Beauty's Daddy (Billionaire Daddies #1)

by Jane Henry

  “Yes, good enough. I’ll join you after I eat lunch. Thank you.” Alvin knew I preferred to eat alone most days, and didn’t question this.

  When I arrived in the dining room, she sat obediently at the table, picking at a plateful of salad greens. She turned to face me, her eyes wide. “Oh. Hello,” she said quietly, the faint pink tinge on her cheeks the only indication that she remembered every detail of what’d happened. She swallowed. “I didn’t expect you here, Mister Gryffin.” I noted a book with a bookmark sticking out of it sat at the table in front of her, but I couldn’t read the title from where I sat.

  I shrugged, choosing a chair near her rather than one at the other end of the table. “I wasn’t planning on being here for lunch, but my meeting was postponed. I did, however, expect to see you here,” I added, allowing my voice to take on an edge of authority. I wanted to see her react.

  When her eyes met mine, they were compliant. Softer. “You told me to come to lunch,” she said. “So I did.” She did not look away, which pleased me. Though she would learn to obey me, and I wanted to test her mettle, I would not steal her fire.

  “You don’t eat enough,” I chided, filling my plate with a large portion of grilled chicken salad, homemade croissants, and mixed greens. “For crying out loud, all you have on your plate is spinach.”

  “Arugula,” she corrected, clearing her throat.

  “Whatever the fuck you call the greens, they’re not substantial enough. You need more than that.”

  She flushed a bit, but her nostrils flared. “And what’s it to you?” she sassed. “I am not going to eat more than that for lunch, thank you.”

  My own anger rose, as I leaned in closer to her. “Oh, no?” I said in a mere whisper. “Did you learn nothing over my knee earlier?”

  Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned. “Please don’t remind me. It was mortifying enough without having to recapture every vivid detail.”

  I clenched the napkin in my lap with my fists, balling it up. “Oh I’m happy to recapture every vivid detail. You will do what I say and learn your place before your time here is through. Now are we going to argue about this?”

  She frowned, her brows drawing together adorably. I wanted to kiss her and spank her ass all over again. “Arguing about what?”

  I exhaled. “I want you to eat more than a handful of arugula or whatever greens you have on your plate. Now I’m not asking you, Annabelle, I’m telling you…and if you don’t obey me, I will spank you again, but this time I will not let you climax over my knee. Got it?”

  Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped open. “Did you just say that out loud?” she whispered.

  “I did,” I said, flicking my napkin out and smoothing it over my lap. I met her gaze and lowered my voice. “Now allow me to clarify. I asked you to do what you were told. I expect you to take care of yourself. On my watch, I will not allow you to starve yourself. Now eat.”

  She pursed her lips and glared at me, but after a moment, she looked at the table and her lower lip came out. “I don’t like eating in front of men,” she finally said.

  My anger dissolved, and I took her hand in mine. It was small and warm, her nails painted in a pale lavender, little ovals that grazed the surface of my palm. “What do you mean, you don’t like to eat in front of men? Do you eat in front of women?”

  Her eyes danced at that, and though she kept her left hand in mine, her right hand came to her mouth to stifle a giggle before she spoke. “Well, of course,” she said. “A girl has to keep herself alive, you know!” She dissolved into laughter then, and I watched her in consternation. The girl baffled me, one minute compliant, the next full of fire.

  “Annabelle,” I warned, which sobered her. She stopped laughing and nodded her head. Good. Maybe the strapping I’d given her made an impact after all. “Tell me why you don’t like eating in front of men.” I released her hand and grabbed a croissant, tore it open with my hands, then smeared butter on it. I took a hearty bite. She watched me before she responded.

  “I had two boyfriends in high school.” She faltered, her eyes looking away for a minute before looking back at me.

  “I see,” I said, popping the other half of the croissant in my mouth and chewing it. She licked her lips and swallowed. “Go on.”

  She shrugged. “Well, both of them told me I was fat, and at different times made fun of me when I ate in front of them. They said their other girlfriends weren’t as chubby as I was. So…after that, I got too embarrassed to eat in front of guys. I always convince myself that whoever it is watching me will think I’m a pig because I eat carbohydrates or fat or whatever. You know?”

  “No, I don’t know. Those boys were stupid idiots. I love your curves.” I wanted to throttle those boys with my own bare hands.

  I exhaled, picked up another croissant, tore it open with my hands and smeared butter on one half. I handed it to her. She shook her head and looked away. Damn it, the girl was going to eat if she knew what was good for her.

  “Annabelle,” I warned, getting her attention. “You look at me now.”

  Her cheeks flushed and she obeyed, her eyes meeting mine. “Take this roll and eat it.”

  She clamped her lips tight and shook her head. I raised my eyes heavenward and shook my head. Clearly, she had not learned her lesson. I looked back at her. Keeping her gaze on mine, I pushed far away from the table so that there was a good space between my chair and the table. “You either eat,” I offered, holding the croissant in my hand. “Or, get in trouble.” She looked at my lap and shifted on her seat. Then her gaze traveled up to the croissant and she swallowed hard. She grabbed it out of my hand and took a large bite, then another, not watching me, but eating the croissant nonetheless.

  “Oh, this is delicious,” she murmured. I snorted.

  “My staff is well trained,” I said. “Our bakers came from France, and were eager to come to America and sell their wares. So they do supply baked goods to several local restaurants.”

  She nodded eagerly, taking another bite. Her stomach growled. I frowned at her, reached for the large bowl of chicken salad, and spooned a good dollop on her plate. “Do you like chicken salad?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Then eat that with your spinach.”

  “Arugula,” she said around a mouthful of crumbs, but she was grinning.

  “Whatever,” I muttered. “Behave yourself, young lady.”

  I rose a brow to her, and she quieted. She was learning. But she shifted on her seat again, and smoothed her napkin over her lap. Clearly, she was doing more than learning, as this morning’s session had shown me. Girls who were appalled at high-handed ways didn’t get off over a guy’s knee, unless a part of her craved the attention. She was attracted to the way I was with her, whether she wanted to admit it or not. “Under my watch, I’ll be sure you’re taken care of, Annabelle,” I said. “You’ll eat regularly, and I’ll be sure you get enough rest as well.” I paused. “I think you’re overdue for someone to take care of you, aren’t you?”

  She scooped some of the chicken salad on her greens, and took a tentative bite, eying me as she did so. For crying out loud, women were crazy. I didn’t care if she liked eating in front of me or not. She would, or I’d make her regret it. I picked up a knife and sliced the croissant open before I filled it with chicken salad. I placed some of the greens on top, leaned over my plate and took a big bite, chewing well before I glanced over at her. She’d frozen with her fork halfway to her mouth, eyes wide as saucers.

  I swallowed and shrugged. “What?”

  “Dear God, that was the biggest bite of a sandwich I’ve ever seen in my life,” she said, and she blinked again.

  I chuckled. “Are you trying to give me a complex now? Next thing you know, I’ll be too embarrassed to eat in front of girls.”

  She laughed out loud, her fork dropping to her plate. Her laugh was light and musical, her pretty eyes dancing in merriment. “Are you mocking me?” she asked.

  I
shrugged, and I couldn’t help it, a small smile played at my lips. ‘No,” I said. “I’m not. Now eat.”

  We ate in silence for a while, and I intentionally kept my eyes to my own plate. I was, however, aware that she did what I told her to.

  “After lunch, I’ll go to my meeting. You’re free to roam the grounds.” I paused. “Well, you’re free to roam the places I’ve told you you’re welcome to go. Tonight, we have dinner prepared and will discuss the meeting with the media tomorrow. Sound good?”

  She shrugged a shoulder. “I suppose,” she said. Good enough.

  I took another croissant and sliced it open, filling it again.

  “Oh my God, you’re eating another one?” she asked.

  “Seriously, Annabelle, are you going to question everything I do? I am six feet five inches tall and weigh probably a hundred and fifty pounds more than you do. I need to eat. And so do you, diet be damned.”

  She took another bite. “Well, that is good,” she said. “But I’m not six feet five inches and I’m not telling you my weight if you spank me all day long.”

  I laughed out loud. “Up for the challenge,” I said, then I pretended to mull it over.

  “So what are you reading?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.

  She shrugged. “Shakespeare.”

  “Oh?” I asked. “Which play?”

  She flushed a bit. “Um, not the plays,” she said. “These are his sonnets.” Ahh…telling. I smeared butter on a third croissant and rang the bell that sat at the center of the table.

  Rafael came then, and nodded. “Sir?”

  “Some dessert, please,” I said. “Do you have anything prepared?”

  “Certainly,” he answered, leaving to fetch dessert.

  “So read me a sonnet,” I ordered Annabelle, plunking the remains of the croissant in my mouth.

  She opened to a page. “When most I wink then do mine eyes best see, For all the day they view things unrespected...”

  I finished. “But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee, And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed.”

  “You know Shakespeare?” she asked.

  “Not personally,” I deadpanned. “I’m not that old.”

  She giggled again, hiding her face in a glass of water.

  “Oh, right,” she said. “I forgot. How old were you again?”

  Her eyes twinkled at me, but I knew she was probing information.

  “I’m thirty-two years old.” I frowned. “Too old for you, really.”

  “Oh?” she asked, eyes wide. “I wasn’t asking for me. I was merely curious. And for the sake of conversation, what would constitute ‘too old’ anyway?”

  I sobered then. “Too old is when the young woman has more vitality than the man she seeks,” I said. “Her smile and charm light up the room, and the ancient man she’s with dims her brightness.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Well then you certainly are not too old for me. So it seems you speak only in theory?”

  I would not answer her but frowned. “Finish your lunch, Annabelle.”

  Without another word, casting her eyes on her plate, she obeyed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Annabelle

  The man was an enigma to me, that much was clear. The self-loathing in his eyes fairly tore my heart in two. Why did he hate himself so? He was a handsome, well-to-do, educated man who liked control and power. He had a past that haunted him, but I did not believe what people said about him. His fiercely protective nature did not push me away, but drew me to him.

  I finished my lunch in silence, and quite enjoyed it. What I’d told him was the truth. I was embarrassed to eat in front of men. It was so awkward. But it was more awkward finding myself face down over his lap, so I decided I wouldn’t fight him on this one.

  As I made my way to my room, I relived the memory of what had happened that afternoon, my hand going to my ass that still burned from the licks of his belt.

  The mere memory made my pulse race, my panties dampen, and my breath became labored.

  Why did being dominated make me so aroused?

  As a virgin, I’d never had a lover. Sure, I’d been kissed and felt up, but I’d never been touched by a man. And there was something about Sawyer Gryffin that laid me bare, that tore my pretenses and fears asunder, leaving nothing but my own desires in its wake. He made my heart twist in my throat. He’d made me climax. He made me so very angry. I wanted to punch him, hurt him, kiss him, and fuck him.

  God.

  I wanted to fuck him.

  If I’d been wearing pearls, I’d have clutched them.

  Opening the door to my room, I saw my phone on the bedside table, and beside it, another one with a note.

  “Your phone is shit. I replaced it, and the tech guy transferred all your information. But don’t worry, I didn’t snoop around. You do have a password on the new one, though. You’ll have to figure that one out yourself.”

  What? The arrogant, controlling jerk!

  I picked up the phone, lifted it, and reared back to hurl it across the room, then halted.

  I could see it now.

  He’d come sauntering in the room. “Where’s the phone I bought you?”

  “Oh, I shattered it into a million pieces.”

  If anything would earn me a punishment...

  But the truth was, my phone was a piece of shit. It was the freebie I’d gotten when I signed up with the service plan I used, and I hadn’t replaced it in years. I picked up the new one and glanced it over. The screen was larger, gleaming new, in a soft pink protective case edged in black. It looked somehow feminine and badass all at once. I wanted to see what this souped-up little number could do. I swiped at the screen, and a keyboard popped up.

  Shit.

  “You’ll have to figure that out for yourself.”

  Of all the nervy things to do to a girl —

  I paused, sighed, and decided to attempt the password, hoping he hadn’t set it up to wipe it out or something with too many password entries.

  First, I typed my name. A-N-N-A-B-E-L-L-E.

  Nothing. Still locked.

  Frustrated, I typed in let me in.

  Still, nothing. I tried Gryffin, and Whitby, but nothing worked.

  As I mulled it over, trying to think of ways I could get revenge that wouldn’t get me in trouble, it dawned on me. I narrowed my eyes, picked up my phone and slowly typed in the letters D-A-D-D-Y.

  The screen sprang to life.

  Son of a bitch.

  I did not dwell long on this, however, because the next thing I knew I was glancing through my screen, swiping away, opening the apps he’d downloaded, checking through to make sure all my favorite contacts where there. Yes, perfect.

  I laid down on the bed, dialed Melody, and waited for her to answer. She took her sweet time about it and finally answered around the tenth ring.

  “Hey Melody,” I said. “Just checking in.”

  “Annabelle!” she replied. “Oh thank God. I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”

  Fear swept over me and the skin on my arms prickled with goose pimples. “Is everything okay?” I asked her in the bravest voice I could muster. I prepared myself for the worst. Mom had hurt herself. Melody had lost her job. Something awful had happened.

  “Well, everything’s okay for the moment,” she said. “But Gavin came by, and things got really ugly.”

  I groaned. “Oh, no. What happened?”

  “Well, Mom decided she was going to tell everyone that you were taken by the beast of the man up on a hill, and that you weren’t there of your own accord.”

  “Oh, God,” I muttered. I’d seen what Gavin could do. He could twist information and facts like no one’s business, making the most innocent appear vindictive or malicious. It was his specialty.

  “What did she tell him?” I asked. “Tell me everything, Melody.”

  “He came here looking for you, and Mom said you’d been taken by the beast.”

 
“He did not take me!” I protested, but Melody was bent on making sure I got the right information.

  “And then she said that you were being held against your will and threatened with bodily harm.”

  Oh my God!

  “Melody, that isn’t true,” I said. Oh, for crying out loud.

  “You know Mom, Annabelle,” she said. “You know her. You know that she only gets one or two facts straight and then misrepresents the information that she knows.” She paused. “But what exactly is he doing?” she asked.

  Just like that, the memory of being stripped and spanked over his knee before he made me climax flashed through my mind. I swallowed hard.

  “He’s got me in this beautiful room,” I told her. “He bought me a new cell phone which I’m using now to talk to you. You called me earlier and my shit phone didn’t even pick the call up. This one is amazing. He feeds me well, and gives me free rein over his home here. The gardens are beautiful, and there are books and things.”

  “Oooh,” she said. “That doesn’t sound unpleasant at all!”

  I smiled. “It’s quite nice in some ways,” I said. “I will tell you, he is quite bossy though.”

  She snorted. “Of course he is. He’s Sawyer Gryffin. What else would you expect?”

  I thought of staring at the floorboards of his office as I laid belly down over his lap for a spanking.

  I sure as hell hadn’t expected this.

  “Listen, Melody, don’t tell the reporters anything. I’ll reach out to Gavin myself and tell him to stop. I’m not being held against my will. What an idiot. In fact, I’ll be pretending to be his happily ever after wife and the whole world will see anyway.”

  She sighed. “Are you sure about this?”

  I twisted my hair around my fingers and stared out the window at the gardens that overlooked the cliff and remembered teetering on the edge, riding the exhilaration of being on the cusp of danger while behind me crashed the strong, powerful waves upon the shore.

  “Yeah, Melody,” I said. “I’m sure about this.”