by Jane Henry
The warm rush of tightness comes once more, like the night before and I grab the headboard, exhaling with a rush. He knows I’m close and showing no mercy he raises his hips hard, then lowers them fast, pounding in and out of me while I buck against him.
“Fuck me, daddy, I’m going to come!”
“Come, babygirl. Come for your daddy.”
His words are my undoing. I let out an animal-like cry, riding out the wave of pleasure, my entire body racked with shudders.
Afterward, I lay next to him, he on his back, me curled into his side. His fingertips stroke the back of my arm. I trace lazy circles on his chest with my fingers. He lets out a contented sigh.
I could do this all day.
With this little magic trick in their back pocket, how do people ever get anything done?
I raise my mouth to kiss him again. I’m stopped by the sound of a hard thump coming from the kitchen. “Oh, shit! Mom!” The one thing I’ve come to help with and here I’m lying around. I fly from the bed, tossing on a robe from my suitcase.
“Do you need help?” Gabriel gets up to assist.
“No. I’ve got this. You can take a shower if you want. There should be towels in the bathroom.”
I rush through the house to find my mother in the kitchen, baking muffins. There’s a tin of flour spilled out on the floor. She looks up at me, as if she’s got no idea how this happened. “It just slipped from my hands.”
“It’s alright, Mom. Let me help you.” I help her to sit down at the table. Make her a cup of tea. Pop her muffins into the oven. Despite dropping the canister, they look and smell just like her batter always does, giving me a bit of hope she’s going to be alright.
I grab a broom, sweeping up the flour and toss it into the trash. I make a cup of tea and sit beside her. I’m surprised when she asks about Gabriel, after confusing him with dad last night, though the two don’t bear the slightest resemblance.
We have a pleasant chat. I find myself telling her all about him. And in the process, I realize how much he means to me already.
Soon, the smell of homemade muffins fills the kitchen. Making things feel almost normal.
The phone rings. I answer it; my mother is one of the last few people to have a landline in their home. “Hello?”
“Hello. I’m calling for Barb Montague.”
“This is her daughter speaking. May I help you?”
“Yes. That would be wonderful. My name is Sherry, calling from the Shop From Home Network. We just need to know where she wants the jacuzzi delivered. Apparently when she placed her order over the phone a few weeks ago, she gave us the credit card number and billing address, but it looks like she forgot to confirm where she was having it shipped.”
A hot tub? My mom? Growing up, my mother saved the empty sour cream containers to use for Tupperware. Frugal is her middle name. “Jacuzzi… I’m afraid there’s been a mistake.”
My mom looks up with a smile. “Who is it, dear?”
I cover the mouthpiece with my hand and smile back. “It’s for me, Mom. Enjoy your tea.”
The oven beeps and I hold the phone between my shoulder and the side of my face, stretching the cord across the room to rescue the muffins. “I think we are going to need to cancel that order.” I grab a potholder, open the oven door and slide the tin over the rack. They’re perfect. I put them on the stovetop to cool.
Shelly gives a little hmm noise. “So, um. On an order that big, I’m afraid we don’t do cancelations.”
My hand goes to my hip. “What do you mean? The thing is not here, so obviously it can be canceled.”
“It’s already been paid for. The hot tub just arrived at the warehouse. Like I said, we had the billing address. Just need to know where to deliver it to.”
“I assure you my mother has no use for a jacuzzi.” How much does a hot tub cost? Six grand? There’s no way she can afford it on her limited budget. “Can you refund it?”
“Ma’am, I’m afraid not.”
“Can you hold on just a sec?”
“Sure. No problem.”
My mom keeps all her mail in a basket beneath the phone. She always has. I flip through the papers, coupon after coupon, grocery flyer, register to vote reminder. There it is—her credit card bill. It’s the statement for last month.
My eyes fly over the pages, down the list of purchases. Shop From Home Network must be listed over twenty times, for amounts ranging anywhere from fifteen to five hundred dollars. I flip the page, scanning even more charges.
There, on the bottom of the second page, the very last item. Five thousand, nine hundred and ninety-five dollars. Making the grand total of my mother’s previous month’s expenses over twenty thousand dollars.
My stomach sinks.
Shelly gives a cough. “Ma’am. Ma’am. Are you there?”
“I’ve got to go. I promise, I’ll call you later to sort this out.” I hang up and look over at my mother. She’s smiling to herself, drinking her tea, happily reading. She’s a few pages into Mafia Mania. She looks so sweet, so innocent, my heart tears in two.
There’s no way I can leave here without her.
My mother needs full-time care. Lexi needs to be free to build her life with Tom. Me—well, I’m single. This needs to fall on my shoulders.
Gabriel comes into the kitchen, his face freshly shaved, his hair still damp. “It smells good in here. You've been baking, Mrs. Montague?”
She looks up from her book. “Gabriel? Wait, you’re not Gabriel. But you sure look familiar. I thought I knew you from somewhere. You’re Armand Olivier, aren’t you? The man from this story. What you did to poor Penny, young man, well, that was just uncalled for.” She gives a cluck of her tongue, shaking her head.
I want to laugh. But the reality behind the reason for the funny things she’s saying is so fucking sad. It makes my chest ache.
Gabriel looks at me. And, I do the only thing I feel strong enough to do at this moment.
I collapse into his arms.
Chapter Eleven
Gabriel
“Baby. What is it?” I want to fix this for her, whatever it is that’s got my strong, capable woman looking like she’s ready to cry.
She holds up a paper and waves it at me. Takes me a minute to see what it is. Looks like a credit card statement with a stack of recent charges. I hold her against me while I look it over, and soon realize the problem.
I speak to her in a low voice so her mom doesn’t hear me. “Your mom’s?”
She nods mutely.
I want to take care of her. I want to ensure that her every need is met, and honest to God, I can see why this is a concerning amount, but to me it’s a fucking rounding error.
“Alright, babe, let’s talk with your sister and sort this out, okay?”
She looks up at me with wide eyes and shakes her head. “No,” she whispers. “Lexi’s getting married, Gabriel. I don’t want to upset things for her. I can’t…” she looks around her and whispers. “I don’t want to burden her with this.”
I hear her, but I know what needs to happen, and I’m not backing down, and I’ll make sure this isn’t a burden.
“And that’s admirable of you, but if the two of you are in charge of making sure this doesn’t happen again, we need to bring her in.” I fold the paper and put it in my pocket, then release Miranda and walk over to her mom. “Call Lexi. Tell her to come over so we can take care of this.” I hate to rush, but we’ve got to get back to Vegas. “Can you trust me, Miranda?”
She worries her lip, but nods, and a few minutes later I hear her in the other room calling her sister.
I turn to her mom. “Good book, Mrs. Montague?”
She clucks her tongue and wiggles her eyebrows at me.
“You, sir, are a rogue.” She points to the book, and I realize she really does think I’m the guy in the novel. I can’t help but snort at that.
“I’ll redeem myself in the end,” I quip, hoping that I have the vaguest idea of ho
w romance novels sort themselves out. I hope.
I make a few calls. Pull a few strings. When I hear Lexi arrive, I meet the girls in the living room and get right down to business.
“Miranda, I have to get back home by one, so we’ll have to leave soon. But before we do, I want to ensure your mom’s taken care of.”
Lexi looks at me apprehensively, but I go on.
I pull the paper out of my pocket and hand it to Lexi. “You familiar with any of this?”
She looks it over, her eyes wide with concern, then covers her mouth when she gets to the bottom of the page.
“A jacuzzi? Oh my God.”
“Looks like your mom’s gone on a shopping spree. The first thing we have to do is take your mom’s credit cards so she doesn’t get herself in more trouble. Can you handle that, Lexi?”
“Yes, absolutely, but Gabriel, we can’t—”
I cut her off. This needs to be handled. Now. “I’ve got a long term care facility booked and ready to go for your mother. It’s ten minutes from here and only a block from Lexi’s apartment.” Please don’t ask me how I already had her address. “It’s a wonderful place. Five star reviews and excellent care. Lexi can still visit every day, but she can rest easy knowing your mom is safe.”
Relief washes over Lexi’s face but it’s quickly replaced by concern. “That sounds wonderful, but... expensive. I’m not sure we can afford—”
I shake my head and cut her off again. “I’ll take care of these charges and make sure they’re paid off, and I’ve already paid the facility for the first three months. I just want to ensure she’s safe and cared for before we leave. I’m sorry we can’t stay any longer this trip, but hopefully this gives you some support.”
“Gabriel, that’s generous. But to pay you back...” Miranda’s eyes are pleading, her face pained. She’s hating that she’ll feel like she owes me.
I smile at her. “Don’t worry. We’ll work out a business arrangement. Right, honey?”
She blinks once, then twice, then a little flush comes to her cheeks. “Yes, of course.”
Lexi cackles. Goddammit, she must know what Miranda’s business entails. I give her a pointed look, and she partly sobers, covering her mouth to stifle her giggles.
“Is she modeling for your studio, Mr. Lord? Hmm?”
This one’s a hot ticket, but I like her.
“Something like that.”
I glance at my watch. We need to move. “There are a few more things we’ll need to discuss, but Miranda and I will talk about that on the way home. Is there anything else we need to know?”
“Yes,” Miranda says. “That hot tub is on its way here and there’s no place to put it!”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“I have the phone number,” Miranda says, pulling out her mom’s phone. “They said they were delivering it.”
I call Shane. “Hello?”
“Shane, I need you to make a phone call and cancel this order. Have it delivered somewhere else. If they won’t cancel it, donate it somewhere.”
I give him the details. “On it, boss.”
Lexi’s eyes grow wary. “You know what they say about things that appear too good to be true, Mr. Lord…”
“Like I said, Lexi. This is no charity donation. Miranda and I will work things out.” I turn to Miranda. “Sorry, babe, but we’ve got to go.”
She gets to her feet but doesn’t go to the room to pack her bags like I thought she would. She runs to me, squeezes me around the chest, then runs to the guest room. Lexi, however, is still eying me warily. She gets to her feet and walks over to me, her eyes narrowed.
“First of all, Gabriel, I want to thank you. I do want it clear that I appreciate your generosity.” I nod.
“But second of all, I want you to know something.”
“Yes?”
She points behind her and hisses in a low voice. “She’s everything to me. The kindest woman you’ll ever meet. She’s got a heart of gold, and so help me God, if you hurt her, I will not take it lightly. You’ve swooped into her life with your perfect everything, and I want that so badly for her I could cry. But if there’s anything you’re hiding and you hurt my sister—”
“Whoa, Lexi,” I say, holding my hands up. “I’ve got no intention of doing anything of the sort.”
She narrows her eyes. “I hope that’s true.”
Miranda comes out a moment later with her bags, and I reach for them. She looks from me to Lexi curiously, but I move past her into the kitchen. “Let’s say goodbye to your mom.”
Two hours later we’re preparing to land back in Vegas. We’ve talked about everything, and Miranda eagerly agreed to another week as my escort to pay her mother’s bills. It’s unnecessary for me—I’d pay the bills off without a second thought—but I know she needs to feel that she’s earned the money.
I handle business on the flight home and she handles hers. I cast surreptitious glances at her on the way. She makes phone calls, sends emails, handles negotiations, checks on clients and contracts. She checks in with her assistant and finally hangs up the phone and smiles at me as we’re about to land.
“What? Are you disappointed this flight didn’t go over the way the last one did?” She flashes me a fetching wink.
I grin at her. “Not at all. But I’ll have you know last night was only a taste of what I have in store for you, babygirl.” Damn. It feels good to call her that.
She cocks her head to the side. “Why are you looking at me like that, then?”
“You wear the boss babe cape well.”
“Do I?”
“It’s gorgeous. I can’t even tell you how sexy it is to see a woman like you, all kick-ass-take-no-prisoners to everyone else… but submissive to me.”
She smiles. “I like that.”
We exit the jet and go straight to the car that’s waiting for us.
“I could get used to something like this,” she says. “Seriously.”
“Something like what?”
“Flying places,” she says, waving her hand to the jet. “Rides, like this. Being able to go where I want when I wanted.” She sighs. “Travel.”
“You haven’t really traveled?”
“Not much, and then it was only for work and college.”
I nod, my mind swirling with ideas.
She smiles. “Now, daddy, I know that look,” she says with a coy smile. “You’re planning on something ridiculously extravagant, aren’t you?”
“You’re catching on.”
She laughs her pretty laugh, and sinks into the seat.
It makes me hopeful, and I can’t deny the fact that I want to give this to her… all of it. I’m afraid I’ve already come on too strong, and soon—if not already—her concerns will start plaguing her.
“It’s alright, babe,” I say, trying to mitigate my need to give her everything she wants, to spoil her rotten, and secure her place by my side. “We both have work to do, we both have responsibilities. I won’t be whisking you away for coffee in Paris this afternoon or anything.”
She smiles. “As lovely as that sounds, sir.”
My phone rings. Shane. I answer it. “Hello?”
“Hey, man. Don’t forget you’ve got that big to-do tonight in the ballroom. I rescheduled your shoot, there’s no way you’ll make that. But the reception tonight we can’t miss.”
I stifle an inward groan. “Which one?”
He curses under his breath. “Which one? Seriously? You forgot that tonight’s the reception for your kick-off tour? Tonight at eight?”
Oh, God. The latest line of denim out of Europe, Trey Bien. That one. We booked the largest ballroom at Vegas, Baby for that. We’ve got people flying in from Paris, Rome, Nice, and Madrid. My agent arranged the details, but I know I’m supposed to be on. It will be hours and hours of posing for ‘candid’ photos and wining and dining. I look over to Miranda. How will she handle this?
“Okay. What time do I show up?”
“You
r team will meet you in your suite at five to get you ready.”
Great.
I hang up the phone. She’s taking a call of her own. “Yes, of course,” she says. “Thank you for arranging that. Now, be sure that the contract details are in my inbox by nine a.m. tomorrow, please. I want to be sure we’ve got every detail covered.”
Is she talking about us? Or someone else? I wait until she hangs up the phone.
“What was that about?”
“One of our clients is taking one of our escorts on a cruise, and we want to be sure all our details are in order,” she says, her head tipped to the side curiously. “Why?” Then she nods. “Ahh. Did you think that was about us?”
I nod. “I did.”
She sits up and places her hand on my knee. “It wasn’t. That conversation will be private, and I won’t involve my assistant.”
“Good, then,” I say, taking out my phone. “I want to go over every detail of this, right now, before we head into that hotel.”
I draw up quick terms and show them to her. Her eyes widen at the payout. I’d pay more, but I don’t want Miranda for a night. I don’t want her for ten.
I want her forever.
But I know a proposal this soon after we “met” isn’t going to go over so well. So I play the game. I get the details sorted. I do what’s expected under these circumstances, because I need to play along until I somehow—some way—convince her to love me.
“That’s… that’s very generous, sir,” she whispers.
I massage the back of her neck. “Daddy,” I amend.
She flushes. “Daddy.”
“So you agree?”
“I do. I’d…” Something in her eyes tells me she’s having an internal battle—against what, I’m unsure, but when she finally finishes her thought, I know I’ve won, at least for now. “I’d agree to longer, if you’d have me.”
A zing pulses through my chest. I’m guessing “forever” would be pushing it.
“Good. Excellent. We do this for now. Two weeks. And then afterward, we’ll rearrange the terms of the contract if necessary.”
She hesitates for only a moment before she finally nods. She almost looks as if she’s the one who wants to ask for more time.