My heart picks up its pace, a combination of knowing I’m about to be punished, as well as from looking at his stern, handsome face.
He’s been my crush almost my whole life. I’m not the only one who adores him—practically every female at our small high school had his name written on their notebooks. But I always felt like I had a bit of a claim on him, seeing as our dads worked together.
Eli was self-assured, confident, a natural leader at a time when the other boys were immature, flailing to figure out who they were and what it meant to be a man. Eli seems to have been born knowing what to say, how to carry himself.
Boys would pick fights with him from time to time, just to see what he was made of. Often he’d dismiss them with cold words. Other times he’d fight, and when he fought, he won.
Every time.
He always had a girlfriend. A string of sleek brunette beauties, proud to be on his arm. They were serious, studious, and gorgeous. The kind who wrote poetry, sketched, seemed so much older than their age. Those untouchable girls who don’t even seem like real girls, instead made of the same stuff as the Greek goddesses.
He’s never been with a quirky, curly-haired blonde girl who seems to always find herself in one scrape after another—like the one I’m in now.
Nervous energy races through my body. My tongue loosens and idle chatter tumbles from my mouth. “What have you got going on this summer? You graduated college, right? I just finished my freshman year. Three years to go before I’m in your shoes. I heard you got honored at the commencement ceremony for your GPA and being class president—”
He asks me, “Who told you that?”
Trembling beneath his icy gaze, I can’t stop the jumble of words from racing forward. Giving a nervous laugh, I say, “My mom. Who heard it from your mom. You know how parents are. Always talking about their kids.”
He pulls me further down the dark hall. “I think you’re stalling. Making small talk to keep me from lighting up your ass.”
His words make my buttocks clench.
I make a snap decision—I’ll run for it.
But how to get out of his grip? Kick him? I look over his muscled body. The thick material of his suit can’t hide the bulge of his biceps. I doubt he’d even feel it if I tried to punch him; it would probably be a tickle to him.
There must be other tactics I can use. Womanly wiles are out since silly drunk girls are obviously not his type. But maybe acting. Create a distraction, then escape.
Theater has never let me down. Nerves dance in my belly as I prepare to carry out my plan. Pasting a horrified look on my face, I raise my arm in the air and shout, “Oh, my gosh, look over there! Someone’s in trouble!”
He stops dead in his tracks. Dropping his grasp of my arm, his body instantly tenses, preparing for danger.
Without a backwards glance, I sprint down the hall toward the red lights of the emergency exit. I’m almost there! My hand reaches out toward the silver handle, and—two big arms wrap around me, stopping my momentum and pulling me backwards.
My arms are flailing as I cry out, “Let me go!”
Eli holds me against him, his chest pressing against my back. His mouth is by my ear, his breath hot on my cheek. “Going somewhere, little girl?”
My heart beats hard against my ribcage. A thrill of danger runs through me and there’s a pulsing between my legs, a reaction to his rough embrace. The feel of his body against mine weakens my resolve but I still put up a fight. “I’ll never agree to this!”
“I’ve told you—you already agreed when you said we’d do things my way.” With that, he props his right foot up on a nearby discarded storage crate and flips me over his thigh. He gives my ass a hard smack.
The pain surprises me. I struggle in his grasp. “That hurt!”
His arm tightens around my waist. “It’s going to hurt more.”
I groan with despair. “Are you sure this is necessary? It was only a little partying.”
“I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation. Maybe you’ll get a better grasp of how inappropriate your behavior is if we pull up this dress.” His hand tugs at the hem of my dress, pulling the silky material up and over my bottom.
Anyone could walk down this hall. The thought of someone seeing me like this—it’s horrifying. Shame covers me like a blanket. “Please don’t!”
“Don’t what?” he asks.
I don’t think I’ll survive the humiliation of someone seeing my bottom. “Please don’t pull my dress up. Someone could see.”
“Good. They’ll tell the Bachmans you’ve been dealt with and it will spare your father being reprimanded.” He continues lifting the dress.
I’m exposed. The cool air caresses my panty-clad bottom. I squeeze my eyes shut tight as if I can block out what’s happening. Sucking air between my clenched teeth, I hiss, “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me!”
“Would you rather I retrieve Rockland to punish you?”
The image of the huge angry-looking man pops into my mind, his massive hand spanking my bottom hard. Fear dashes through my heart. “No, thank you!”
My dress is now bunched up around my waist. He’s running his hand over my sheer pink panties, caressing the spot he’s spanked. “Such a cute bottom.”
Shocked by his words, there’s tingling between my legs. There’s no time to enjoy it because now his hand is coming down hard and fast. One smack to the center of the right cheek, then one to the center of the left. Pain covers my bottom, a stinging smarting that’s hurting my curves as well as my pride.
He’s chastising me as he spanks. “You were mistaken, thinking you could hold your own, drinking with grown ladies. You’re still a little girl in need of watching and correcting. All dressed up at a fancy party only to find your panties being pulled down for a spanking.”
The pain is instantly forgotten as I feel his fingers creep to the elastic waist band of my panties. The material is thin, not giving me any protection from his smarting hand, but they are at least protecting the one ounce of dignity I have left. “No, no, no. You can’t. You just can’t! Please don’t pull my panties down, I’m begging you. It’s too humiliating.”
His fingers hold steady for a moment, not moving.
Maybe he’s changed his mind. Hope fills my heart. But then with one quick tug, he’s got my panties pulled down, rolled around the tops of my thighs. I moan in shame as I feel his gaze on the very naked cheeks of my punished bottom.
“Nice and pink. But let’s see if we can get a pretty cherry red.”
His hand comes down on my bare bottom and I realize the panties were offering more protection than I thought. The sting from his flat palm against the bare skin of my bottom is unbearable as his hand comes down over and over.
Soon I’m begging, pleading, and promising. “Please, don’t spank me anymore! I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll be a good girl. No more drinking, I promise!”
His hand pauses, I sense it hovering over me, ready to strike. “And you’ll mind your manners at the next family function?”
The words slip from my mouth before I can stop them. “Yes, Daddy!”
My heart stops in my chest as I realize my mistake.
It can’t be.
Say that this is a bad dream and that I did not just call Eli Tatum Daddy, while he spanks my bare ass.
Lying limp over his leg, I cringe waiting for his terrible reaction to my insane mistake.
“Mm... Daddy... I like that.” His voice is thick as he growls, “Good girl.”
His words stun me; his tone is laced with lust. I swear I feel the stirrings of an erection pressing into my hip. I’m bent over his hard thigh, locked against his groin. I can’t be imagining the sudden hardness.
The spanking is over. Relief washes over me as he slips my panties up over my bottom and pulls my dress back down into place. He rights me, but there’s no way I will ever be able to look him in the eyes again. I stand, my hands hovering at my hips, wanting
to rub my sore ass, but resisting, guessing that would be a mistake.
I can’t talk to him. I can’t look at him. I want a big black hole to form in the floor beneath me and swallow me whole.
The silly word repeats in my mind, over and over: Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.
Staring at the floor, I long to avoid his gaze after everything that’s just passed between us. But now, the tips of his fingers are beneath my chin, tilting my face up toward his. “Look at me.”
Despite my shame, I obey. His eyes are as dark as a midnight sky and I’m lost in their depths. The way he’s looking, it’s the way a man looks at a woman. One he desires.
He leans down, and his lips meet mine in the softest, gentlest of kisses.
My first kiss.
When he pulls away, I’m left swaying, my mind a fog of lust and love and dizziness.
“Charlotte, I...” His words falter but his gaze lingers. It’s deep and meaningful, and yearning, the same way he gazed at me when we were dancing tonight. The way he looked just before he pressed his lips to mine.
My lips still tingle from his kiss as my heart fills with hope. “Yes?”
His brow furrows, his face closing. The look is tucked away, replaced by a mask of indifference. Confusing me.
He takes both my hands in his. “Charlotte, I really care about you. That’s why I look after you like I do. I love you...”
He loves me?
Maybe I’m misreading him, but my heart soars to the moon, giving me the courage to finally tell him how I feel. “Eli, I—”
But he cuts my words off with the end of his sentence. Piercing my soul with his horrid words, he says, “Like a sister.”
Like a sister.
The words land heavy like a thud. Knocking the wind from my lungs and the words from my mouth. Tears burn at the backs of my eyes, threatening to make themselves known.
Silently, I look away. I don’t trust myself to speak without causing tears of disappointment to flow down my cheeks, furthering my humiliation. Crying in front of him now would break me.
He holds his arm out to me. I accept, allowing him to lead me back to my father. My night has ended.
With every step I take down that long hall, I tell myself that my heart hasn’t just been ripped from my chest. Try to convince myself that the connection I felt between us was nothing more than my imagination. Attempt to erase the memory of calling him Daddy.
Chapter Three
Three years later—present day
Eli
Rockland is after me to ‘settle down.’ He says it doesn’t bode well for a man in my position to be single. To date girls for a few months, then toss them away; his words, not mine.
His wife, Tess, insists that the men in the family should be married. That being single is too distracting to the work. She says we should have a warm body to come home to. A woman who will care for us as we cherish and protect her. Like her and Rockland.
I am in complete agreement.
There’s only one problem; I’ve not yet met the girl I want to settle down with. Sure, the women I date are intelligent, gorgeous, and have a wicked sense of humor. They’re chic, mature, women with expensive tastes that would fit right in with the Bachman Beauties.
And I’ve liked every single one of them.
I haven’t loved any of them.
In fact, right now I’m dating a famous actress. She’s amazing, and probably desired by most of the male population. I find myself losing interest. As always.
Why?
There’s a daddy hiding inside my heart. One that’s longing for a baby girl.
Until I find her, I’ll focus on my work. Tonight, my mission has taken me back to my small hometown in upstate New York. I’m standing in front of the home of the Greene family. Their daughter Charlotte returned from college today. She’s taken a job as an assistant to her father who’s an accountant for the Bachmans’ legit accounts.
It’s about midnight. The sky out here in my old upstate hometown is pitch black save for the moon and stars that dot the darkness.
The light in her room is off. I imagine her curled up in her bed, her hands folded beneath her cheek as she sleeps. Safe and sound.
Through the big picture window, I can see her dad snoozing in his chair, one of his favorite sci-fi movies playing as he sleeps. The only glow from within the house is the television, the colors dancing over the screen.
But I’m not here to watch TV.
I’m here because of the two men who are currently sneaking through the woods to Charlotte’s house. As security detail for the Village, I’ve been keeping an eye on a little issue we’ve been having in the form of an insider sharing information.
A Brother who’s sent these men here to collect the files Tom Greene has in his office. It turns out Tom’s got some paperwork tucked away in his drawer that he’s hiding for the family. Pages with privileged insights into which stocks to purchase, revealing information that could make these men a lot of money.
Rockland’s sent me tonight to spy. See how this goes down. Protect the Greene family if it comes to that, but otherwise keep a low profile.
As I see the first hint of their shadows approaching the house, I think of Charlotte.
My blood boils. My desire to kill takes over my willingness to obey Rockland’s orders.
Sure, I’m here tonight to protect her. But what if they come back. Wanting more.
Willing to hurt her to get what they want.
My palms sweat, my fist wrapping around the handle of my blade.
I can’t take that chance. I’ll deal with the repercussions of my actions but I know one thing for certain; these men will not live to see another day.
Hiding in the bushes, I creep around the side yard to the back. Where they are closing in on the rear entrance.
The count is one to two, but I have the element of surprise on my side, not to mention my training courtesy of the best and deadliest from the Brotherhood.
The first one goes down quickly, my knife sliding through his neck with ease. The second, having time to process my arrival and the death of his comrade, tries to make a break for it. But I’m faster.
I always am.
Having accomplished my mission, I signal to the men I have waiting in the truck. They come, helping me clean up. They wrap the bodies and haul them to the truck.
Before joining them, I take one last long look at Charlotte’s house, and wonder, what it is about this girl that has me risking my own ass to save hers?
* * *
Charlotte
Today is Tuesday, which means lunch with Emily, my favorite and only real friend outing since graduating college and moving back home last month. She was my chief stewardess two summers ago when I worked on the Bachmans’ super yacht, the Aphrodite. Emily fell in love with Captain Luca, and when she married Luca, she put in a good word for me to take her place.
I became chief stew last summer and called Emily almost every day with questions. It’s been a year since I worked on the boat, but we’ve still kept in touch.
It’s humiliating to admit, but I first got the job on the Aphrodite because I knew Eli would be working as the chief officer. I followed my heart, made a fool of myself, and basically spent the summer trying to win his attentions, with no success.
My only consolation is that he dated no one during that time, as he was so focused on joining the ranks of the Brotherhood.
The following summer when he was captain and I was chief stew, we barely saw one another, our minds set on succeeding in our promotions. In the end, the adventure was so worth it. I may not have gotten the prize I was going after, but instead, I found a lifelong friendship with Emily. And I’m glad I can look back on those two exciting summers when I’m bored, crunching numbers at my desk now.
After Emily married Luca, the two of them moved to the Bachmans’ secret compound in the city, the Village. She and I have been meeting up for lunch every single Tuesday since. We trade weeks; she comes my w
ay and we dine at the little deli in my small hometown in upstate New York, or I take the train to the city and we meet at Café Fresca. This is her week to come to me.
Rifling through my closet, I try to find a dress she hasn’t yet seen me wear. Emily is as humble as she is beautiful, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling the need to look halfway decent. I settle on a bright pink sundress.
Since marrying a Bachman, she became an instant billionaire, and though most of her wealth she donates to charity, her new friends, the Beauties, insist that she spend some money spoiling herself. She wears the most elegant couture, always looking as if she’s stepped off the pages of a magazine.
Emily’s joined her friends in their grooming habits as well. Weekly pedicures, manicures, and skin treatments are the standard protocol. Those girls are waxed, polished, and moisturized from head to toe. And her hair—don’t even get me started on how glossy and gorgeous her brunette locks are. When we worked on the boat, it was the standard issue ponytail, her hair swept back from her face and held with a black elastic. Now it falls down her shoulders in chocolate waves.
Sweeping a little blush on my cheeks—pale from my office job—and applying a touch of mascara, I feel a little more confident. Attempting to tame my curls, halfway through, I give up, staring at my out of control mane in the mirror. I settle for pinning it halfway up and grab my purse.
Descending the stairs, I pop my head into the office my father and I share. “I’m going to lunch! Be back in an hour.”
He raises his bushy gray brows at me. “It’s Tuesday. Which means your lunch with Emily. Which also means I won’t see you for at least two hours. Four if you’re headed to the city.”
“Oh, Dad, you know I only take a real lunch once a week. And she’s coming to town this time, which means you’ll only have to miss me half as much.”
His voice is stern, but a grin cracks over his face. “Fine. But just know you’ll be making up for it working double time when you get back.”
“The accounts will keep. I’ll hit them this afternoon.”
He turns back to the screen of his computer. “Be safe, sweetie. And tell Emily your mother and I say hello.”
Daddy Page 2