Obeying Daddy

by Kelly Dawson

  The eviction notice, typed out clearly in black and white, on the rental agency’s letterhead, spelled it out for her: she had to move out. The letter wasn’t even personal. Sure, it had her name on it, and the address where she lived, but nothing else to identify it from the standard eviction letter they used. Merely a template, with her personal information added. No apology. No indication of guilt that they were uprooting her life, sending her and her daughter out into the world with no concern for their future. It made her feel like they didn’t even matter.

  Shaking her head, trying to clear the worry that had lingered constantly in the back of her mind since getting the awful news, Jilly picked up the top bundle of stapled papers off the pile on her desk and got to work. It had been nice, being distracted by Matthew for a bit, but now it was time to get back to reality.

  * * *

  Looking at the traffic backed up in front of her, not moving at all, Jilly bashed her palm against the steering wheel in frustration and swore. This was ridiculous. Auckland traffic was an absolute nightmare. After dropping Lily off at school she had exactly thirty-five minutes to get to her desk. Most mornings, it was doable. This morning, likely thanks to an accident somewhere up ahead, it simply wasn’t happening. She’d be lucky to get to her inner city carpark by nine a.m., let alone making the five-minute walk from there to her desk.

  Maybe we should move out of the city. The thought was fleeting; she pushed it aside almost immediately. Moving away wouldn’t work. Their entire lives were here. Her job was here. Lily’s school was here. Her parents were here. They’d have to stay around Auckland, at least for now. She wasn’t brave enough, or crazy enough, to uproot them and start a life anywhere else.

  If it wasn’t for needing to take Lily to school, she’d catch the train. The office was just a stone’s throw from Britomart, the huge downtown station. Taking public transport made sense, especially on mornings like this. One moment’s inattention on the part of a complete stranger led to utter chaos. But right now, Lily was still too young to walk to school alone, despite what her mother thought. You mollycoddle her. Her mother’s accusations rang in her ears. She’s six. She’s not a baby anymore. And maybe her mother was right. Maybe Lily wasn’t a baby. But already, they were separated all day long. From 8.30 in the morning until 5.30 at night. Jilly refused to believe it was wrong to insist on dropping her daughter safely off to school every morning. Especially while she was still so little. She wanted all the time with her daughter that he could get.

  “Finally!” Jilly breathed a sigh of relief as traffic started moving again. She glanced at her watch. It was a light pink plastic digital model that she’d bought on sale at The Warehouse a couple of years ago when money was so tight her budget didn’t stretch to decent watches. Surprisingly, it was still going strong, and while it was still working she was reluctant to spend the money on a nice one. Not when this one told the time perfectly well.

  She crossed her fingers on the steering wheel. If the traffic kept moving like this, she might just make it on time. If she ran from the carpark to the office, anyway.

  The traffic stopped again. Then returned to a crawl, before slowly speeding up.

  “Come on, come on,” she urged under her breath. Surely it was about time something went right? So far, today was one of those days where she really should have stayed in bed. It had been going wrong since she first woke up, starting with the frustrating discovery that she had no coffee, then compounded by Lily refusing to go to school. She’d been firm though; Lily was going. So, despite the tears and protestations that nearly broke her heart, she’d shepherded the little girl off to school, kissing her goodbye at the school gate, just as she did every morning, feeling like the worst mother in the world as she looked at her daughter’s tearstained, pouty face. Why didn’t Lily want to go to school? She’d have to find out.

  It had started to drizzle just as Lily had disappeared out of sight, and she hadn’t brought an umbrella. Nor did she have time to go home and grab one. She’d just have to get wet walking from the carpark to work, she was already late. And being late to Hutchings & Associates was a cardinal sin.

  A few minutes down the road, right over on the left hand shoulder, sitting in a puddle of broken glass, was a very sad-looking hatchback, the back crumpled, the bonnet completely caved in. At least her morning was going better than whoever had been behind the wheel of that poor car.

  Glancing in the rear-view mirror she could see a tow truck slowly wending its way through the thick line of traffic, probably to assist the little car. In the lane beside her, the woman driver held a takeaway coffee cup to her lips, took a sip. Jilly groaned. What she wouldn’t give for a cup of coffee right now!

  She glanced at her watch again, hopefully. Did she have time to pull off and grab a coffee? She knew the answer without even looking at her watch. There definitely wasn’t time to stop for coffee.

  Already, her head was pounding. Lack of sleep compounded with the stress of the morning. She needed caffeine. It would help.

  “Come on!” she yelled at the traffic, frustrated now. This was ridiculous. They were past the scene of the accident, what was the hold-up? She was going to lose her job at this rate.

  The rain was getting heavier as she drove up the ramp to the fourth floor of the parking building where the spot that went with her job was reserved. She could see it pelting down outside, coming in through the open-sided walls between the concrete frame. She’d have to try to remember to put an umbrella into her car. She was going to get soaked.

  She stepped out of the carpark lift directly into a puddle. The entryway sloped down from the street and the water accumulated there, pooling out, spreading across the footpath onto the road where the wheels from the passing cars sprayed it up, saturating her completely. All Jilly could do was sigh in resignation as she looked down at her sopping dress, dripping muddy water into the puddle at her feet, her white blouse clinging to her already.

  Gathering her handbag tighter against her body, she ran, doing her best to dodge the falling raindrops, wobbling precariously in her heels.

  The footpath was slippery, slick with muck from the road and the thousands of shoes that had already tramped this way this morning. Her smooth-soled high heels weren’t designed for running in and as she misjudged the step leading up to the foyer of her building, her feet went out from under her, her foot twisted, and she fell down in a heap on the wet concrete right outside the door.

  “Are you okay, babe?” Vanessa asked.

  Jilly groaned, both in pain and embarrassment. Trust Vanessa to be right there, witness to the whole sorry thing. How could she ever look her friend in the eye again? She didn’t exactly look glamorous with her skirt rucked up around her thighs, drenched right through, scrabbling around on the footpath, trying to find purchase on the slippery, wet ground.

  “Owwwwww.” She hadn’t meant to moan in such an agonised manner but it slipped out and before she knew what was happening, Vanessa was crouching beside her, patting her shoulder, slipping an arm around her back, hauling her to her feet.

  She stood, but even leaning heavily on Vanessa, pain shot up her leg. Tears burned the backs of her eyes. She would not cry. Not here. Not now.

  “God, this morning could not get any shittier,” she whispered.

  “Actually, it’s about to get a whole lot better,” Vanessa told her, a cheerful lilt to her tone. “Matthew is coming!”

  “No. Oh, god, no. Hide me!” Jilly groaned. But it was too late. Lifting her eyes up from the ground just briefly, she saw Matthew running down the stairs from the building. Had he seen the commotion from the office? Surely not—his was over the other side, facing the harbour. Which meant someone had told him. But who? She looked around, but couldn’t see anyone she recognised.

  “What have you done to yourself, Jilly?” he asked in his gentle baritone, standing beside her, taking her weight himself, off Vanessa.

  Her name sounded so good on his lips. It occurred to he
r then that it was the first time he’d actually called her by her first name. Usually it was Miss Watson. She liked Jilly much better.

  “Nothing,” she grunted. “I’m fine.”

  “You are not fine,” he scolded. “You’re wet and you’re hurting. Look at that foot—it’s bruising and swollen already! Here, let me carry you.” She didn’t even have time to protest as he swept her up in his arms, cradling her against his strong body like she was a baby, carrying her as if she weighed nothing.

  Instinctively, she wrapped her arm around his neck, her fingers brushing his thick, too-long hair, which made her lean closer to him, so close she could smell his aftershave. A musky, spicy scent, she liked it. So close she could see the rough stubble on his jaw. Freshly shaven, but there nonetheless. So close her wet body was pressed against his hard chest, dampening his shirt, his tie tickling her arm.

  “Put me down,” she insisted. “I can walk.”

  “You cannot walk, Miss Watson. I will carry you. Just relax.” His voice was soothing, hypnotic, and she tried her best to obey him, but it was difficult, being held by the sexiest man she’d laid eyes on in ages. His smouldering dark eyes were so close. His lashes were long, his nose straight, perfect. She could smell the gel on his hair, smoothing it in place. His hand underneath her knees felt strong, the arm wrapped around her back, supporting her weight, felt hard. Secure.

  He carried her effortlessly into the lift. Vanessa pressed the button for the sixth floor.

  “You can put me down now,” she assured him. “I’m fine, truly.”

  “You barely weigh anything, Miss Watson. Just keep still, or I will be forced to discipline you.”

  “What?” Jilly lurched herself around, struggling in his arms, trying to move herself far enough away from his chest so she could see his face. Was he actually serious? Or perhaps she had misheard? “What did you just say?”

  “Keep still,” he rumbled, his voice deep, filled with laughter, his tone clearly teasing.

  The ride up in the lift, which usually only took seconds, seemed to take forever. All her senses were alert, sparking with tension. Matthew’s words, I will be forced to discipline you, running around and around in her head. The laughter in his tone afterwards had been clear. Was he just flirting with her, or had it been something more? Did she want it to be anything more?

  Eventually, the lift doors opened and Matthew carried her out, into the office, setting her gently down into her swivel chair at her desk. Crouching down, he carefully removed her shoe, held her wet foot in his hands, letting her heel rest lightly on his pants.

  “I’m getting you all wet and dirty!” she protested, but he ignored her, and carried on with his ministrations, rotating her foot gently in his huge hand, rubbing his fingers softly around the swollen joint.

  “Ice, I need ice. You—Vanessa. Is that your name? Get me some ice, please,” he barked. From behind him, Vanessa saluted and grinned at her, sending her a silent message: he likes you.

  Jilly wondered why he’d added on the word please. It was clear he was giving an order, and it was even clearer that he expected to be obeyed immediately. The please was a courtesy, nothing more. He wasn’t asking a question.

  Was Vanessa right? Did he like her?

  She winced as pain shot through her foot, up her leg. Matthew’s strong fingers massaged softly, the pads of his fingers pressing against her tender flesh.

  “I’m okay, honestly. I’m fine.” Jilly tried to push him away, but he wasn’t having it.

  “We’ve been over this, Miss Watson,” he growled, his voice stern, gruff. “You are not fine. Unless you wish to find out what happens to naughty girls, I suggest you behave and let me look after you.”

  Her breath caught in her throat, her heart skipped a beat. There it was again, that loosely veiled possessive threat, wrapped up in a caring, flirtatious way. What exactly was it he had in mind? She wished he would use her name again. She loved the way it sounded on his lips, the way his deep voice rumbled when he spoke it.

  Vanessa returned with an ice pack wrapped in a towel and handed it to him. Still crouched down, he held it to her swollen foot, supporting her lower leg with his other hand. He was so gentle, so caring. She shouldn’t be enjoying his attentions. Sparks shouldn’t be shooting up her leg from his touch.

  She shivered.

  “You’re cold.” It was a statement, not a question, his voice laced with concern. He got to his feet. “Hold this and don’t move. There’s a jacket in my office, I’ll get it for you.”

  Leaning down to hold the ice pack in place with one hand just as he’d asked, she watched the way his body moved as he walked down the hallway, his damp pants clinging so sexily to his hips. His shirt was wet across his shoulders and upper back, the saturated fabric almost transparent, doing nothing to hide his muscles.

  Vanessa touched her shoulder. “You okay? I better get to work; Janice is giving me the evil eye. But you call out if you want anything, yeah?”

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  Vanessa winked. “I bet you are, with Mr. Sexpot himself tending to you!” Laughter bubbled up in her throat. “Just kidding. Your ankle looks sore. Let him look after you. Enjoy it!”

  Jilly just smiled. There wasn’t much else she could do, really. Not with everyone in the office looking at her. She’d been impossible to miss, arriving as she had in Matthew’s arms. She must have looked quite the spectacle.

  It didn’t take him long to return. Standing behind her, he draped his jacket around her shoulders, wrapping it around to her front, tucking it down the sides of the chair. Crouching down again, he repositioned the ice pack on her foot, propping it up so it covered both her rapidly swelling ankle and the top of her discoloured foot.

  “You have wheels on your chair, Miss Watson. I expect you to use them. If I catch you out of that chair there will be consequences. You need to rest that foot. Stay off it. Do you hear me?” He reached down to grip her chin, tilted her face up to meet his stern gaze. Passion blazed in his eyes.

  There will be consequences echoed in her head. I will be forced to discipline you. Unless you want to find out what happens to naughty girls... Was it bad that she was starting to want to find out just what it was that he was alluding to?

  She swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good girl.” He stood up, releasing her chin, his simple words sending a thrill of happiness through her. Why did he affect her so much? Why was her skin still tingling where he’d touched it? Why did she want him to touch her again? Why was he making her forget that she’d sworn off men forever?

  * * *

  Secure in the privacy of his office, Matthew couldn’t get Jilly out of his mind. The way she’d felt in his arms. The cute way she’d blushed when she’d insisted she was fine. The dainty way she’d gasped in pain when his touch hadn’t quite been gentle enough. Her adorable reaction when he’d playfully threatened her with punishment. Had she thought he was serious? Was he serious? Perhaps he was. The thought of spanking that cute ass was certainly appealing. If there was one thing Jilly Watson needed, it was discipline. Lately, she seemed distracted, like she was off in another world, thinking about something else. Something big. Something important. What was going on?

  He noticed that she looked tired and yawned a lot, especially when she thought nobody was watching. She didn’t seem to leave her desk much, either, unless it was to replenish her coffee cup, or the bottle of energy drink she’d started consuming way too much of. He didn’t know for sure, but he didn’t think she ate during her lunchbreak. Maybe he should take her out again. Better yet, maybe he should take her out every day. It would be good for them both; he could do with the break, too. And at least then he’d know she was eating.

  He broached the subject with her just after morning tea. He was pleased to see she was making use of her wheels, sliding her chair around the office to get to where she needed to go rather than walking, although the ice pack had disappeared, he noted with disapproval.
r />   “Come for lunch with me,” he told her. “My shout. What would you like?”

  He frowned when she shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I’m not eating at the moment.”

  “And why ever not?” he asked, his tone gruff, scolding. He lightened it, reached out to touch her shoulder. He was coming across as far too grumpy. He was going to scare her off at this rate. “You need to eat. It’s not healthy to miss meals. I don’t want to see you wasting away, Miss Watson.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Do we need to talk about punishments again?”

  “I don’t believe you have any authority to punish me, Mr Stevenson. You’re not my boss.”

  Smooth. Very smooth. She met his expression, raised eyebrow to raised eyebrow. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, the corners of her mouth curled up ever so slightly in the tiniest hint of a smile. “Would you like to find out just how far my authority extends, Miss Watson? Or would you like to come to lunch?”

  Defiantly, she met his gaze. Absently, her finger snagged a lock of hair that had fallen forward over her shoulder, and she twisted her wrist, wrapping the tendril around her finger in a flirty, erotic manner. Was she teasing him?

  “That depends, Mr. Stevenson. What are you going to feed me?” Her eyebrow raised the tiniest bit more, challenging him.

  “Whatever your heart desires, Miss Watson. You can find just about everything along the waterfront. Take your pick.”

  “Okay.” She winked, twirling her hair around her finger even more, meeting his gaze boldly, but innocently. “I’ll let you know.”

  Chapter Five

  Matthew took Jilly out for lunch to a different place each day. And every day, even though it was obvious she was trying so hard to be happy and smile, he could see the worry getting deeper on her face. Something was going on, but what was it? Was it something he could help with?

  He didn’t want to push her for information. It wasn’t his business, and he didn’t want to pry. Besides, he was busy enough with preparing for trial—it was due to start next week, and already, he was feeling the pressure.