Call Me Daddy Read online

  "Oh, I get a choice this time?"

  Brandon smacked me lightly on the shoulder. "Don't be a smartass, Whit."

  "Fine, lay it on me. What's your opinion?"

  "My advice is to be careful. He clearly likes you. But you don't need to be the outlet he uses to sort out his issues."

  I recalled the conversation we'd been having in the car right before the crash. He'd said it was a fetish and that he'd enjoy it regardless of what issues he had. Maybe that was what he was doing, though, and we were both just too blind to see it.

  “Okay. I’ll take that under advisement.”

  Brandon opened his mouth like he might say something else, but he was interrupted by a squeal from the door. We both looked up in time to see Vanessa Marfont practically skip into the room. She set her bags down by the door and hurried over to me, throwing her arms around my neck.

  I winced when her enthusiastic greeting reignited the throbbing in the side of my head.

  "Oh my God, Whitney! I just heard! Are you okay?"

  Vanessa's shiny curls had been dyed red, and she was wearing an eye-watering shade of pink. She'd decked herself out in hearts. It seemed like someone was very into the upcoming holiday. I blinked at her in surprise. Yeah, Vanessa and I went shopping sometimes, but we were the sort of friends who only called each other up when there was a party to attend or money to be spent. We weren't the sort of friends who sat by each other's sick beds and cried over each other's pain. I'd been avoiding contact with her since Jace's prohibition on partying.

  I bit my lip. Surely he couldn't get mad at me for this? It wasn't like I'd invited her here. And it wasn't like I was going to be up for any sort of punishment until we were both well.

  "Hey, Vanessa. I'm fine. Just a concussion. My date was hurt worse than I was."

  Something flickered across her face, and she managed to force her cheeks into a cheerful facsimile of a smile before I could read what it was. I was forcibly reminded of my mother's earlier insinuation about Jace, and I felt the need to defend him, even though Vanessa hadn't said anything yet.

  "We weren't drunk. The cops said the other driver was definitely to blame. They hit us in just the wrong way and then they drove away. Can you believe that?"

  Vanessa shrugged and plopped herself down on one side of my bed. "Yeah, unfortunately, I can. New Yorkers can be such assholes."

  Whitney grinned. "You are a New Yorker, honey."

  "I know. I'm practically the bitchy mascot."

  I couldn't help but laugh at that. This chat was reminding me why exactly I'd begun hanging around people like Vanessa in the first place. There were times when they knew just how to make me laugh. And after Jace's moody silences, it felt really good to have a little levity back in my life.

  "Are any of the other girls coming to visit? I should probably tell Jace. He doesn't approve of my friends."

  Again, something flickered in her eyes. Surprise, maybe? Or jealousy? I could understand both. If I'd found out that Jace was dating someone in my social circle and it hadn't been me, I would have been a little sour, too.

  I smiled to soften the criticism. "I'm sure he'll make an exception for you, Vanessa. You came to see me."

  She shook her head ruefully. "I think I should probably clear out. Wouldn't want you getting in trouble with your boyfriend. I'll see you at the party."

  Brandon pushed away from the bed and offered her an arm. "I'll see you to the door, Ness. I'm glad you came to see my sister."

  Vanessa seemed pleased by the offer and took his arm with a smile. "Any chance I could get a ride home? My car officially died in the parking lot. I knew Daddy would regret getting me the cheaper model."

  I rolled my eyes. I doubted that anything was actually wrong with Vanessa's car. This was a usual tactic for her. Men absolutely fell all over themselves to help her when she played the damsel in distress. If she managed to make my brother another notch in her lipstick case, I was going to be very disappointed in him.

  "See you," she called over her shoulder. She picked up her bags and then disappeared around the corner with my brother.

  I just stared at the blank patch of wall where they'd been. That had been extremely odd. Entertaining, but odd.

  A few minutes later, Jace returned with my candy bar, and he handed it to me wordlessly. I bit into it to keep myself from asking the questions burning the back of my tongue. But there wasn't enough chocolate in the world to hold my tongue forever. After the nougat had been thoroughly chewed and swallowed, I asked the most pertinent question.

  "Are we going to talk about what happened?"

  A subtle tightening at the edges of Jace's eyes and mouth gave me all the answer I needed. I sighed. "So that's a no."

  "You could have died. If the car had hit us even a foot lower, you would have."

  I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood. He glowered at me. "I told you to sit down. You're going to fall and split your head open."

  I shuffled forward, ignoring the poisonous look he was giving me. I flung my arms around his waist and pressed my head into his chest. His shirt was stiff with dried blood, but I didn't care. I pressed my ear against his pectoral muscle and closed my eyes, listening to the hammering of his heart. After a few seconds, his arms closed around me, trapping me against his broad chest.

  "I'm alive, Jace. I'm alright. We're both alright."

  "But you could have died." It came out as a strained whisper. "And then I'd have lost someone else. Why does goddamn winter hate me so much?"

  "Did you start a blood feud with Jack Frost?" I asked in a weak impression of humor. He didn't dignify that with a response. Probably just as well. It was probably the worst joke I'd ever told in my life. I tightened my hold on him. He was so big and broad that it was difficult to make my fingers touch his back.

  His hand came up to stroke my hair, and he guided us to sit in the gray armchair my brother had abandoned. I pulled my legs beneath me, feeling like a little girl curled up on her father's lap. It should have bothered me that I trusted this man with my heart and my safety more than my own father. But in Jace's arms, I felt safe and warm and loved.

  My eyelids fluttered closed of their own accord when Jace draped the thin hospital sheet over us both and tucked us in.

  "Sleep now, baby girl. We'll talk more in the morning.”

  Stepping into the upscale jewelry store felt like sliding into a pair of shoes that no longer fit me quite right. The changes that Jace had wrought in me were subtle and hadn't felt like a big deal at the time. But his rules and steady, firm hand had helped shape me more than I'd realized.

  A month ago, I wouldn't have been able to come into this place without coming out with something for myself. It made my cheeks burn with embarrassment to realize that I might have even prioritized my own indulgence over Brandon's gift.

  But the money in my hand was worth more to me now that it was mine. I'd earned every cent through endless hours of boredom, scheduling, and grueling phone calls.

  And even if that hadn't been the case, Jace was with me, and the fear of his censure kept me from reaching for a pair of earrings or a shiny bracelet. My fear of disappointing him was far greater than my desire for another piece of jewelry.

  "You said we'd talk about it," I reminded him. "Was that a lie? I thought honesty was part of the process, Daddy."

  I kept my voice low so that the skinny brunette escorting us through the store didn't hear me. I knew some women called their boyfriends “Daddy” in public, but I still wasn't comfortable with people knowing that I did it.

  "Everything that needed to be said was said last night."

  My chest felt hollow, like someone had scooped out my lungs and I was struggling to breathe. I'd been fighting a panic attack all morning. There was a distant, familiar look on Jace’s face that most men got before they bolted out of my life.

  He said he wouldn't do that, I reminded myself. He said he'd stay.

  The pair of cufflinks I bought cost l
ess than I'd anticipated, leaving me with a few hundred left to my name when we were through.

  I spread the four hundred-dollar bills in front of my face like a Regency woman wielding her fan and blinked coquettishly at him.

  "So what do we do now? Shall we go to the bank and deposit this? That would be the responsible thing to do."

  He nodded sagely. "Yes, it would. And the fact that you even mentioned it as a possibility pleases me. But no. We're going to have ice cream."

  It was such a normal sentence, but coming from him, it caught me off guard. "Ice cream?"

  "Would you rather have something else?"

  I shook my head. "No. Ice cream is great."

  Jace bid the shopkeeper farewell in an almost bored tone and escorted me out of the boutique. The streets of Rochester were bustling with early morning pedestrians, and he kept me curled tightly into his body to protect me from the brunt of the shoving and elbowing.

  I felt a big, goofy smile spread across my face when we stepped into the ice cream parlor fifteen minutes later. "You know, I've seen these in movies, but I've never actually been inside of one."

  "Never?"

  "No. Mom started me on my first diet when I was seven. I've never actually had anything like this."

  Jace's expression was one of mingled pity and anger. "Fucking Irene Farbridge," he muttered.

  We joined the queue of people waiting to order, and I gazed up at the sign. There were so many choices. All of them would have made my mother clutch her pearls and remind me how fat I'd get if I ate them.

  "I can't decide. I kind of want them all."

  "Okay. You'll have them all then."

  "What?"

  He stepped up to the counter and ordered one scoop of everything on the menu. I just stared at him a little gobsmacked. Was he really doing this for me? Why? The teen behind the counter had to spend a few minutes putting our order in, and Jace paid for the order.

  "I could have paid for it," I pointed out as we made our way to a booth near the back.

  "I know. But this is my treat. You've been a good girl."

  I probably puffed up like a peacock at the praise. I didn't care. It felt so good to have someone be proud of me for once. For anything at all. Even if it was something small.

  Our table ended up piled high with small ice cream containers. I took a tiny spoonful of each scoop, savoring them as we went. The ones I didn't like went to Jace, but that still left a large pile in front of me. Some of them ended up melted before I could get to them.

  Jace laughed when he spotted the state of my face and blouse. "You look like the Wonka factory puked on you, baby girl."

  I couldn't find it in myself to be offended. I was buzzing from all of the sugar, high on his praise, and getting drunk off of the good humor radiating from him. It was good to see his familiar smile again.

  He reached across the table and wiped away the worst of it with a napkin.

  "You're a mess."

  "Ah, but I'm your mess," I sighed happily. "Forever, if you want me."

  He paused, and the napkin rasped against my skin audibly in the silence that fell between us. I shut my mouth as shame trickled into my belly. Damn it. I'd done it again. I was scaring him off. I dropped my gaze to the melted dish of cotton candy ice cream and tried not to look at him. Maybe if I pretended it hadn't happened, we could return to the way we'd been before.

  Strong fingers wrapped around my chin and tugged my face up. I tried to keep my eyes down, even though his desire was almost palpable. He didn't even have to say the words for me to know what he was thinking. Look at me, baby girl.

  I was helpless in the face of that desire. I slowly glanced up to find his piercing blue eyes on my face. They were incredibly soft. He leaned halfway across the booth to give me a kiss so soft and chaste it made tears prick in the corners of my eyes. I'd gotten used to his firm control, his guiding hand, and his protection. But he'd never been sweet with me before. Not like this.

  "Whitney," he breathed. His tone curled around the name like it was precious. "Whitney, baby, I've got to go."

  I jerked back so fast my back hit the padded booth seat with a smack. "What? Why?"

  "I'm going to take you back to my home, and then I'm going to take off for a couple of days. I need to think."

  "About what?" My voice climbed a little in panic. "About us? Don't. I won't say things like that again. Just stay with me."

  He leaned in even farther so he could reach me again. His lips pressed against my forehead, and his hand smoothed over my hair. "Shush."

  But I couldn't stop the soft whimper that escaped me or the shaking that seized my body. No, no, no. No, he couldn't do this.

  "The birthday party is on Saturday. You said you'd go with me."

  Jace pulled me to my feet and wrapped an arm around my waist. We left the many, many glass containers on the table. The noonday sun that greeted us outside nearly blinded me. Worse, it illuminated the tears I hadn't been able to suppress.

  "I'm going to try to be there." He wiped one tear away with his thumb and kissed me again. "Trust me. This has nothing to do with you. I just need to go away for a few days to think."

  I felt like a mannequin that had had its strings cut. I was weak and immobile without someone to guide me, and I was completely mute. Inside, I was a riot of emotions.

  It's not you; it's me. I'd heard that one before. It was me. It was always me. I was screwing things up again, trying to sink my nails into someone who wasn't interested in me.

  Jace forced me to look at him again. "Do you trust me?"

  And for the first time since we'd started this little venture, I broke rule number three. I forced myself to sniff back the tears and grin at him.

  "Of course I do, Daddy," I lied.

  13

  Jace

  Leaving Whitney behind felt like having one of my arms sawed off. I’d gotten so used to her constant presence, her little witticisms, and her beautiful face that not having her by my side felt wrong.

  But having her here would defeat the purpose of leaving in the first place, so I checked my impulse to text her something to that effect.

  I loved Whitney. I shouldn’t. I hadn’t intended to. But now, it had happened, and I had no idea what to do about it. I leaned my forehead against the railing of my mom’s bedside and let out a shaky breath.

  On impulse, I seized her hand and squeezed it lightly. Her fingers were clammy, and she was paler than the last time I’d come to visit. My mother’s face was growing lined, even without motion to crease it. Her dark hair had faded almost completely to gray without anyone to keep up with the dye jobs she’d been religiously devoted to.

  I was surprised that Irene Farbridge hadn’t tried. I supposed the hospital probably had regulations about that sort of thing. Thoughts of Irene brought me back around to Whitney, which is where my mind tended to live these days.

  When she wasn’t in my sight, I wanted to know where she was, what she was doing, and if she was thinking about me. I craved her like a shot of burning whiskey. It might hurt a little going down, but it was worth the sting once it cleared your tastebuds. Whitney’s presence could be a bit abrasive at first, but when I got right down to it, she was all sweetness.

  But I couldn’t keep her. I wasn’t sure what cosmic plan had decided that I needed to die alone and in misery, but its track record was pretty good. It was only Devlin’s superior skill as a driver that had saved me from losing Whitney the other night.

  “I don’t know what to do, Mom.”

  I tried to picture what she’d say to me if she were still alert. But that only drew me back to the reason I’d fled in the first place.

  The thing that made me fear the most for Whitney’s safety was far, far beyond my control. Accidents happened, and they seemed to happen very frequently near me. She'd probably be safer if I let her be. But doing that made me feel achingly empty inside. I needed her in my life. In my bed. And as saccharine as it sounded, I needed her in my he
art.

  "I suppose you'd tell me not to be like Dad," I said with a small smile. "Always thinking too far ahead. Focus on the here and now. The rest can wait."

  I'd done everything right, trying to protect Whitney, but I'd still failed. She was still injured. The bruises on her chest where the seat belt had dug into her were visible reminders that I'd failed as her dominant. I'd let her get hurt.

  "And you'd probably smack me upside the head," I continued as if she could hear my thoughts, "for getting so frazzled by something I can't change. Can't swaddle her in bubble wrap, I suppose."

  Though that did get me to thinking. Her position as PA didn't demand that she come into the office. I'd had people telecommute for my company before.

  A weight came off my shoulders as soon as I thought of that. It would take some convincing to get Whitney to agree to my plan, but I was sure I could coax her into seeing my point of view.

  "Thanks, Mom," I murmured. I pushed away from the bed as a nurse entered the room. I barely took note of the purple scrubs in my periphery. That was, until she spoke.

  "Hey, lover," she purred.

  I spun on my heel to face the doorway. Vee was standing in the doorway, looking for all the world like a chesty, red-headed nurse. When had she dyed her hair? The last time I'd seen her, she'd been a brunette.

  "Vanessa," I hissed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  She closed the door with a flick of one slender wrist and then leaned against it to keep it closed. "I told you. I still want you. And you'll see that I'm your perfect match once your little trollop makes a fool of herself at the birthday party."

  I ground my teeth and jabbed a finger at her. "This is beyond the pale, Vee. I'm not kidding. I'm going to tell every dom in New York that you're unstable. No one is going to give you what you want, least of all me."

  Her lip jutted in a practiced pout. At one point, some part of me had been delirious enough to find it cute. "You say that now. But she's going to embarrass you in front of everyone. She's not worth your time."