walked toward a punishment before. This, this was different. Permanent in some way. Like a heaviness pressed down on them, and she wasn’t sure a simple spanking would break it up and clear it away.

  Maybe she should tell him. Maybe if she didn’t make him wait the week to tell him she’d decided to ignore the expiration date, he’d lighten up. The cloud would dissipate, at least a little.

  She unlocked the door to her apartment.

  “Saw you on TV a few minutes ago. Got yourself into some trouble, huh?” Mr. Buschmann called over the railing.

  She closed her eyes and took a breath. He could not have picked a worse time to be his nosy self.

  “Yes, she did,” Jamison answered and pushed the door open.

  Before any other retort could be uttered, she was inside, the door closed and locked behind them.

  “Do you want something to drink?” She walked to the kitchen. He needed to calm down; he was too angry.

  “You knew all week you were going to go today, didn’t you?” He followed her into the kitchen.

  She paused at the dishwasher. “I—I had thought about it, yes. But I wasn’t sure, not really sure until yesterday.”

  “And you thought what, that if you went, I probably wouldn’t find out, so no big deal?” His voice was cold. Frozen, really.

  How could she even begin to explain herself when there was no acceptable explanation.

  “I know it sounds bad; it looks bad. It’s just, it was important to me, really important.”

  “And keeping you safe is important to me, but that didn’t matter to you, did it? Only what you wanted counted.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.” It was coming out wrong; the whole day was happening wrong. Her throat closed up, but not because she was in trouble. No, the look on his face didn’t suggest a spanking was coming. It was worse. Darkness lurked there. She knew that expression, knew what feelings boiled beneath it.

  “I’m sorry.” She leaned against the counter, remembering what she wanted to tell him, remembering what she’d decided that morning. But when she looked at him and saw the distance, the gap she’d put between them, the words couldn’t form.

  “You’re sorry I found out. You’re sorry I had to bail your ass out of jail. You’re sorry about all of that, but that’s it. You had no intention of ever taking our relationship seriously.” His words cut her.

  “No, that’s not true!”

  He took a deep breath and looked around. She could sense him drifting away. He was still standing there, in her kitchen, but some decision had been made, some horrible, irreversible decision.

  “Daddy—”

  “No. I think maybe you were right. Maybe these relationships don’t last, they aren’t meant for people like you. Or me.”

  “What? No. I was wrong, no, Jamison. I fucked up—sorry, messed up—badly. I get that, but you can’t throw away everything because I was bad one time.”

  “You never had any hope for this to last. This has just been a month-long ride for you, and you were going to get off next week anyway. So, let’s cut through the bullshit and finish it now.”

  “Jamison. Please.” She fisted her hands at her sides. She needed to get a grip because soon she was going to throw herself at his feet, and she wasn’t that person. She didn’t beg people to stay where they didn’t want to.

  His gaze was hard. Maybe she was as much of a game to him as he accused her of playing.

  “No need to delay the inevitable. We’ll consider today the expiration date,” he announced, his voice as hard as his eyes.

  The wall was there, fully erect and unclimbable. He’d made the call. He’d ended them.

  She swallowed hard, bit back the tears threatening to fall and stood straighter.

  If he wanted to go, fine. She wouldn’t beg or cry for him. No. If he wanted out. There was the door.

  She stood in her kitchen while he quietly turned and walked out of her apartment. He didn’t even slam the door. The quiet click of it latching was worse. So much worse than an impassioned leaving.

  He was gone.

  She blinked, letting the tears fall and not stopping them.

  He was gone.

  Chapter 17

  “I don’t understand you,” Garrick leaned over his cheeseburger.

  Jamison popped a fry into his mouth and chewed slowly.

  “What’s to understand? I told you, we had a deal. One month.” He shrugged, lifting both shoulders. The energy it took to act as though walking out of Carissa’s apartment three days ago hadn’t torn him in pieces was exhausting.

  “Bullshit. I know you said that, I know you told her that, but I also know that you weren’t looking at that as a real end date.”

  “Maybe you don’t know as much as you think.” Jamison popped another fry into his mouth. Grease and salt, but it didn’t matter. Everything had lost its taste as soon as he closed the door behind him at her apartment.

  Garrick leaned back in the booth, glaring at him. “So, you’re not even interested in knowing how she’s doing?”

  Of course he wanted to know. Not for one second had she left his mind. It was torment.

  “I’m sure you’ll tell me either way.” He forced a casual tone.

  “Jade has all but moved in with her. Oh, she’s playing like she’s fine. Much like the idiot you are being, but she’s not fine. For Christ’s sake, Jade had to remind her to shower before going to work this morning!”

  Jamison wouldn’t let it get to him. She’d made the decision. She’d broken the rules, completely disregarded them. She’d taught him she’d been right. Relationships didn’t work. People lied. People had their own agendas, and they couldn’t get around that.

  “She’ll be fine,” he reminded himself. He was not going to her apartment. He was not going to save her from her own misery or him from his.

  “You’re an idiot. I swear. What happened with Baron? He called me yesterday to see if I was still considering the deal. I told him the same as before, not unless the location changed—but he didn’t even get frazzled. He laughed and said my loss and hung up.”

  “My father and I aren’t speaking, and, if I have my way, probably won’t a
gain.”

  “Does this have something to do with what you talked with Grant about?”

  Jamison broke a fry in half and squished it, watching the soft potato center ooze out of it. “Yes. I’ve hired him to find my mother. Apparently, she didn’t abandon me. My father paid her to leave and never come back.”

  “What?” Garrick dropped his burger back onto his plate. “He paid her off?”

  “Yeah. I was pissed at first, but it’s my father. I have no doubt she had little choice, or at least thought she had none. He also said she left him for another man, but I don’t believe that. Once I find her, I’ll know for sure.”

  “When did you find this out?”

  “Saturday.”

  “Right before you went to get Carissa out of jail? Jamison. You broke up with her because you were pissed at your father?”

  The contempt in Garrick’s voice turned Jamison’s stomach.

  “No. I broke up with her because I got tired of playing the waiting game. What was the point of taking a step in the right direction when, in the end, she was going to walk away? Going to that protest was more important than obeying my instructions about it because in a week, she’d still be dealing with the shelter and not be dealing with me.” Jamison dropped the fry he’d been twisting in his fingers and grabbed his napkin, his appetite lost.

  “You don’t know that. I don’t think that’s true at all.” Garrick shook his head. “You need to talk to her, sort all this out.”

  “There’s nothing to sort out.” Jamison took a deep breath and stretched his arms out. Sleep had been an elusive bitch the past few days. “I have to head out for a meeting. I’ll be in the office this afternoon, though. I want to move forward with the Dark Lace expansion.”

  “You’re being as stubborn as she is,” Garrick chided.

  “Yeah, well, I’ve earned it.” Not much of a retort, he’d grant that, but his mind wasn’t working on all cylinders just yet. He tossed bills down on the table and left Garrick to finish his lunch.

  * * *

  Carissa stepped off the bus onto the pavement outside the shelter, still in a haze. She couldn’t shake the lost feeling that had taken over her since that click. That resounding click that signaled the finality of his goodbye.

  She’d fucked it all up so beautifully. Her resistance, her reluctance had worn off on him. No wonder he didn’t think she’d taken him seriously. She’d put a damn expiration date on their relationship. You can’t be taken seriously if you already plan to end it.

  Smart. She’d been so damn smart.

  Ugh.

  The February air whipped around her, crisp and cold, but she didn’t care. She’d left her scarf and her hat in her bag. Stuffing her ungloved hands into her coat pockets, she climbed the steps to the shelter.

  Having spent the entire day at work watching new parents fawn over their babies, kissing each other and oozing love all over the place, had left her drained. Love like that didn’t happen for her. Wasn’t that what she’d told herself?

  But she’d had it, or at least close to it. So close that she could almost taste it, and now it was gone.

  “Carissa?” Margaret walked up to her as she turned down the hall leading to the clinic.

  “Yeah.” She pushed her hair away from her face and tried to smile.

  “Oh. Honey. You look.” Margaret grasped her by the shoulders and turned her. “You look exhausted.” Although she’d been turned, Carissa caught his figure walking down the same hall, in the opposite direction to the front doors.

  “Is that, was that Jamison?” she asked, pulling free from Margaret. Had he come looking for her? Was he ready to forgive her?

  “Yes.” Her voice didn’t sound like someone who was about to tell her her hot hunk of a boyfriend was looking for her. No, that upbeat tone she’d had previously was gone. “He—uh, he mentioned you two weren’t seeing each other any longer.”

  And the bricks just kept falling. Her head pounded. “Oh. Yes, right.”

  “He’s, well, he’s buying the building, Carissa.”

  Carissa took a step back. “What? Why? For his father?” Had he really gone off to the dark side because she’d convinced him love wasn’t real?

  “No! No. He’s buying the building, not the shelter. We’ll be renting the space from him. He’ll be able to better protect the shelter from his father sweeping in and ripping it from us.”

  “Because he has friends in high places, too. And can’t have the richie-rich fighting amongst themselves.” Carissa tried to sound sour, but Jamison never acted that way.

  “He completely outbid his father, and, with the money, we can remodel the place and add more programs. He even wants to expand the housing area, put a second floor onto the place.”

  Carissa tried to look happy for Margaret. It sounded perfect. But Jamison hadn’t stuck around to tell her himself. He’d left. He’d just walked out. “That’s great, Margaret. Really.”

  “Hon, you need to go home. Sink into a hot tub, pour some wine, and cry it out. And when you’re done crying, you need to call him. He looked as close to death as you do right now.”

  Cry? Wasn’t she already cried out?

  “I have to get the program stuff ready for this weekend.”

  “It can wait. Now, bundle up and go home.” Margaret hooked her arm through hers and all but dragged her to the doors. Not that she gave her much of a fight.

  Carissa felt more dead than alive at the moment anyway.

  Chapter 18

  “I got some of your mail!” Mr. Buschmann called down the stairwell. “Got mixed up with mine.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Buschmann.” Carissa jogged up the flight of stairs to meet him and get the envelopes from his hand.

  “Looks like Mr. Croft might be back, eh?” He gave her the most sympathetic smile she’d ever seen from him.

  “What?” She flipped through the envelopes and found one addressed to her from Jamison. Her heart picked up speed while her stomach fell into her shoes.

  “Be gentle on him, now. Men do stupid things when they are in love.” He gave her a toothy grin.

  “I never would have taken you for a romantic.”

  “Ah, I’m not. But I liked that fella.” The man put his sour expression back on, but she could see through it much clearer now.

  “Thanks, Mr. Buschmann. I liked him too.”

  She ran down the stairs and into her apartment. Dropping the mail on her couch, she stripped off her running jacket. Spring was starting to warm up the chill outside. March had come and, with it, the sun.

  She eyed the envelope sitting on top of the pile.

  Jamison.

  He’d been at the shelter a few times, working with Margaret on changes and remodeling stuff, but she’d stayed out of their way. Even when Margaret tried to pull her in for a conversation on the clinic, she’d bowed out. The staff nurse had it handled. She wasn’t needed.

  Jade had invited her to dinner, but after Carissa wrangled the confession that Jamison would be in attendance as well, she cried off. There was no need to see what she couldn’t have.

  He’d moved on already. Probably had a new girlfriend.

  She needed a change, too. She hadn’t been to Dark Lace since he brought her there last. Just because he owned it didn’t mean she couldn’t still enjoy herself there.

  It was Friday night. A perfect time for that change!

  Chucking the running gear, she jumped in the shower and pulled out the shortest skirt she could find in her closet. She was going to get back in the saddle.

  After spending an hour on her hair and makeup, and another half hour on finding the perfect shirt to go with her skirt she opened her underwear drawer to find some panties.

  The white cotton panties were exactly where she’d had them over the past three weeks. Good Girl blared up at her from the top of the pile. She traced the words with her fingertips. She didn’t have the courage to throw them away yet, but she’d stopped wearing them.

  Her
thongs didn’t feel the same as they used to. They felt wrong, but she wouldn’t put on those panties. She needed to get rid of them.

  She grabbed a pair of purple bikini underwear and finished dressing. On the way out the door, the mail caught her eye again.

  “Fine,” she said to the furniture and grabbed his letter, ripping it open.

  She pulled out the folded stationary and opened it up. Two tickets fell out into her hands.

  The Pink concert.

  She read the short letter.

  Carissa,

  Found these in my drawer. I know how much you enjoy Pink. Go to the concert. Have a good time but be safe.

  Jamison

  Be safe? That was that?

  Hadn’t he said they could go as friends? Isn’t that what he told her when she reminded him their time would be up by March thirteenth?

  The light from her apartment reflected in the window gave her a clear view of herself. All decked out and ready to go to the club to catch—what—another man? Another daddy?

  No. She had a daddy, but more than that she’d had a friend and a lover. She wasn’t giving up yet.

  She opened the drawer of her writing desk and scribbled a note, stuffed it in an envelope along with one of the tickets, and sealed it before she could talk herself out of it.

  Carissa grabbed her coat and ran down the steps toward the nearest mailbox. It had to get in the next day’s mail, the sooner the better.

  She found the box, pulled the blue door down and threw the letter inside then let go of the door. She stood there, on the corner, staring at the mailbox.

  Would he go?

  Could he forgive her?

  She had an entire week to stew about it before she found out.

  * * *

  Jamison sat in his car, fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

  He’d received Carissa’s letter two days before. The concert was in two hours. He had a decision to make. Could he go? Could he see her again, so soon?

  She mentioned two friends going out, but he didn’t want friendship.