Daddy, Sir (Dirty Daddies 2024 Anthology #6)

Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Frankie

It was the bite of anger in his tone that stopped her in her tracks. Hurt and fury burned away the fog from the whiskey as she lifted her head to stare down at him. Here she was, actively trying to seduce him, and he was telling her to stop ?

“You don’t want me.”

“To the contrary, baby. I want you so fucking bad right now it’s killing me. But you’re drunk. Too drunk for me to do anything more than take you home, tuck you into bed, and wait until morning to fuck you senseless.”

Excuses. Nothing but excuses. She’d been rejected enough times, mostly by her own fucking parents, to know when she wasn’t wanted.

And he’d made it very fucking clear she wasn’t wanted.

“What a load of shit.” Fighting back tears, she slid from his lap and yanked her dress back down. “If you don’t want to fuck me, that’s fine. Just say so. Don’t act all white knight about it.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all.” Eyes narrowing, he rose from his chair and took a step toward her. “I don’t know why you’re twisting my words, but it stops right now. You’re lucky you also aren’t in any condition for me to spank some sense into you, because I am sorely tempted to do so, little girl.”

Hope clawed at her chest, painful talons of it, desperate for any little sign that the knife in her heart wasn’t real. “Then do it.” She could hear how desperate she sounded, but she was in too deep to care. “You want to, so do it. I give you my full consent to punish me however you want.”

His expression softened, and for one painful, fleeting moment, she thought she might actually be about to get her way. “Drunk consent isn’t consent, baby. You aren’t thinking clearly.”

So the knife was real. And it was plunged deeper than she’d even realized. “I’m thinking plenty clearly right now. Clearly enough to know I don’t want to waste my time with a man who doesn’t want me. Bye, Holden. Have a nice life.”

Spinning around, she strode out of his office, wobbling a bit on her heels as she walked. A little voice in the back of her head whispered that maybe he was right. Maybe he really was just being a good guy.

But that voice was drowned out by the pain. And the humiliation. This wasn’t the sexy kind of humiliation she’d experienced at the club, but a deeper, more primal kind that tore at the very fabric of her being. The kind that reminded her she’d never be good enough for anyone, even the man who’d made her believe for a few fleeting days that maybe, just maybe, he could actually love her, flawed and imperfect as she was.

“Francesca!” Bursting through his office door, he pinned her with a glare that had butterflies exploding in her stomach even through the hurt and humiliation. “Don’t you dare step one foot on that elevator, little girl.”

As if responding to a cue, the elevator doors opened with a ding and she stepped inside, schooling her expression into a smirk before she turned to face him. “You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore, Holden. We’re done.”

If there was one silver lining to the shit-show this evening had become, it was the look of pure shock on his face as the elevator slid shut between them.

Holden

For a moment, all he could do was stare at the doors that had just shut in his face.

What the hell had just happened?

He didn’t have time to stand around and figure it out. Turning on his heel, he ran for the stairs, his heart hammering against his chest as he slammed the door open.

Why did his office have to be on the top fucking floor?

His lungs were burning by the time he made it to the bottom, but he didn’t stop. And when he burst into the lobby, startling Anderson into leaping up from his chair, he only paused long enough to scan the empty space, his heart dropping into his stomach.

Empty.

“Where’d she go?” he snarled, earning a look of wide-eyed shock from his night guard.

“The redhead? Ah, I think she went east, but I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Fury sparked in Holden’s chest, but he held it back. It wasn’t Anderson’s fault his babygirl had apparently lost her goddamn mind. “Buzz the doors open for me. Now.”

Taking off at a run again, he wasted a few more precious seconds waiting for the doors to click open, and then he was outside, praying Anderson was right as he took off down the street. “Francesca!”

No answer, not that he’d been expecting one. He jogged around the entire block, scanning the dark as best he could for any glimpse of her.

Gone. Like a fucking ghost.

Panic, an emotion he was not at all familiar with, rose up, choking him with icy fingers as he fumbled his phone from his pocket. Pulling up her contact info, he hit the button to call her.

No answer.

“Motherfucker!”

Where the hell was she? It seemed far too quick for her to have called a ride, but the thought of her behind the wheel in her state filled him with so much fury and terror he couldn’t see straight. He hadn’t even thought to ask when she’d shown up at his office, but if he found out she’d put herself in that kind of danger, she wasn’t going to sit comfortably for a month.

Just as he was seriously considering calling in a few favors with the local cops, his phone buzzed in his hand. A text, from his babygirl.

I’m in an Uber, on my way home. Don’t call again. Ever.

Like hell he wouldn’t.

But maybe he should give her the night. Let her calm down, sleep off the alcohol. And tomorrow they could talk like calm, rational adults. Right before he put her over his knee and paddled her ass so red she learned to never, ever walk out on him like that again.

Clinging to the hope he’d have a chance to even touch her again, he tapped out his own message.

Let me know when you’re home. We will talk tomorrow, little girl.

Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he turned and headed toward his office. And tried not to imagine the worst.

Frankie

Squeezing her eyes shut against the pounding in her head, Frankie rolled onto her back with a groan.

How much had she had to drink last night?

Way too much, starting with the whiskey she’d had before she’d gone to see?—

“ Fuck .”

Slowly pushing herself up in her bed so as not to anger her already annoyed stomach, she reached for her phone, squinting blearily at the screen.

Let me know when you’re home. We will talk tomorrow, little girl.

Francesca. If you don’t let me know you’re safe, I’m going to come check on you myself.

Fine. I’m on my way.

Apparently she’d texted him back after that, with just one single word.

Home.

Tears clogged in her throat as she read his final message to her before he’d obviously given up.

Good girl. Text me when you’re up and ready to talk in the morning. If I don’t hear from you by noon, I’m going to call. And for the sake of your ass, you better answer. We aren’t done here, Francesca. Not by a long shot.

Bit by bit, the pieces of last night slid together in her mind. Getting way too drunk at home, checking his socials, deciding to surprise him at the office in an outfit her mother would have had a coronary over if she’d seen it.

Surprising him. Trying to seduce him. Being told to stop.

But instead of the anger she remembered from the night before, now she just felt sick to her stomach. In the cold light of day, she could see how she’d overreacted.

No. She hadn’t just overreacted. She’d been completely out of line. Holden had done the right thing, the honorable thing, and she’d repaid him by throwing a tantrum and storming out of his office.

What the hell was wrong with her?

Too many things to count, as her mother would gladly attest to. Though she sure as hell did try most days.

Holden deserved more. Deserved better. He deserved a submissive who followed the rules. Someone who wouldn’t freak out and break up with him for being a decent fucking human.

She wasn’t cut out for this. As much as she enjoyed the stuff they’d done at the club, she obviously wasn’t built to be a submissive. Not for real.

Dragging in a shaky breath, she blinked back the tears pooling in her eyes and tapped out one final message.

I’m awake, but I don’t want to talk. Sorry about last night. Clearly I’m not cut out for this… whatever it is you want from me. Do us both a favor and forget my number.

Within seconds of sending the message, her phone rang. Holden.

Daddy.

Nope. Not her Daddy. He deserved so much better than her, and she wasn’t going to stand in the way of him getting it by giving in to the ache in her chest at the sight of his name on her screen.

Turning the phone off, she tossed it aside, burrowing under her covers.

And cried herself back to sleep.

The End

Yeah… sorry about that. But Frankie and Holden do get a second chance at love in their full-length book, Break Me, Daddy . And this time, he’s not letting her get away so easily.