Daddy Plus One: A Single Dad Secret Baby Billionaire Romance

by Brooke Valentine

  “You insisted on bringing me to that awful party. I understand you’re Michael’s bestie, but that doesn't mean we have to be here for his daughter. Besides that, Sarah is a brat. Who organizes a carnival for their 25th birthday? It’s ridiculous.”

  “You will never speak of Sarah in such a manner again,” Garrett warned when Elizabeth caught the rage in his eyes. She’d stopped speaking the moment she’d seen it, which was good because Garrett didn’t know how long he’d be able to keep himself from flying off the handlebars at her.

  They were both saved from further embarrassment when their driver appeared, the hulking, blacked-out SUV would have every comfort she could ask for. Garrett opened the door for her as soon as the vehicle had come to a stop, and ushered her inside. He waited until the tail lights had gone out of sight before he took a deep breath. It wasn’t like him to play into Elizabeth’s games so easily. He’d spent ten years with the woman; he knew her games and understood her stupidity. He did his best not to allow himself to get angry with her, though he found when it came to his relationships or especially the closest ones with Michael and his family, he could not control his anger.

  “She’s gone?” asked a familiar, sweet voice behind him.

  It was Garrett's turn to blanche. He straightened himself before turning slowly to see Sarah, her expression concerned. She had put on a maxi dress over her bathing suit, and slipped into some plain sandals. She looked unsure, her clever eyes sympathetic. Her fingers played with the fringe on the Maxi dress, a nervous habit she’d developed as a child.

  “Yes,” he said with a blustery sigh. “She’s gone. Sarah, I’m so sorry. I will happily pay for the damages,” Garrett responded automatically, as he’d done so with so many other clients.

  Sarah only gave him a warm smile, and came closer. Her arms slipped around his shoulders, and she embraced him. Her curves pressed perfectly into his body, and he allowed himself to hug her too, resting his cheek against the crown of her head. He let himself linger in the embrace. He’d missed the warmth of a woman. He missed being wanted. When she finally let go of him, Garrett felt his loneliness as prevalent as ever.

  “I’m sorry. You don’t have to pay for anything, Garrett. I’m just sorry she’s like that to you. You could do so much better, you know,” Sarah said, her lips quirking down into a little pout.

  Garrett offered a rueful grin. “Know anyone?” he asked dryly.

  Sarah flushed a scarlet color all the way to her temples and shook her head. “No, I don’t, but still,” she fumbled, her eyes moving to the ground in her embarrassment.

  Garrett smiled, reaching out to guide her eyes to his with a touch of his hand to her chin. “Thanks for looking out for me,” he said.

  Sarah beamed up at him with her warm, sunny smile. She shrugged and said, “Any time, Garrett.”

  For a moment they were the only ones there. For just a single moment, Garrett didn’t care who saw, his lips itched to claim hers, and she looked as if she felt the same. No, he reminded himself sternly, you have no idea how she feels and you can’t expect her to feel the same way. Garrett broke the staring contest first, and clearing his throat indicated the front door.

  “After you,” he offered.

  Sarah walked ahead with a small smile on her lips, and the two returned to the party.

  2

  Her lithe, little hands across his chest, parting the smattering of curls on his torso. Her hot, warm mouth at his neck where her soft plush lips had lain a million steamy kisses, a thousand appealing, little nips. Her soft, blonde curls cascading into an arc around her slender shoulders, as if she wore a halo. Her hips pressed against his as he thrust into her again, and again. The way her thighs gripped his as he looked down at her, pounding into her in a feverish, animalistic pace. The scent of their mingled sweat and love-making; the sound of his hips slapping against her supple rear—

  Garrett woke alone in the massive suite of his home, as he did most mornings. He frowned up at the ceiling for a few, long minutes, trying in vain to recapture the magic of his dream. His body already thrummed with the need his imagination had kindled, yet in the waking world it could not be as all-encompassing as in his dream state. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to remember the way his sleeping mind had painted such an appealing picture.

  Sarah. Sarah, on her back in this very bed. Laying in the white sheets, the deep red velvet of the comforter behind her. She’d looked like an angel, laid bare for him. She’d wanted him, in his dream. Sarah had wanted him just as much as he’d pined for her. She’d come to his bed willingly, and he had taken her in every conceivable way possible. Most of all, he’d made love to her as he’d never made love to any woman before.

  His body responded to the memory of the dream, and his hand slid under the covers automatically. He felt guilty to think of her in such a way, but he’d long since stopped trying when she’d turned eighteen. Sometimes forbidden fruit seemed the most tempting, and Garrett tried to tell himself it was just a case of temptation. Yet as he lay in bed, stroking himself to the memory of a dream, he couldn’t deny his attraction for her.

  Hours later, when he’d roused himself from bed, he made his way to the kitchen where breakfast was waiting. Mrs. Henderson had been Garrett’s father’s maid, and now worked for him. She was mostly responsible for running the house, but she made breakfast and dinner every day despite Garrett assuring her he did not need her to. Today, he was especially grateful because she’d made eggs, which was a favorite of his.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Henderson,” he said as he took the heaping plate from the kitchen, bemused he hadn’t surprised her. “How did you know I was awake?”

  “Your shower, dear. It’s rather loud. Even for me.” She gave him a mischievous wink, and Garrett couldn’t help the small smile creeping upon his lips. His expansive shower was the crown jewel of his home, in his opinion. In addition to the myriad of shower heads, it came equipped with a complete surround-sound radio, one he’d blasted Led Zeppelin on while taking his morning shower.

  “Sorry about that. I’ll keep it down next time.” He winked at her and she rolled her eyes at him, before straightening her silvery bun.

  “You absolutely will not, you cheeky liar,” she chided, smiling up at her employer.

  They both knew she was right. Eating in peace, he checked his phone. There was a security alert that let him know Elizabeth had not come home last night— which he deleted without opening, as it was received nearly daily— and then another email from Michael.

  Garrett, I need to ask a favor of you concerning Sarah. Since graduating in October, she hasn’t been able to find work in her field. I know your company is in the same field. Any chance she could get a job there, or at least an internship? Please meet me for lunch to discuss.-M. Hemmings

  Garrett didn’t need to know the where or when as his best friend was the most predictable of men. If he said lunch, he meant the little mom-and-pop Italian place at one, though he’d be there ten minutes early. Garrett would show up at one, as was expected of him.

  *****

  Garrett opened the door to the little Italian restaurant, noting that Michael was already in his favored booth. With a slight pang of disappointment, Garrett noted that he was alone, which meant Sarah didn’t know about the job offer on line for her. It could be bad, considering Sarah’s love of plain old disobedience. She’d never stuck a course anyone else had given her, ever. So as Garrett sat down in the booth, he was curious how Michael would pitch the idea to his daughter.

  “I’ll give it to you straight,” Michael said as Garrett sat down, not bothering with his normal greetings, “Sarah’s been told ‘no’ to eighteen different interviews. Several were because she didn’t have experience. Some were for bullshit reasons, or because I’m her father, so on and so forth. The list goes on. She can’t escape my shadow, and she can’t seem to get anyone to let her get her foot in the door. She’s got a Master's Degree from Harvard! She should easily find a job. I thi
nk really, she just needs the experience. I don’t expect you to pay her, but could you find somewhere for her to intern? You have a business law firm inside the Watt’s tower, so maybe there? I’d feel better with you there,” Michael continued, stress making him splutter his ideas with no end in sight. When he got like this, Garrett didn’t interrupt. Eventually, Michael would come to natural conclusion on his own, and Garrett would wait patiently for it. Besides, it gave him time to consider the situation.

  Sarah, in close proximity, every day.

  His libido was jumping for joy at the idea, though his brain already knew nothing could or would come of it. Yet, after her birthday in August, he’d had no excuse to see her again. He’d been frustrated at best, and angry at worst. Constantly searching for a way or excuse to see her. It seemed Michael had given him just that reason.

  “She wants to be a PR specialist, if I’m remembering correctly?” Garrett ventured, thumb toying with yesterday's’ five o’clock shadow he hadn’t bothered to shave. He knew it true; she’d told him all about it in excited hushed voices before she’d pitched it to her father. Michael nodded in agreement.

  “Yes, I was thinking that might be a good fit too,” he admitted, giving his friend a warm smile. “I just didn’t want to impose more than I’ve already asked.”

  Garrett smiled, and reached out to pat his best friend on the arm. “Of course she can come work under me as the head of the PR team. At least, she can intern. Celeste will still run the game, but she’ll teach her all she needs to know before she’s hired somewhere. Plus, she’ll have networking opportunities and references. It will work out hugely in her favor,” Garrett smiled, “I will pay her, of course.”

  Michael sighed in relief, and smiled at his friend. “Thank you. We just don’t have a PR place to put her in. We could do the smaller companies, but I’m afraid she might be treated too gently, and she doesn't need that. Sarah’s a smart girl.”

  Garrett was glad for the table between them, because his libido was already thinking of all the times he’d like to treat her less than gently. The sordid dreams came unbidden to his mind, and Garrett swallowed hard in frustration. He felt guilty for lusting after Sarah, let alone with her father right in front of him, yet his desires were present nonetheless. It seemed his brain was the only part of him that could rationalize the problem.

  “So, does she know?” Garrett asked, as the waitress came and delivered their chosen dishes. The staff never asked anymore, they simply started cooking when Michael came in. They both thanked the waitress and dug into the seafood pasta.

  “No, she doesn't. But I’ll tell her tonight.” Michael paused to eat another bite, “I know she’ll resent me a little, but I’m her father. That’s part of the package.”

  Garrett only hoped that she wouldn’t resent him, too.

  3

  “Thank you so much.”

  Perhaps she’d sounded a less sarcastic in her life, but Sarah Hemmings doubted it. She watched her father exit her room, frustration on her face. She’d graduated in October and yet, here she was, jobless. She’d tried, oh, how she’d tried. She had gone to job interviews, recruiting campaigns, group interviews, company tours, drug tests, networking meetings, and a thousand other business-related events. Each and every one of them had hit a dead end eventually. Each ended in disappointment, be it due to her father, her lack of experience, or even for simply being a woman. No one had wanted to hire her. She’d tried a false name to distance herself from her father's reputation as a shrewd businessman with an eye for hostile takeovers. That had gone about as well as every other venture: failure, all over.

  Sarah swung her legs back and forth, her slip-on flats scuffing the ground under her feet. She stared down at the plush carpet with annoyance, and blew a stray hair from her face. It wasn’t that she was strictly against working with her father's best friend, but that no one had thought to ask her. In truth, she was eager to work with Garrett; he was a clever and ingenious businessman who ran a rather transparent company. He did things not only by the book, but he ascribed to doing things in such a way that it might help others. His business funded housing for the homeless, and donated to charity regularly. All in all it wasn’t a bad gig, but she hated that no one had thought to ask her how she felt about it. Yes, there was a certain amount of privilege being the daughter of one of America’s most wealthy men, but Sarah had never really asked for anything either. She lived rather humbly, despite her upbringing. Her father had been a humble man before he’d built his way to the top, and so he’d instilled the same value into Sarah. ‘Money did not make the heart fund, or the deed good,’ he’d always told her.

  She stood and paced in front of the window, considering her options. She could refuse, but that was really just shooting herself in the foot. She didn’t want to rely on her father for help, and this still felt like relying on him. Yet it wouldn’t be with him, and Garrett had said he would treat her like anyone else. She hoped not, at least not by him. Her stomach did a funny little flip-flop at the thought of him, and she blushed. It was normal, she thought, for girls to experience lust for male figures in their lives. But it had proved to be more than infatuation or lust; she’d been looking at him since she had hit puberty. She still remembered when he’d married that awful ice queen. He’d asked her to be his flower girl, and told her he was getting married. She had cried, and he had hugged her and held her, wrongly assuming she was crying in joy. Sarah had never bothered to correct him.

  It wasn’t so bad, she finally decided. After all, she could be close to Garrett, and that would make it all the better.

  *****

  Entering the immense Watt’s Tower, Sarah made her way to the elevator without stopping at reception. Hitting the button, she waited anxiously as she watched the three to see which one would come down fastest.

  “Ma’am? Are you Sarah Hemmings?” the receptionist looked just as nervous as Sarah felt.

  “Yes, I’m here for my 9:30 appointment with Mr. Skjaervo,” Sarah informed her quickly, as if the woman might eject her for her nervousness.

  “Oh, good, here, you’ll need this key! The elevator won’t take you to the top without it,” the nervous brunette shuffled around her desk before retrieving a black card and heading over to hand it off to Sarah.

  “Thank you,” Sarah said, rushing into elevator that opened nearest to her. She inserted the key under the 61st floor, and hit the button, sending the elevator quietly rising. For the tenth time since entering the building, she took a look at her watch to confirm she was five minutes early. Lastly, she straightened her black midi skirt and made sure her grey cardigan looked good. A final check of her up-do ponytail and her makeup in the elevator’s reflective paneling, and she was ready.

  The doors opened with a near silent ding and Sarah stepped out, momentarily lost. There was a reception area in cool blues and chrome. A desk with two attractive, nearly identical brunettes sat in front of a wall of frosted glass, both typing away on keyboards. Neither looked up to see her until she approached.

  “Excuse me, I have-”

  “A 9:30 with Mr. Skjaervo. We know,” said the leftmost one cheerfully. The woman on the right was already dialing into a phone, and speaking. Sarah could hear her tell the other person that Sarah Hemmings was here. For a moment, a wave of defeat crashed over her. This would be just the same as any other interview – not even her longtime family friend would hire her for an internship!

  “Mr. Skjaervo will see you now,” chirped the left one again, indicating a recess in the glass panel to her left.

  Sarah nodded a thank you, headed to the recess, and walked down the hall. Entering the office, Sarah wondered why he ever went home. The three walls that did not face the reception area were glass, giving an incredible view of the city and its skyline. The floors and ceiling were a disorienting black shade of tile, and the room was decorated modernly with chrome and white fixtures. There was a fish tank to one side, a chaise lounge with sitting area, a wet bar, and
two more enormous fish tanks. A fireplace sat near the seating area, and at the far back was a black marble desk.

  The desk itself was immense. It seemed to be raw cut from a large piece of granite with white fissures breaking up the sleek, dark color. The front was roughhewn, but the top was as smooth as could be. For a moment, Sarah wondered if the front of the desk might give someone bending over the desk a place to grip. Was it designed for that? Would Sarah ever get to test it out?

  She wanted to.

  Sarah swallowed and made her way towards the desk and the single white chair opposite. Garrett stood near the furthest corner, a headset indicating the person he was speaking to was not her.

  Framed in the light of an early morning, Sarah tried her best not to swoon. Garrett was a hair taller than her father, his physique under his suit all lean muscle. His jaw was square, and he’d taken to letting a beard grow, though he kept it closely trimmed. His hair was dark and cut short, styled up with the minimum effort he liked to put into his hair. The smattering of silver throughout hair and beard did not detract from his look, but seemed to instead enhance it. His skin was tan, more from his mixed heritage than any time in the sun or tanning bed, and his eyes were a lovely, warm shade of blue.

  He finished his phone call and turned to Sarah, his lips quirking up into that sexy almost-smile that still sent a thrill of lust down her spine.

  “Let's begin, shall we?”

  4

  She’d hoped he meant something more sinister. Or at least, something more sultry.

  Outlining the Christmas Party was not exactly what she’d had in mind. However, half of the time Garrett stood over her, his arms on either side of her as he watched her write. She could practically feel him pressed against her, though he kept his distance. She could smell his cologne, and found it was difficult to concentrate. At one point she’d leaned back, brushing against his chest, and he had stayed where he was, reading what she’d written.