eyes—my God, those eyes.
I swear I’m working with half a brain and a semi-hard cock these days.
Inviting her back to my apartment, I’d hoped to scratch the itch, but instead, I’ve fanned a flame. I can’t get her out of my mind.
Was it a mistake to reveal my daddy side to her?
Hell, no.
That woman has a baby girl hiding inside her and this daddy is going to bring it out of her. Soon, I’ll be spoiling her when she’s good, and spanking her ass when she’s sassy.
Which... is often.
She’s got a mouth on her that makes me want to take my belt off.
An ass that has me wanting to bend her over the counter of the bar every minute I’m working.
And an attitude that needs a serious adjustment. I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman more in need of firm discipline than Tori—a nickname that I’ve begun using when I think of her.
I’m a patient man. I can wait for her return. But I won’t be waiting long.
And when she comes to me, I’ll make good on my promise.
* * *
Victoria
What am I going to do?
My head is saying, ‘Steer clear! Head for open waters! Get away from Daddy Shark while you still can!’
My heart—and the even more stubborn protester, my pussy—tells me to go to him, throw myself into him arms and cry, ‘Daddy, Daddy, take me, Daddy!’
There’s only one thing that can soothe my scrambled brain when I get this confused over a decision. A long lunch with a good girlfriend.
Today, the woman I need is Charlotte. I pick up my phone and call her, hoping she’s free. “She should be available, seeing as her only responsibility is taking care of that hot ass husband of hers.”
She picks up on the first ring. “Oh, my gosh, Victoria! I was just thinking about you. Word on the street is that you were seen leaving Gotcha’s with that breathtaking bartender. The one all the Beauties drool over.”
The Beauties are known for their gossip chains and lengthy games of telephone. Giving a laugh, I say, “Word travels fast in your world.”
“You wouldn’t believe how many hours we spend gabbing over coffee and wine. You’d think we’d run out of things to talk about!”
Her happiness does not escape me. A lonely pang tears at my heart—I so want what she has. Smiling through my pain, I say, “I’ll bet.”
She says, “What are you up to? Please tell me you’re calling because you’re free for lunch today. I’d love to see you!”
“I am. How did you know?” I ask.
We make plans to meet at her favorite—Café Fresca, just outside the walls of the Village.
I arrive before her. I’m seated at an outdoor table for two. As I wait, I people watch. Several Beauties are here, dining in small groups. They drink wine, twirling pasta around the tines of their forks, smiles on their faces.
And laughing, always talking and laughing with one another.
Charlotte arrives and I almost don’t recognize her—I’m not yet used to her transformation. She’s gone from wearing bright colors and flip-flops, to chic outfits from designers whose names I can’t pronounce.
Today, she’s adorned in a deep red jumpsuit held up with spaghetti-thin straps. On her feet are matching sandals. With a heel.
Her makeup is perfect, her blonde hair freshly highlighted and piled on top of her head. Tossing what I assume to be a thousand-dollar mustard yellow handbag on the table, she cries, “Victoria! How are you?”
Overly aware of the casualness of my denim skirt and black tee shirt, I stand to greet her. “Thanks for meeting me.”
She takes a seat. “Anytime. Is this just a catch-up session, or is there more to our visit?”
I ask, “How’d you know? Does becoming a Beauty give you some kind of sixth sense? I’m beginning to think you’ve joined a coven of witches instead of a club of billionaire wives.”
She laughs, waving away my joke with her hand. The huge pear-shaped diamond on her left ring finger sparkles, catching the light. “No witches, no bitches. Not in my crowd! Just something in your voice sounded... urgent.”
“Maybe,” I say.
She leans in, waggling her brows. She whispers, “Does this have anything to do with a hot bartender?”
I repeat myself. “Maybe.”
The waiter arrives and Charlotte takes charge, ordering for the both of us without batting an eye. Her confidence is contagious, and I find myself sitting up straighter in my chair.
When the waiter leaves, she gives me an all-business look, demanding, “Spill it.”
I squirm in my