Bossy Daddy (Yes, Daddy Book 2)

company which bears my name, not to mention the very building where you are standing, I demand control.” He pauses. “Sixteen hour days? I’ve logged that many hours by four p.m. most days of the week, including weekends. See, entitled young brats like yourself read an Internet article or two from some self-entitled trust fund kid who's been coddled their entire life and told they were the best at everything, only to come here and find they can’t cut it in the real world. I demand the best, and I lead from the front.”

My mouth falls open, both in awe and in preparation to argue, but I quickly clap it shut, thinking better than to leave it open and allow him the gratification of the verbal judo he just cut me in half with, or to argue.

“And that, little girl, is why your obedience is non-negotiable.”

Little girl?

Those two little words, two seemingly innocuous words that weren’t a title nor exactly a put down for my lack of experience, cause something inside me to stir. A feeling, something I can’t quite put my thumb on yet there’s something in my groin that could sure use a few strokes of my thumb right now in response to the feeling those two words are giving me.

I remain silent, which coincidentally speaks volumes louder than anything I could voice at that moment.

Mr. Steele leans forward, his forehead just inches from mine and the scent of his musky, masculine fury causes me to feel light-headed.

“Young lady, I want you to listen to me,” he begins, as my head tilts down and away but his cat-like reactions are too quick, the calloused tip of his index finger finding my jaw and lifting my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his. “I believe that for some reason unbeknownst to either of us, maybe divine intervention for all I know, you were thrown into my life today. Like you, I’m an artist. I don’t live in a world of science, but in a world of emotions and feelings and despite my apparent lack of displaying either ninety-nine percent of my time on this earth, I am lead by what I feel. And I feel inside me, I know, that I can be the best thing that ever happened to you. But for me to be the best I can be for you, you need to trust me. Always. Can you do that for me?”

In like a lion and out like a lamb. The question is, is this some sort of sudden change of heart to lure me into a trap?

Or was this big game about to be the prized head on my wall?

Regardless of the push-pull happening between us, the change of pace from a bull in a china shop to a caring, dare I say paternal figure I never had, catches me off guard and I can do nothing but nod in reply, despite the fact that we both know I don’t trust him.

Which only made it more arousing.

His back straightens as his finger slides away from my chin, the rough surface surprising me from a man in a suit costing well into the four-figure range.

“Eight o’clock tomorrow morning. My office. Don’t be late.”

I nod again, not trusting my voice one bit.

“I’m serious. Don’t test me on this. It’s for your own good.”

I pivot on my heel, figuring it’s best to get out while I’m ahead, and apparently now gainfully employed.

I clear the reception area and luckily find an elevator ready and waiting, despite being on the top floor.

As soon as I step inside and the door closes I let out an exhale that I didn’t know I was holding, and a majority of the tightness in my chest fades with it.

There are roller coaster rides longer than the amount of time I was in that man’s office, but I can guarantee none take your breath away like that adventure just did.

My heart is racing, and I remember the old saying that rumors run marathons in small communities, the high brow art world being no exception.

Now I was one step closer to finding out if the rumor that had been circulating had any weight to it, because word on the street was that if anyone knew anything about my dad’s death it was Mr. Steele, or sir, as he wished to be called.

And I had the unsettling feeling that sir would be only one of the titles this man would demand I call him.

I wasn’t sure what else, but I knew there would be more. The only question was, would I accept?

2 Silas

I pace the length of my office, my hands behind my back. When I reach the row of expensive whiskey bottles I brush my fingers across their tops.

I only have that bar here for guests, never to partake myself.

Until today.

The moment I saw her face in the reception area on my CCTV there was a certain recognition, a moment where I just knew this girl was so much more than just a job applicant.

She’s mine.

It’s a thought that’s never crossed my mind in all my thirty-nine years. I’m not even one for dating, at all. I have no time and no interest, as witnessed by the unopened invite to tonight’s black tie affair to be hosted in some swanky rooftop lounge in Brickell, the wealthiest district of Miami.

There’s a possessiveness over this girl that’s growing inside of me. It’s new, unlike any pull to another human being I’ve ever felt. Although the thought of having children has never once crossed my mind, suddenly there’s something paternal going on inside me. There’s a growing feeling that she belongs to me, and I want everything good and wonderful in the world for her. And I want to be the one who drops it at her feet, right in front