Possessive Baby Daddy

by Hamel, B. B.

  Klara glares at her dad. “You’ll drink yourself to death if you take that cash.”

  He snorts. “Oh, maybe. I’m not so sure about that, though. It hasn’t happened yet.”

  She doesn’t argue.

  “But here’s the thing. I want that money, I won’t lie.” He looks at me. “But I still love my daughter. I want her to be happy. I want her to have everything she wants, including this company. If you buy it, can you guarantee she’ll run the place?”

  “No,” she says. “Absolutely not. I won’t work for him.”

  “You won’t be working for me,” I say. “I mean, I’ll own the company, but—”

  “No,” she says again, rage in her eyes. “Absolutely not.”

  Aldo sighs and sips his drink. “That’s a problem.”

  “Dad. This is mine. You know it. Don’t do this.”

  “Okay, I hear you. I also hear his offer and all those zeroes.” He gestures with his drink and some spills onto the table. “I just had an amazing idea.”

  Klara looks worried and I have the good sense to feel the same. I suspect this man has a lot of ideas, and very few of them are good.

  “You two want control of a reality television production company, right?” he asks. “Well, what does reality television do better than anyone else?”

  “Pump out trashy, entertaining content,” I say.

  He gives me an approving nod. “Right. But more specifically.”

  “Dad,” Klara says, her voice warning.

  He grins. “Reality TV does contests. It does adventures. So here’s what I’m thinking. You two will compete, and I’ll choose the winner.”

  “No,” we both say at the same time. She looks at me with murder in her eyes and I smile back.

  “Yes,” Aldo says. “Or I’ll just keep running the company. You two think I want to retire?” He barks a laugh. “I planned on working here until the day that I die.”

  Klara looks horrified and I give her a sad smile. That’s exactly what I thought, and exactly why I want to buy this place out.

  A guy like Aldo won’t retire. Not when there’s booze and fun meetings. He can keep working until he’s too old and decrepit to leave his house, or until his heart gives out. Probably the latter, but who knows.

  I want to tell her my reasoning. If I buy this company, she can run it tomorrow. She can have everything she wants and more. I’ll build a daycare just for her, I’ll make sure she can have all the time off she wants. I’ll never replace her.

  But she’s too angry, and her father’s right there. I can’t say all this right now. I don’t think she’ll believe me, even if I did.

  So I sit back and I say nothing.

  “What do you say?” he asks. “Compete for it. That’s fair, right? I’ll come up with some contests and you two will duke it out. Winner gets the company.”

  “Why, Dad?” she asks, and I hate the hurt in her voice.

  “Because,” he says, and shrugs. “What else are we going to do?”

  She stands up and shakes her head. “This is insane. You’re insane, Dad. And you’re a bastard.” She glares at me before storming out of the room.

  “Give her time,” Aldo says, “she’ll come around.”

  I look at him and shake my head. “Just sell to me. She’ll be happy in the end.”

  “I don’t think so,” he says, leaning forward. “Thing is, I know about you and your family. I know how much you’re worth. I think you could buy this place for double what you offered. I won’t try and milk more money from you, but I am going to get some fucking entertainment before you both roll me off into retirement.”

  I meet his gaze and slowly smile. “Okay then.” I push my chair back and stand. “I’ll compete. And when I win, you retire. No hanging around the offices. No consulting. You’re gone.”

  “Fine by me.” He shrugs. “Wouldn’t want to hang around anyway.”

  “Good.”

  I turn and leave the conference room. I hesitate, looking around. I want to find Klara and try to explain, but I don’t want to make a scene, and I’m afraid she can’t listen right now.

  I’ll talk to her later.

  Right now, I should get out of here before Aldo decides our first little contest starts today.

  7

  Klara

  “How the fuck could you, Dad?” I stare at him and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so angry in my life. He smiles back at me and tilts his head like he doesn’t understand my fury.

  “I don’t get why you’re so mad. You were born for this, honey. All you gotta do is win.”

  “All I gotta do is… Are you listening to yourself?”

  He shrugs. “Sure.”

  “You’re entrusting the future of your company, the empire you built from the ground up, to some fucking game show. Do you have any idea how insane that is?”

  “First of all, it’s not a game show. Nobody’s filming. And second, I know that.” He leans back in his chair and kicks his feet up on the desk. He’s smoking a cigar at eight in the morning and looks happier than I’ve seen him in years. “I’ve learned something in my life, honey. Do you want to know it?”

  “Not even a little.”

  “I’ve learned that life can be fun, if you let it. And this decision isn’t easy for me… so why not make it fun at least? Come on, kiddo. Just relax and enjoy the process.” He smiles at me and puffs his cigar.

  I lean over his desk and smack the cigar from his mouth. He frowns then gets up and gingerly lifts it off the floor. He blows on the wet end and sticks it back in his mouth, puffing away with a smile.

  I glare at him. I’ve never hated my father so much before in my life, but right now I think he’s a monster. I’ve always known that he’s a vain, self-interested little man, but I thought he loved me at least. I always thought that was the one redeeming thing about him.

  Now I realize I was wrong.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I’m rooting for you,” he says. “Even though I’ll make way less money if you win.”

  “Thanks, Aldo,” I say.

  “Oh, come on. Don’t be like that.”

  “I’m done with you.” My voice is low and I’ve never felt so sure of something in my life. “When this is over, we’re through. I never want to see you again.”

  “Don’t be like that,” he says again. “You’ll change your mind. Like I said, this contest was made for you.”

  “Go to hell.”

  He laughs and picks up his phone. He starts to tap at it and I stare like he’s insane, because I’m pretty sure he is.

  “Well, here’s the thing. Whether you hate me or not is a moot point, because the contest starts riiiiiiight…. Now.” He taps his phone. It makes a whooshing sound, like he just sent an email. “So, I need you to go to Palos Verdes and build a sandcastle two feet high. Whoever builds it first wins.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Clock’s ticking.” He taps his phone again. “Just texted and emailed Shaun. If you’re lucky, he won’t see it for a while.”

  “You’re such a dick.”

  He shrugs and puffs his cigar. “I get why you might think that. But you don’t really have time to waste here, kiddo. You’d better get moving.”

  I stand there for a long moment, my heart beating fast. I don’t know what I should do. If I play this game, I’m legitimizing this insanity, but if I don’t, he might actually follow through and sell. Frankly, I think he’s looking for any reason to get me out of the way. He wants that money more than he wants to make me happy.

  That much is obvious.

  I bet he wants me to be so angry I don’t follow through. I bet that’s his whole plan. Goad me into this absurd farce of a performance and laugh as I quit. He’ll sign the sheet with Shaun and walk away a very rich man.

  Or I can play along. I can shut my mouth, suck it up, and win this stupid contest. And when it’s over, I’ll have my company, and I’ll turn it into what I’ve always wanted it to be.


  I turn my back to him. “How do I prove it?” I ask.

  He laughs, delighted. “I have it all set up already. You’ll see. I borrowed some production assistants for this, I hope you don’t mind.”

  I shake my head and don’t reply. I leave his office, walking fast.

  Anger flows through me. Anger at myself for falling into this trap, anger at my father for putting his daughter through this. And anger at Shaun for trying to rip this thing away from me.

  There was a piece of me that thought Shaun meant it when he said he wanted me. Maybe I wasn’t ready for that, but at least there was a part that thought he really was going to stay in my life and help me with all this.

  That part is dead and buried.

  When I’m out of sight of my dad, I run as fast as I can out of the building, jump in my car, and hit the road. There will be traffic this time of day, there’s always traffic around here. I just have to hope Shaun hits something worse.

  * * *

  I park my car and jump out. I hurry over to the steps that lead down to the beach and run down them. As I get close to the beach, I slow and stop in my trail, staring down at a huge sign.

  It says, BUILD YOUR OWN SANDCASTLE, FREE TODAY!

  I clench my jaw. “Sandcastles are always free,” I mutter before hurrying down the rest of the way. I hit the sand and trudge over to the sign. Three young men are sitting around it wearing khakis and polo shirts and holding clipboards. When they see me coming, they all perk up.

  “Klara, hi there,” says the closest. He looks like he’s twelve and has black hair. “Oh, man, I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Your name is Ryan, right?”

  He looks so excited when I remember his name. “That’s right.”

  “Okay, Ryan. What’s the deal?”

  “Well, your father set this up. So you’re supposed to go build a sandcastle just over there. We got all the tools you’ll need. And we have tape measures, so whenever it’s over two feet, you’re all set. Oh, and there are a bunch of kids building too but you can just ignore them.”

  I give him a flat stare. “Thanks.”

  “Oh, good luck!”

  I hesitate. “Is Shaun here yet?”

  He grins and shakes his head. I give him a tight smile then walk around to the other side of the sign and grab a shovel.

  Six other young kids are all sitting around and building their castles. I skip the dry sand and head down to the water, digging as much of it as I can into my bucket. I bring it all back up and upend it, forming the pile into the best approximation of a tower as I can manage.

  “That looks bad.”

  I look over. A boy about eight years old is standing nearby, frowning at me.

  “It’s not about looking good, kid,” I say, turning back to my sand pile. “It’s about making it big.”

  “No, sand castles are about looking cool. Yours just looks… bad.”

  “First of all, stop talking to me, I’m a stranger. And second, you don’t know what you’re talking about, kid.”

  He grunts and turns back to his own castle.

  I head down to the water to get more. As I trudge back up, straining to carry the heavy bucket, I watch as Shaun comes walking down the beach.

  I dump my sand out and start to add it to my first pile. By the time I’m halfway through, Shaun comes around the sign and spots me. He walks over and crouches down. “Hey,” he says.

  “Go away.”

  “Why? It’s a nice day. Want to go for a swim?”

  I glance at him. “No, thanks.”

  “Fine.” He cocks his head. “Nice castle.”

  “It’s not about looking good,” I grumble. “It’s about making it big.”

  “Right. Sure.” He laughs. “So this is the first contest, huh?”

  “Yep. And you’re losing.”

  He eyes me and smiles. “Looks like it.”

  I look back. “Well, why don’t you start building? You’re not going to catch up if you don’t try.”

  “I don’t know.” He sits down in the sand and leans back, getting partially into the shade cast by the huge sign. “I like watching you.”

  I throw my shovel down. “If you’re not going to do this, why the hell are you even here?”

  He frowns. “Watch your language. Children are present.”

  I look around at the kids and bristle with rage, but I get myself together. I can’t keep losing my temper like this. If I’m going to play this game, I need to play it with a cool head.

  “Look,” I say. “I don’t get what you’re trying to do here. If you want to be a part of my life, buying this business out from under me isn’t going to make me want you.”

  “Maybe not,” he says. “But I’m gambling that giving you want you want will at least make you want to be around me. Then my charming self will do the rest.”

  “How do you think that’ll work?”

  He shrugs. “I’m delightful.”

  I stare at him. He’s insane. My father is insane, and this man is insane.

  The father of my child is a crazy man.

  “Look, start building. I’m serious. I’m going to be so pissed if you let me do these stupid contests alone.”

  He frowns. “Really?”

  “Really. Don’t let me look dumb, okay?”

  “Fine.” He gets up and grabs a bucket. “How high should it be again?”

  “One foot.”

  He winks at me. “I know you’re lying.” He walks down to the water and I watch him go.

  I let out a sigh, not able to help myself. He’s still as handsome as ever, and he still makes my stomach do flips. Even though I hate what he’s doing, I still can’t help but want him.

  I can’t get that night out of my head.

  No matter what I do, there’s always that night, always that pleasure he made me feel. It’s so terrifying, but so exciting. Every time he’s around me, I get a jolt of memory, and it brings me back to that pure ecstasy.

  God, what a stupid, incredible mistake.

  He comes back, lugging his bucket, and dumps it. He frowns at my lump as I add more sand.

  “That’s not a castle,” he says. “And the rules stipulate a castle.”

  “It’s a castle,” I say. “Just an ugly one. It’s utilitarian. Built to repel invaders.”

  “What kind of invaders?”

  “Sand crabs.”

  “The worst kind,” he says, nodding.

  I smile despite myself. “Get to work, idiot.”

  He grins and dumps his bucket all at once. Then he grabs some shaped buckets and fills those up. While I make my tower higher, packing it in to keep it from falling over, he starts to build an actual castle.

  I get more wet sand. When I come back, he has four small towers, and he’s starting on the walls. “Now this is a castle,” he says. “You ever build these as a kid?”

  “Of course.” I dump my sand and start adding it to the pile. It’s about halfway finished, and I’ll probably need one, maybe two more buckets. “We used to come to this beach a lot when I was a kid.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure, this was our beach. Dad and I would set up over there. He’d sit out in the sun all day without sunscreen. The first visit, he’d be bright red and cursing all night. Then after that, he’d be super tan.”

  Shaun laughs. “Did he make you wear sunscreen?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I say. “He wasn’t always the drunk, irresponsible asshole he is now.”

  “What happened to him?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I admit. “Well, I think I can guess.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  I glance at him and frown. “What do you care?”

  “Pretend I don’t. But I’m asking anyway.”

  I roll my eyes. “My dad was always ambitious,” I say. “And I think the world’s let him down one too many times.”

  “But you guys have Divas,” he points out.

  “Divas was mi
ne,” I say. “I came up with the concept. I scouted the talent. I put Divas together. He just rubber-stamped the project.”

  He builds quietly for a time. He puts up the walls between his four towers then puts a tower in the center. He leans back and grins. “Castle,” he says.

  “Beautiful. But it needs to be taller.”

  He tilts his head. “I’ll work on it.”

  “Good.” I get up and trudge back to the wet sand. I get more, plus a little water, and trudge back. I wet the pile I have already before it can crumble and fall before starting to add more sand.

  He sits there and watches me. “I know a thing or two about ambitious parents,” he says.

  “I’m sure you do,” I murmur.

  “My father is the opposite of yours. Loves to hunt and fish, but doesn’t do much. He wasn’t around much when we were growing up. I just remember a blob where my father’s face should be.”

  I glance over at him. He’s leaning back again, watching me work. “That’s a shame,” I say, more to be polite than anything else. I wish he’d stop talking. “Must have been hard.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes it was nice, you know? Never had to worry about him. But my mother…”

  “She’s the head of the family, right?” I look up and meet his beautiful gaze. He smirks and nods.

  “So you listened.”

  “Not everyone’s an asshole like you.”

  He laughs and I go back to building. He sighs and tilts his face up toward the sun. “I think my mother is a good person,” he says. “But it’s an interesting thought, isn’t it? Hard to think of your parents as anything but good people.”

  “Not really,” I say. “My father’s a bastard.”

  “Come on. You don’t really think that. I mean, all this is insane, and I’d hate him too if I were you, but you don’t think he’s a bad person.”

  I hesitate. I have a response on the tip of my tongue, but I hesitate anyway. I think back to my childhood, to the way he raised me as a single dad, to the way he helped me through school, to the way he guided me into the business. So he’s always been kind of smarmy, but he wasn’t always an outright bastard.