Beauty & Broken Daddy: A Second Chance Romance (Boss Daddies)

by Claire Angel

  After securing the freshest looking produce known to man, I settled in for an evening of Netflix and a good meal. Occasionally, I glanced at the news on the television from my open plan kitchen, while I prepared my dinner. My cell phone, on the counter next to the fruit bowl, rang as I got my hands stuck into the fish prep. Rather than covering the screen in fishy marinade, I answered with voice command.

  “Hey, Brooke. Let me guess. You’re up to your eyeballs in peeling, slicing, and dicing some god awful root vegetable from some foreign shore.”

  “Lucky guess, Jennifer. I’m starting to worry that I may be too predictable.” I laughed.

  “Nah! I just know you better than you know yourself. It is, after all, my duty as BFF to anticipate your every move.”

  “Now you sound like a stalker. Should I be concerned?” I asked in a stern yet mocking tone.

  “You’ll know you’re in trouble when we start finishing each other’s sentences.” She chuckled.

  Jennifer was my childhood friend. I considered myself fit, but compared to Jennifer, I was a couch potato. When we were in high school, she took part in as many sports as she could manage. At the age of nineteen, Jennifer got her big break when she was invited to join a pro golf, ladies team. Her new passion took her all over the world, and lately our escapades were limited to her infrequent visits home.

  “How long are you home for?” I asked and rinsed my hands under the faucet.

  “A whole month, baby! Get your dancing shoes on, girl, I need a night out on the town, and I’m willing to bet you do too.”

  “True dat. How about tomorrow night? I’ll pick you up at nine in my pocket rocket. Okay?”

  “It’s a date,” she said happily. “I can’t wait to catch up.”

  “Oh, and have I got a whopper for you,” I said.

  “You’re not knocked up, are you?”

  “Yeah, right. With the hordes of men coming and going from my apartment, it’s gonna be hard knowing who the father is,” I said sarcastically.

  “Still hiding from the boys, are we?”

  “Nope, just taking my time, scanning the hotty aisles.”

  “Well, don’t panic. Jennifer’s back in town. Mothers, lock up your horny sons.”

  “See you tomorrow night, you mad woman. Oh, and, I’m really glad you’re back. I missed you,” I said before we ended the call.

  “Of course you did. Who else will drag you out of your apartment and show you what fun lies beyond the books you’ve buried your nose in for so long? Later.”

  After a fabulous dinner, a binge session on Netflix, and two glasses of red wine, I took myself off to bed. I needed my beauty sleep if I hoped to keep up with Jennifer. I was out like a light almost as soon as my head hit the fluffy down pillow.

  Chapter 3

  NOAH

  “Well, hidey ho, bud! Father of the week tonight, or hound dog on the prowl?” Charlie said as he answered my call.

  “Drowning my sorrows in drink, me thinks.”

  “Oh dear, what did the bitch do this time?”

  “Same shit, different day. Cody’s supposed to come to me this weekend, but Cruella carted him off to see her parents,” I said.

  “I’m sorry, bud. Never mind. I know exactly what to do to get your mind off it. Meet me at the club at nine. Perhaps I can rustle up a hottie or three to mend your broken heart. Nothing soothes a boo-boo like an orgasm.” He laughed.

  “Can’t argue with you there.” I laughed. “Okay, see you later.”

  Charlie hung up and despite my fury, I felt moderately better. There was a knock on the door, and Martha popped her head around the corner.

  “Come in, Martha. What can I do for you?”

  Martha walked over and sat down in the chair across from me. She looked like she had something on her mind.

  “I know this is asking a lot, Noah, but I hope you’ll understand.”

  “Oh shit, don’t tell me you’re retiring and flying off to some tropical destination to join the peace corps,” I said with a stern face.

  “Close enough, but not quite.”

  “What is it?” I asked, a little concerned. I couldn’t lose her. She was too valuable to me.

  “I have an opportunity to travel with a group of people to a spiritual retreat. I’ve been longing to do this for many years, but circumstances were never favorable.”

  “I see. And, how long is this adventure going to take?” I asked.

  “That’s the thing. I’ll be gone for six months.”

  “Six months! That’s crazy, Martha. I can’t do without you for that long,” I almost yelled.

  Martha looked dejected, but she wasn’t backing down.

  “Noah, you’ve been very good to me all these years, and I have done my level best to ensure that your office runs smoothly. Please, I need this. I know it’s sudden, but I’ll be sure to slot in an excellent temporary replacement.”

  “I need to think about this, Martha.”

  “That’s good enough. But I need an answer soon. Thank you, Noah. Your ten o’clock is here. Shall I send him in?”

  “Who is it?” I asked, feeling a bit like a sulky child.

  “Robin from the planning department.”

  “Okay, give me five minutes, then show her in, please.”

  “Sure.”

  Martha stood up, straightened her skirt, and left my office. I was reeling from the news she dropped on me. I should have stayed in bed. What a fucking day. I didn’t want to lose her. Damn it! A few minutes later, Robin and I tackled plans and permissions for a new project we were working on.

  Robin was good at what she did. She was thorough and a dog with a bone when she set her mind on something. She usually charmed her way into the good graces of the powers that be down at city hall, leaving me to get on with the practical side of development and construction, and not the endless red tape. I wasn’t the most amiable person, so I left the sweet talk up to her.

  After an hour of catchup, she left. I made a few calls, and then sat back and considered Martha’s request. If it had been anyone else, I would have told them to fuck right off, but it was Martha, and I had a soft spot for her. I leaned across my desk and dialed her internal line.

  “Yes, Noah?” she answered.

  “Come in here for a moment, please,” I said.

  She brought her notepad and a pen and sat down.

  “You won’t need that, Martha,” I said, and she put the notepad and pen down on the edge of my desk. She looked at me, ready to hear what I had to say.

  “Martha, you know I’m not warm and fuzzy. I don’t suffer fools, and what I don’t need is a temp who needs babysitting.” She nodded, and I went on. “I value your contribution as an employee, and I’d like to think that we’ve become friends over the years. So, in honor of that relationship, I’ll acquiesce to your request for extended leave.”

  Her eyes lit up at my words, and I couldn’t help feeling pleased with myself. It wasn't often that I elicited a happy response from anyone, let alone my employees.

  “Thank you, Noah. That’s wonderful news.”

  “Who’ll be replacing you while you’re off in lala land?” I asked with a grin.

  “Actually, in anticipation of your magnanimous decision,” she said with an equally wicked grin, “I’ve asked Brooke to step in until I return.”

  “Your daughter, Brooke?”

  “Yes. She’s just graduated from university and won’t be joining a firm until next year. She is plenty savvy. You won’t be disappointed.”

  “I see. And when are you leaving?”

  “In three weeks’ time.”

  “What would you have done if I refused?” I asked before she left the room.

  “I knew you’d say yes. I have great faith in your kind heart.” She grinned.

  “That makes one of us,” I said as she closed the door behind her.

  I remembered seeing a photo of Brooke Jones on Martha’s desk. The picture was a few years old, but the girl was
very attractive, if memory serves.

  Fed up and out of sorts, I called it a day and left the office. I decided to squeeze in a round of golf. The club was busy, as always, and fortunately for me, a four ball was one man short, so I volunteered and spent the afternoon slicing and putting furiously to secure victory. Drinks were on the losing team. I was thirsty.

  I called home before we teed off.

  “Hi, Janice. I’ll be home for dinner, thanks.”

  “I’ll get on it,” she said, sweetly, then hung up.

  After a beer or two at the golf club, I went home, had dinner, and relaxed before hitting the town with Charlie. It was never wise to go out partying on an empty stomach—I’d learned that the hard way. I looked out over the green expanse of lawn where Max and Cody would be running around on. But thanks to Cassandra, the lawn was a ghost town. My heart ached for my child. It was a curious pain in the pit of my gut, a longing and a sadness that transcended words. His intensely brown eyes were always laughing, no matter what the circumstance. The boy was a pill. One look at him, and I knew instantly who I was working so hard for, who I longed to be with all the time. Cody was my world, and Cassandra the destructive meteor hurtling toward us.

  At a quarter to nine, I fired up the Jag and headed to the club to meet my partner in crime. It was Friday night, and everybody and their dog was out celebrating the end of a working week. I imagined the mood on modern day Fridays to be akin to the announcement of the thirteen years of prohibition in the early 1900s—thirsty! The club was buzzing with execs letting down their hair, horny men on the prowl, pretty young things trawling for Mr. Right, and men like me—bitter and twisted and allergic to romantic relationships.

  Charlie breezed in, armed with his easy demeanor and gregarious air, and joined me at the bar.

  “Good crowd tonight. See a bit of fluff you like?”

  “Hello to you, too, Charles.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Life is short, and we aren’t getting any younger, so let’s dispense with the pleasantries, and find a bit of pussy.” He grinned at me with devilish intent.

  “Charlie, you’re a narcissist and a rogue. Am I allowed to order a drink first, or shall I proceed straight into humping a floozy in the ladies toilets?”

  “Oohh, you are in a bad mood. Okay, booze first. What are you having?” he asked as he sat down at the bar counter.

  “Whiskey, double.”

  “You heard the man, bartender. Two double whiskeys, stat, and keep ‘em coming,” he called to the young man dressed in a fancy uniform.

  As quick as lightning, and in the show-offish fashion of Tom Cruise in Cocktail, the young man whipped out two glasses and a bottle of the good stuff, and poured double tots in flamboyant fashion. Charlie and I smiled at each other with a ‘what a nob’ look on our faces.

  “So, what are your plans for the weekend, seeing as you’re flying solo?” Charlie asked me after doing substantial damage to his first drink.

  “Looks like Max and I will be doing lots of forest hikes and our fair share of sulking. Besides, it’s been a hellish week, so I better take a decent break, and veg about.”

  “Veg about? Fuck, mate. When did you become such an old fart?” Charlie asked me.

  “Says the man with no children and no real job!”

  “Oi, I work plenty, thank you very much.” He grinned.

  “Yeah, if you consider strutting around your family’s luxury yacht showroom ‘working’.”

  “Convincing those with plenty of ill-gotten dough to part with a few coins is a lot harder than you think, buddy.”

  “I’ll bet. Anyway, what are you doing this weekend? Which gorgeous heiress’ pom-poms will you be fluffing?” I asked.

  “I could tell you, but then I’d have to shoot you. A gentleman never tells.” He laughed.

  “That bad, hey?”

  “Not for me it isn't. She’s a firecracker, this one. Heaps of fun. I think I may even have chafing issues.”

  “You’re a pig.”

  “Nice darts. So, what’s the deal at work? Why did you have a bad week?” Charlie asked as he nodded to the barman for a refill.

  “Same, usual shit. Pedantic architects, clients who keep changing their building plans, inflated egos at the planning department, PA leaving for six months, you know, nothing huge,” I said, downing my drink.

  “Ho, back up. Where’s Martha going?” he said with a confused look.

  “Bloody ra ra retreat!”

  “I see. How sure are you she won’t come back a hippy with Birkenstocks and long, flowing tie-dyed dresses?” Charlie smirked. “Crazier things have happened, you know.”

  “That’s comforting, Charles. Thank you very much for that. No, I can’t see my organised Martha traveling the globe, banging on bongo drums and chanting.”

  “Are you letting her go?”

  “What else can I do? The woman is the backbone of my operation. If I say no she may tell me to shove my job up my ass. I had to say yes.”

  “Oh, bollocks. You love that old duck. You are being very kind to her,” Charles said, patting me on the back.

  He wasn’t wrong.

  “Enough crying into your drink, Noah. Let’s get out there and have some fun. I see two gorgeous girls over there with our names on them.”

  Charlie downed his second drink, straightened his very expensive, button down, designer shirt, and made a beeline for the target. I followed, not really in the mood for small talk and congeniality, but sick of wallowing in a puddle of sorry. The dark-haired girl with olive skin and huge tits gave me the look. Things were looking up.

  Chapter 4

  BROOKE

  My cell phone rang early. The caller ID showed ‘Mom’.

  “I’m still sleeping, Mom.”

  “What? It’s seven o’clock! Up up up.”

  “Ma! You do know I’m an adult now, don’t you? Besides, it’s Saturday. I always lie in on a Saturday.”

  “I’ve got exciting news, and I can’t wait until you decide to get out of bed,” she said in a happy tone.

  “You won at bridge last night,” I said facetiously.

  “I’m off on a six-month retreat! Noah said it’s fine.”

  “Oh, yay. You are way too upbeat for someone who just threw their only offspring in front of a moving bus.” I moaned.

  “Oh, come now. It won’t be that bad, surely. The money’s good.”

  “I’m happy for you, Mom. I’m sure you’re going to love the trip. I’m going back to sleep now, and I’ll pop by for lunch. I figure you owe me large. I’ll accept a homemade lasagne as my bribery.”

  “It’s a date. See you for lunch, darling.” She giggled and hung up.

  I closed my eyes and rolled over to go back to sleep. I turned on my left side, then on my right, but just couldn’t get back to sleep. After ten minutes I gave up. I was having such a good sleep, too, dang it.

  Rolling onto my back, I stared up at the ceiling for a while, wondering if working for Noah Blakely was such a good idea. But it was too late to change my mind. The deal was done, and I couldn’t back out and let my mother down.

  I swung my legs out of bed and felt for my slippers. They were new, still fluffy, my favorite. I never wore PJs when I slept, only panties. It was weird to some, but I didn’t care. I was a squirmer when I slept and woke up too many times as a young girl entangled in whatever I was wearing at the time. It was liberating sleeping in the buff. I made sure my dressing gown was always within reach—just in case of a fire or some other natural disastrous event. I did have the option of leaving it off if ever a cute fireman came to rescue me. A girl can never be too careful.

  I dragged myself to the kitchen and hit the switch on my coffee pod machine. I didn’t miss my university days when a plunger, a pour over, or worse, instant granules, were my poorly executed, caffeine kick, delivery system. Long live the crema on a good cup of coffee.

  My morning consisted of loafing about and reading a novel. At around noon, I changed into accepta
ble outdoor gear and drove my Mini over to Mom and Dad’s. Both my parents’ cars were in the driveway, so I parked on the curb outside the house. Dad was outside polishing his Alfa Spider. He spent more time on his four wheeled baby than any other human alive, washing, polishing, buffing, whispering sweet nothings. Mom was grateful. It kept him out of her hair.

  “You’re going to polish the paint right off that mistress of yours, Dad,” I said as I walked over to him, and kissed him on the cheek.

  “They don’t spray paint ‘em like this anymore, sweety. Not even a hailstorm could peel off her gorgeous tooshie.” Dad smiled and winked at me with playful eyes.

  “If you say so.”

  “What’s this I hear about you doing hard labor for the next six months?”

  “Uhg. Mom caught me for a sucker. I’ll be kowtowing to her boss while she’s off saving the planet. I still don’t know how she talked me into it.” I smirked.

  “You know your mother. If she wants something, there’s nothing alive or dead that can stop her.”

  Dad’s tone was jocular, but he was spot on in his assessment of Mom’s character. He told me once that it was Mom’s spunk and determination that made him fall head over heels for her.

  “I do think that it will be good experience for you,” he carried on. “University isn’t the real world, you know. They’re nice to you there.”

  “Clearly you haven’t been for a while. They kicked my ass over there.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second. You did all the ass kicking yourself, my little overachiever. The professors are probably relieved that you’re gone so they can rest.” He laughed out loud at that statement because he knew it was right on the money.

  “Ha ha. I’m going inside, now. Hopefully, Mom will be nicer to me.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it.” He laughed.

  My dad was adorable. Mom was in the kitchen, sprinkling grated cheddar and mozzarella over the top of the lasagne, then popping it into the oven. I was delighted to spot the garlic bread, wrapped in tinfoil, waiting for its chance to join the lasagne in the oven. I would kill for garlic bread.