Secret Daddy

by Lucy Wild

  ONE

  EVANGELINE

  “Please do this for me, I’ll be your slave for life, please, please, please.”

  “All right,” I replied, looking down at the stricken form of my housemate, Clare, laid out on the sofa. “You’ve only got a cold, I feel I should point out.”

  “It’s the worst cold in the history of the world,” she said, sneezing loudly as an exclamation mark to finish her sentence.

  She nodded towards the coffee table and I sighed, picking up the parcel she was supposed to deliver. “You’ll be my slave for life?”

  “Well, for a week at least. Remember it’s got to be there by six.”

  The couriers Clare worked for were all right but they were pretty strict about time off. If she’d arranged to deliver something and then didn’t, the delay meant she lost a week’s pay. If I didn’t do this for her, she’d have worked all week for free for the sake of a single remaining parcel that had arrived late on our doorstep. She carried things the last few miles for the personal service some customers demanded.

  I looked at the address on the front of the box. Dominic Hawke, Skyview Apartment, Riverside Building. Right in the middle of the city. “You’ll have to get them to buzz you in,” Clare said, noticing my look. “It’s one of those sealed in for rich snobs places, don’t like us riffraff just wandering in there with our working class values.”

  “Since when were you working class?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “Your father’s a lecturer and your mother is an interior designer.”

  “I’m more working class than the people in Riverside. You should see them, all tuxedos and top hats, and that’s just the kids.”

  I sighed. “Drink your hot lemon thing and get some rest while I go do your shift in the coalmine.”

  “All right, don’t tease me when I’m not well enough to fight back.”

  “Why not? I can’t get away with it the rest of the time.”

  I headed towards the hallway to collect my bike. She was pretty sick and I wasn’t really up to much.

  “Oh, by the way,” she called after me, “the guy you’re delivering to can be a bit prickly, just be aware.”

  “What do you mean, prickly? Is he a cactus or something?”

  “You know the type, all money, no manners. Thinks that because he’s hot, he can get away with being an arrogant twat.”

  “He’s hot, is he?”

  “Trust you to focus on that part. Yes, he’s hot. No, you haven’t got a chance. I doubt he sleeps with anyone with an income lower than six figures, or a waist above six inches.”

  “Way to crush my dreams before they start.”

  “You wouldn’t want him, Evangeline. Trust me. He’s rude as hell. I’ve yet to have a thank you from him when I’ve dropped anything off. Half the time, he just snatches it out of my hand without a word. Now, go on, get out of here. You’ve only got an hour.”

  I didn’t feel too resentful about delivering her parcel even if her description of the recipient made me a little bit nervous. It was a nice enough evening and it gave me the perfect excuse for a bike ride. There was an off-road path that weaved along the old railway line right into the heart of the city and it would bring me out just a couple of minutes away from Riverside. I could hardly miss it anyway, a gleaming tower of glass that seemed to have sprung up almost overnight. I had no idea which one was Skyview Apartment but a place like that would no doubt have a doorman who’d tell me where I needed to go. If he’d let me inside of course. There was always the chance he’d take the parcel from me, save me the trouble.

  I pushed my bike out of the front door whilst shouting bye and being rewarded with two loud sneezes in response. With the parcel in my basket, I set off, heading along the road towards the traffic lights at the end of our street. There was a light breeze which was just enough to keep the heat of the summer evening from being oppressive. The sun was starting to sink.

  Another couple of weeks of summer and it would be back to university for my final year. I wasn’t even sure I was doing the right course anymore. Philosophy was an interesting enough subject but it wasn’t where my heart was. I wasn’t an academic by nature, I was a baker. I was already regretting not studying catering. I pushed the thought away. Why ruin such a nice evening with thoughts of the stresses to come. Better to enjoy it while it lasted.

  It normally took half an hour to get into the city but this time I was less than ten minutes in before the bike started to slow down. Glancing at my wheel, I immediately saw why. The back tyre was going down. By the time I stopped and hopped off to have a look, it was completely flat. I went to take my rucksack off to dig out the puncture kit before realising I’d left my bag at home.

  “Just great,” I said out loud before looking at the time on my phone. “That’s just perfect.”

  I tried to decide whether to walk home and fix the puncture or walk on. I chose to walk. It didn’t really matter to me that I was walking. I was sure I’d still get there in plenty of time. Which shows how stupid I am.

  The Riverside building loomed just ahead of me and it looked as if I’d reach it in just a couple of minutes. But it didn’t seem to get any closer as I walked and by the time five to six rolled around, I was still a couple of streets away. “Sorry, Clare,” I said out loud, breaking into a half jog, the bike rolling along with a wobble next to me as the tyre struggled to stay on the wheel.

  I got to the front door of the building at five past six. There was a doorman but he was on the other side of the glass. I waved at him and held up the parcel. He nodded imperiously, swiping a keycard to let me inside. “Can I help you?” he asked, glancing from me to the bike.

  “I’ve a parcel for Skyview Apartment. Can you tell me where I need to go?”

  “Top floor, the penthouse,” he replied. “You may leave your bicycle with me if you wish.”

  “As long as you don’t ride off on it,” I said, hoping for a smile. Fat chance.

  Leaving him holding the bike, I climbed into the lift and punched the button for the top floor. The lift smelt of roses. Did they pump the smell in? Was this how the other half lived? Floral scent and a lift bigger than my kitchen?

  When the doors slid open on the top floor, I stepped out into a square room filled with tall plants in terracotta pots. The carpet was so thick my feet didn’t make a sound as I walked towards the only door which was directly opposite the lift. I pressed the button next to the door and waited.

  Nothing happened. I pressed the button again. Still nothing. I gave it thirty seconds before digging out my phone. Clare hadn’t told me what I was supposed to do if no one answered. The phone hadn’t even started ringing when the door opened and a man appeared, making me almost drop the phone to the floor at the sight of him.

  I could see at once what Clare meant when she’d said he was hot. He wasn’t just hot, he was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. He was in his mid thirties, wearing a very expensive bespoke black suit with white shirt and crimson red tie. His hair was jet black and neatly trimmed.

  In fact everything about him was neat and tidy, even the hint of stubble on his chiselled jaw. He looked every inch the arrogant businessman, from his furious eyes to the way he impatiently tapped his foot as he looked at me as if he was expecting someone else. He scowled as I recoiled from his glare, unable to bear the anger radiating out from him.

  “You’re late,” he snapped, before blinking in surprise as he looked at me properly for the first time. “Who are you?”

  TWO

  DOMINIC

  I was angry enough at how late he was before the doorbell even rang. I’d forgotten all about the parcel that was due to arrive. I’d come home after the longest day at the office in months and within minutes of getting inside, my phone was already demanding my attention. I ignored it the first couple of times. It could at least wait until I’d had a drink.

  I’d been out of the house since half five that morning, the early start was the only way I could squeeze in an hour at
the gym before getting going on with another hard day. I was at work by six thirty and I hadn’t stopped until I finally forced myself away just after five in the evening. I hadn’t even had time to eat. A workaholic, my father had always called me, as if he hadn’t been exactly the same, as if it wasn’t hard work that had built the empire I now ruled on his behalf.

  Only when my glass was empty of everything except melting ice did I answer my phone, Archibald on the other end, the panic evident in his voice. “You’ve heard then?” he asked. “What the hell are we going to do?”

  He could panic. I had no intention of doing so. What good was panicking? Better to keep a cool head, fix the problem first, let the heads roll later. “If you mean, have I heard that there’s a gaping hole in our finances that seems to have appeared from nowhere, then yes, I have heard. As to what we’re going to do, isn’t that your job? You’re the accountant, aren’t you?”

  “I’m coming over. I’ll be there by six.”

  I went to say, “No, you’re not coming over,” but he’d already hung up. So much for having some time to myself to think. Archibald seemed to think that because he’d worked for my father for years, he could get away with shit like that. I only let him for now because he was a goddamned genius with figures. Or so I’d thought. Thirty million missing. How the hell had it happened? How had he not spotted it before now?

  In a way, I was glad he was coming over. I could let him know how serious this was. If he didn’t fix it and the shareholders found out, we were fucked with a capital F and there wasn’t a corporation in the world that would hire him. I poured myself another drink, mulling over whether or not to tell my father. Was it worth worrying him? Would he even understand how serious this was?

  When the doorbell went at quarter past, I was livid. Archibald was late. I fucking hated people not being on time. “You’re late,” I said as I pulled open the door, realising at once that it wasn’t Archibald. “Who are you?”

  It was a girl holding my parcel. I remembered it then. Something else that was supposed to be here before six. It wasn’t that it was urgent that my latest pocket watch was here by six. It was that the company had told me it would be. If someone makes you a promise, they should keep it. Simple good business sense. If they couldn’t keep their promises, I wouldn’t order from them again. I’d let the delivery girl know what I felt about her lateness though. Then I looked at her properly and it became difficult to discipline her in the way I planned. All of a sudden I wanted to discipline her in a very different way.

  She looked so innocent. She looked like she’d make the perfect little girl, the right place for her would be over my knee, her legs kicking as I spanked her bare ass. She had big blue eyes that were half hidden behind her fringe of blonde hair, two pigtails making her seem younger than her years. I pegged her at no more than twenty though she could have been a teenager. Her cheeks were flushed red as if she’d run up the stairs instead of taking the lift. Her lips were so plump I almost leaned in and kissed her there and then. They were lips that asked to be kissed, even as she shied away from me, her arms hugging the parcel as if it was her favourite teddy bear.

  She was in a light summer dress, the top of it tight to her chest, drawing my eyes to the swell of her breasts, a hint of nipple visible through the fabric. No bra, the little tease.

  “I’ve a parcel for you,” she said, holding it out in trembling hands. It was amusing, she was so frightened of me. What would she think if I told her I was thinking of spanking her for the hell of it, my cock already half hard at the thought of lifting that dress of hers, yanking down whatever boring little panties she wore, reddening her behind. “I’m sorry it’s a bit late. I had a puncture, you see.”

  “I don’t want excuses,” I snapped. “I’ve had a day of excuses and I’ve had enough of them. You were supposed to be here by six. What the hell are you playing at?”

  I enjoyed seeing her shy away again. Christ, she was so timid, like a little mouse. I bet she’d never been spanked in her life, never been tied down, never had the joy of a cock in her tight little ass. Her cheeks flushed deeper red as I continued to scowl at her, doing my best to hide the hungry smile that tried to cross my lips.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I don’t usually do this, only my housemate’s ill and she asked if I’d deliver this.” Her voice quietened with each word until the sentence was almost a mumble. I needed her gone. If she stayed any longer I was going to pounce on her and that wouldn’t be good for anyone. If she only knew what a perfect sub she’d make, how that timid little voice would be at its best calling me Daddy, begging me to let her come, screaming out my name.

  “I told you I don’t want excuses. Give it here.”

  She held out the parcel in shaking hands and I snatched it from her. “Don’t be late again,” I said. “Or there’ll be trouble.”

  “No, sir,” she said, her knees bending in a half curtsey. She couldn’t have been more naturally submissive if she’d tried. “I am sorry it was late.”

  “Go on then,” I replied, waving her away. “Off you go.”

  She turned and walked over to the lift and I had to hope she didn’t look back. My cock was rock hard, the sight of her ass and those legs too much for me to take. Fuck, I hoped she didn’t come back. Thirty million to find, I wouldn’t find it under her dress. Perfect little girl or not, now was not the time to get distracted, especially as she stepped into the lift just as Archibald stepped out. He passed her with a nod before walking over to me.

  “Is that what you were in such a rush to get home to?” he asked with a knowing grin after the lift door closed on her.

  “She was just delivering something,” I replied before checking myself. Since when did I need to explain myself to him?

  “I bet she was,” he said. “It’s all right, you can admit if you’re in a relationship, I won’t tell anyone.”

  “I am as it happens,” I snapped, wanting that smile wiped off his face. “Now are we going to talk women or money?”

  “What’s the difference?” he replied. “They both lead to ruin. Sorry, accountant humour.”

  “You should know,” I said, leading him into the flat. “How much did you settle for in the end? Half a mil’ was it?”

  “Three quarters but she wanted two. Being an accountant can come in handy sometimes.”

  “An affair with a secretary. It’s such a cliché.”

  “You saw what she looked like. Would you have been able to resist?”

  “No, but I’m not married. What did your wife say about it all?”

  “She’s very loyal,” he said with a shrug. “Now do you want to talk about my little settlement some more or shall we get back to work?”

  “Work,” I said, thinking silently that I never seemed to have time to talk about anything but work. “Specifically, where the fuck has that thirty million gone?”

  He started talking but I was still thinking about her and I wouldn’t stop thinking about her until I had her tied naked to my bed, calling me Daddy. The hunt was on.

  THREE

  EVANGELINE

  Three days later, Clare asked me to deliver another parcel for her. It spoilt what had been a perfect couple of days, knowing I’d have to deal with that ridiculously arrogant man again.

  I’d come home from being berated by him to find Clare asleep on the sofa. I’d fixed my bike that night which meant I got to ride out in the sun for leisurely little trips out of the city into the surrounding countryside the next morning and the day after that too. Each time I set off, I went past the empty shop at the end of the road, the daydream I knew so well washing over me and making me smile.

  One day I’d have enough money to rent out that shop. I never knew where the money would come from, perhaps winning the lottery I didn’t take part in. Charlie Bucket style, I’d maybe find a ticket in the street and realise it was the missing winner and with the big fat cheque, I’d rent out the shop, hell, maybe I’d even buy it. Then I’d gut th
e inside, clean it up and my little bakery would go from dream to reality. It was a nice thought and it always made me happy. It might never happen but there was no harm in dreaming. Maybe Mr Millionaire would feel so guilty for snapping at me that he’d buy it for me. Yeah, and maybe I’d see flying pigs high in the sky above my head.

  The sun had been out every day and I made the most of it, though my pale skin seemed oblivious to my attempts to tan, stubbornly refusing to darken. I hated it at times, feeling it made me look more like a porcelain doll than a person. No matter how long I was out on the bike, I was as pale as ever when I got home, it was infuriating.

  I’d almost managed to forget Dominic Hawke. Almost. I hadn’t forgotten how hot he’d looked, nor the way he looked at me like a wolf looks at a sheep, the way that had made me shrink in front of him. It was like he could see through my dress and it was enough to make me glad to leave him with his parcel, heading back down in the lift, relieved that the experience was over. I left his building fanning my face to cool down, despite the breeze I seemed baking hot all of a sudden.

  He was bad news, that was obvious, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him anyway. The rational part of me knew someone like that would not make a good partner. He would make me one more notch on his bespoke mahogany bedpost before turning me into an anecdote to laugh at with the guys at work. That deep voice of his would tell them all about me, that deep voice that had made me melt, made me call him Sir without thinking. He was bad news, I told myself again and again. You don’t get involved with someone like that.

  Not that it mattered because I knew I’d never see him again. Then on Monday lunchtime, I came home from a morning ride to find Clare nowhere to be seen. There was a parcel on the coffee table, a note taped to the top.

  Had to go into uni. Any chance you could deliver this to your new lover for me? Needs to be there by one. I understand if not. Love you!

  I curled my fingers into fists. That was so passive aggressive of her. Just because I’d done it once, she assumed I’d happily do it again. I could refuse, of course. I could leave it on the table and tell her when she came back that I wasn’t doing her job for her. But then I reread the note, lifting it to look at the address. Dominic Hawke again.