Her Forbidden Daddies (Daddies of Club Slade #1)

Prologue

F ifteen years old (nearly)

Indie stared up at the huge house in awe.

Wow.

Did her mum’s new man work here? Her mum constantly fell in and out of love. Sometimes, they’d move in with her latest boyfriend. Other times, the relationship would end before it got that far.

This time, things seemed almost different. Her mum was . . . happy?

Which was odd because Indie didn’t think that she’d ever seen her mum happy.

She’d known something was different about this guy when a dark car had pulled up in front of their dingy apartment building with an actual driver.

The car was so clean. It smelled amazing and the seats were really comfortable.

Where were they? They must have left London by now, it had been a long drive.

Hertfordshire? Oxford?

Shit. Maybe she actually should have asked her mum some questions this time.

“Mum? What are we doing here?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” her mum asked, a strangely serene look on her face.

Indie blinked at her. “I mean, does your new man work here or . . .”

“Work here?” her mum said with a scoff. “God, no, he doesn’t work here.”

Their driver parked and got out quietly.

“If he doesn’t work here, then what are we doing at this house?” Indie asked.

Could you call it a house? It was a freaking mansion.

Surely her boyfriend didn’t . . . didn’t own this house?

No, that was crazy.

Her mum laughed, making her wince. She had two sorts of laugh. One that was gleeful and one that was mean.

This was the gleeful one.

“We’ve hit the jackpot, darling. Work here? He owns this place. We’re rich.”

It was said with so much joy that Indie felt slightly ill.

If you were in love, it shouldn’t matter how much money the other person had, right?

Her mum’s feelings for someone seemed to be dependent on how much he had in his bank account.

Maybe that was why Indie had become a romantic.

Lord knew she didn’t want to be like her mother.

Her mother slid out of the car with a regal nod at the driver who had opened her door for her.

Bloody hell.

Indie wasn’t sure about this. Their current apartment was tiny and in a bad area of London. They were behind on the rent, the electricity was close to being cut off, and she hadn’t eaten since lunchtime yesterday because there was no food in the cupboards.

She’d been contemplating trying to sell some of her mum’s shoes and handbags. Mum would have been furious when she discovered them gone, but they needed to eat more than her mum needed to dress in designer wear.

Now she understood how she’d managed to buy all that stuff.

Indie got out of the car with a nervous smile at the driver. She felt so out of place. What was this guy going to be like?

“Miss? Are you all right?”

Indie startled and glanced around, suddenly realizing that her mum had disappeared.

Big shocker.

“Um, oh yes,” she managed to say.

Urgh, he was going to think she was an idiot.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” she said.

“It’s Andrew, miss,” he said in a kind voice.

“Please, call me Indie,” she said in a slightly desperate voice. It would be nice to have one friend here.

“All right, Miss Indie. Your stuff will arrive soon and I’ll have it sent up to your room. If you want to go inside, that is,” he added as she just stood there, staring at him.

Her stuff?

What did he mean, her stuff?

“Miss Indie? Are you all right?” he asked. “Were you expecting your things to be here already? I apologize for the inconvenience, this was the quickest we could arrange things.”

Great. Now he thought she was a spoiled brat.

“No, no, it’s not that. I just didn’t realize . . .”

Shoot. She couldn’t tell him that she’d had no idea she was moving here because her mother hadn’t bothered to tell her.

What did she know about living in a place like this? What was her mother’s new man going to think of her?

Her clothes all came from charity shops. Sure, she put her own Indie-spin on them but there was no mistaking them for what they were.

Hand-me-downs.

Worn items that had been washed countless times.

The soles of her shoes had holes in them, for God’s sake.

“Where . . . where did my mother go?” she finally managed to ask.

No use having a panic attack over any of this. It wasn’t like she could do anything to change her appearance.

Bloody hell.

Something flashed through Andrew’s face.

Pity? Anger? It was too quick for her to really tell.

“She’s gone inside, Miss Indie,” he explained gently.

Right. Of course she had.

“Sure, silly me. I saw her walk off,” she lied. “I guess I should . . . head inside.”

She walked up to the front door. This house had to be over a hundred years old. There was a wide circular driveway in front of it. The middle of the driveway held a fountain with a chubby cherub playing a harp. Water spurted out of its mouth.

The house itself looked like it was made of large shapes that had been pushed together. Huge triangle shaped peaks formed the gray slate roof. The walls were an off-white. It was intimidating and quirky-looking. Five wide stairs led up to the big wooden door.

After knocking and waiting, she realized might have to just walk in.

Bloody hell.

If she’d felt out of place before, she felt even more so now. Inside she found crisp white walls, dark floors and a sweeping staircase.

Where was Mum? Was Indie supposed to just wander around and attempt to find her?

The sound of male laughter made her jump. Then a door slammed. Unable to help herself, she followed the sound and found them in the kitchen .

The kitchen was probably bigger than their whole flat. It was all white with gleaming silver appliances. But it wasn’t the kitchen that interested her . . . nope, her attention immediately went to the four boys who were currently making themselves sandwiches.

She sucked in a sharp breath.

They had to be a few years older than her and they weren’t like the boys in her school.

These boys were built. And she could tell that because two of them were wearing sneakers and shorts.

And nothing else.

The biggest guy, who had short dark hair, wore a sleeveless T-shirt that displayed his impressive biceps. She ran her gaze over him, taking in his wide shoulders and legs that were thick with muscle.

How could someone this young be this muscular?

He wasn’t talking, just listening to the others as he nodded while making himself a huge sandwich.

Next to him, she’d feel tiny. And safe.

Indie shifted her gaze to the other three. One boy had sandy-blond hair that he kept brushing off his face. He wore a pair of neon pink shorts, and his smooth chest was bare. He was teasing one of the others about something, his smile was dazzling.

He looked like trouble. But the fun kind. The sort of trouble that you’d miss when it was gone and would do anything to keep.

The boy he was teasing had an amazing poker face. He simply crossed his arms over his chest as he stared down at the sandy-haired boy, then around the room. The calculating look in his gray eyes made her shiver.

He had his hair perfectly styled and wore a long-sleeved T-shirt. Unlike the others, he wasn’t hot and sweaty. As though sweat was too scared to touch him.

Finally, she moved her gaze to the fourth boy. And she froze.

He was pure, icy sin.

His hair was dark brown and slightly messy and he wore a pair of black shorts. There was something about the way that he watched his friends that made her think that he liked to be in charge.

That he liked to own rather than be owned.

This boy would carry out the murder Gray Eyes plotted.

Jesus.

She needed to stop reading so many dark romances. These were teenage boys. They weren’t killers. They weren’t calculated and dark and terrifying.

Yep. Her imagination was at it again. As they all started eating their sandwiches, her stomach gave a growl. Which would have been fine if it hadn’t happened just as they all stopped talking.

As one, they turned to her. The large boy moved protectively in front of the others. The smiling one’s grin dropped, although he gave her a curious look. Gray Eyes studied her like a bug under a microscope.

But it was the final boy that made her heart race.

His gaze wasn’t mean, but it wasn’t welcoming either.

“Who are you?” he asked in a smooth voice, his dark brown eyes narrowing in on her.

“I, um, well, I . . .”

Jesus, Indie.

Spit it out, you idiot.

“I’m Indie.”

Gray Eyes ran his gaze over her. She knew that he was taking in everything.

Her cheap clothing, her too-small shoes, her thin frame. She resisted the urge to cower in shame. Just because she didn’t fit in here didn’t mean they got to judge her by her appearance.

Raising her chin, she glared back at them.

Gray Eyes raised an eyebrow and gave the boy with eyes of sin a funny look that she couldn’t decipher.

“Well, I’m Indie ,” Sin drawled. “Just what are you doing here?”

Yep, that’s what she was calling him. Sin.

She winced at him calling her ‘I’m Indie’. He was making her sound like an idiot. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly .

You are just as good as these boys. Better, because you’re a nice person.

“I’m looking for my mum.”

“She’s not in here, Princess,” the smiling boy said. Why did he remind her of sunshine?

Indie frowned slightly. “It’s Indie, not Princess.”

His smile widened. “I know.”

She was confused. Before she could question him, though, Gray Eyes spoke up.

Maybe she should ask their names because this was getting a bit crazy.

“Who is your mum?” Gray Eyes asked.

“Her name is Sylvia,” she whispered. She really wished she could suck her thumb. She knew it was silly that a close-to-fifteen-year-old still sucked her thumb, but it was her comfort.

She didn’t have any toys from her childhood left. Nothing to comfort her. Only her thumb.

But you can’t do that right now.

She watched as they all stiffened.

“Sylvia has a daughter?” Sin demanded.

Indie winced. Great. Had her mum not told anyone about her? Surely she’d told her new boyfriend?

“Yeah, it’s me,” she said with a wave of her hand.

What was that?