6. Weston
“Where am I supposed to be?” I don’t even attempt to hide my annoyance that I’m in a packed room full of strangers. I’ve done very well at avoiding situations like this for the last several years. Mirabelle always insisted that as a billionaire and philanthropist, my face needed to be seen, but I prefer the exact opposite. I’d rather write a check and keep to myself and my business. I’m not exactly the kiss ass and rub elbows kind of guy.
“In the main booth, over here.” Daphne ushers me to a booth in the back corner, her hips swiveling in a tempting little manner as I walk behind her.
“And what am I doing?”
“Did you not read the email I sent over?” She looks genuinely upset like this is a life-or-death situation.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Figures,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “This is the main booth where everyone is dropping off their baked goods. You register them and then place them on the tables.”
“Is someone going to be helping me or am I just expected to figure this all out?” She’s getting more irritated by the second, which amuses me.
“You’re a billionaire business owner, Mr. Vaughn. I’m sure you can navigate a bake sale.” I stare at her, waiting for a real answer. “Yes, Matilda Bernard is supposed to be here already.” She glances around the sea of people. “Let me find her and send her back to you.”
“Mr. Vaughn, such a pleasure.” I turn around to see Mr. Fein scurrying toward me, a huge grin on his cherubic face. This guy is nice but damn, is he annoying.
“Rick, good to see you.”
“I can’t thank you enough for your generous offer to auction off a long weekend on your private yacht. It’s going to be such a treat for whoever wins that bid.”
“It’s the least I could do.” I look up to see Daphne hurrying back over to me.
“Mr. Fein, we have an issue. Matilda Bernard apparently came down with the flu so we don’t have anyone to run the main booth with Mr. Vaughn.”
“Oh dear.” He clutches his chest and looks over at me, then back at Daphne as if someone is about to die. “Well, why don’t you do it?”
“Oh no,” she says emphatically. “I’m supposed to be handling the bids for the silent auction.”
“Nonsense. I’ll handle that. You stay back here with Mr. Vaughn.” He waves at someone in the crowd. “Excuse me,” he says before walking away.
“Guess it’s just me and you, kid.” She looks over her shoulder at me with a scowl. “Relax, I promise not to irk you too much.” I wink at her, knowing it’ll probably annoy her all the more.
“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend to be nice just to annoy me.”
We spend the next half hour logging and organizing the baked goods. I write down who brought in what and she places them on the table with a little price sign.
“Now what?” I ask as the crowd dies down and people mill about.
“We wait for people to pay us. They’ll select their baked goods and we take the cash.”
“What was with your pissy comment in my office the other day?”
“Don’t play dumb, Mr. Vaughn. It doesn’t suit you.” She smiles as she takes cash from a woman and places it in the box.
“Thank you, these look delicious,” the woman says, holding up the tray she’s just purchased.
“Can’t go wrong with lemon bars,” Daphne says before taking a drop-off from someone else.
“I’m serious.” I take the tray of cookies she hands me.
“You should really be mindful of what you say in front of children. Your daughter asked me what pissy meant when she was at my apartment and when I told her it was a bad word, she told me that’s what daddy called you.”
I almost burst out laughing but I stifle it, completely forgetting that I had said that in front of her. “Well, if the shoe fits.”
“It doesn’t,” she says defensively. “I’m not normally pissy. I’m actually a very pleasant and fun loving person. You just bring out the worst in me.”
“I won’t argue with that. It’s probably true.” She stops what she’s doing and looks over at me, probably surprised I just agreed with her.
“Thank you for doing this by the way,” she says, her tone suddenly softening.
“Did I really have a choice? You came into my office pretty hot.”
“I guess I did, huh?” She laughs and it’s sweet. I think it’s the first time I’ve heard her genuinely laugh. “I was frustrated.”
“I understand the feeling.” Although I’m sure my frustration is completely different than hers.
“Oh, can you?” she asks, nodding toward the booth door that is just a large curtain. I reach around her, my chest brushing softly against her back. She turns her head to look back for a second and her hair tickles my nose. She smells sweet and sugary like one of these desserts, vanilla with a hint of cinnamon. My mouth waters, imagining running my tongue up her exposed neck.
I watch her cross the room, placing the baked goods down and arranging them when a man approaches her. They’re far enough away and, mixed with the other conversations happening around, I can’t make out what they’re saying but she starts to laugh. She reaches her hand out, playfully smacking his arm.
“I doubt he’s that funny,” I mutter as she almost doubles over. The guy looks like a douche, your typical blond, overmuscled gym bro who thinks it makes him look bigger to wear a shirt and pants that are two sizes too small. When he walks away, I notice his sockless ankles showing with his deck shoes.
“Hi,” someone interrupts my staring and I turn to see a woman with a young boy at her side. “I have some baked goods,” she says, thrusting some clearly store-bought cupcakes at me.
“Your name?”
“Xana, hey!” Daphne jogs back over to the booth, waving at the woman standing in front of me. They embrace when she approaches. “I was wondering if you were going to make it.”
“Yeah, sorry. I had to go pick up my nephew first. Is the kids’ fair in the gymnasium like last year?”
“Yes, he can head in there if he wants. Miss Pettigrew and a few other parents are watching in shifts. You ready to go have some fun, Peter?” she leans down, asking the young boy who nods his head. “Okay, you know where to go.”
“Mr. Vaughn, this is my best friend Xana. Her nephew is two years older than Daisy and goes here.”
“Pleasure.” I nod. “Did his parents get out of volunteering?”
Daphne flashes me a look. “They didn’t get out of it. They’re traveling internationally for a family funeral back in Spain. Normally, they would be here as well.”
Xana eyes me with a strange grin on her face before turning to Daphne. “You want to talk over here for a second?” She motions for her to follow her around the corner.
“I’ll be right back,” Daphne says to me as she links arms with her friend and walks out of sight.
I pull my phone out of my pocket, reading over a few emails when I hear Daphne giggle. The crowd of people that were talking walk away so I can hear the tail end of their muffled conversation. “Yeah, I’d say he’s one hundred percent the decadent, ooey, gooey double fudge sundae but honestly he’s kind of a total a—” A group of kids scream so I miss the last part of what she’s saying. I lean against the curtain, trying to hear the rest of the conversation but a second later she opens the side of the booth and pops back in.
“Gossip hour over?” I don’t bother looking up from my phone, hoping she didn’t notice me sitting back quickly. She ignores me, humming a little tune to herself as she looks over the list on the booth. “Who is Mr. Double Fudge Sundae?”
Fuck, I meant to keep that to myself.
“What?” She turns her head to look over at me.
“You heard me,” I say, doubling down on the question.
Might as well make a complete ass of myself.
“Were you eavesdropping, Mr. Vaughn?”
“I didn’t have to. You two were laughing like schoolgirls. I’m sure everyone heard it. Answer the question.”
“Just a guy I know. Why do you care?”
“Let me guess, deck shoes?”
Jesus, where is this jealousy bullshit coming from?
“Are we speaking in code here? I’m confused.”
“Nothing,” I mutter, turning my attention back to my phone.
“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes, messing around with a stack of boxes and empty containers behind us.
I lean back in the chair, watching as she bends over to tug on something, her shirt pulling up to reveal a small sliver of her porcelain skin. I run my hand over my jaw. The pants she’s wearing are tighter than anything I’ve seen her in previously. I take more than a moment to appreciate the perky, round shape of her ass.
I wonder what kind of panties Miss Flowers wears. A thong or G-string perhaps? Not a chance. She’s much too uptight for that. Probably cheeky or boy shorts.This woman not only infuriates me, but she also drives me mad with lust, making me want to defile her in her present position with a handful of her hair as leverage.
“Do you need help with that?” I stand up, focusing my attention away from her ass before I completely lose control. I walk up behind her as she messes with a box she’s struggling to reach.
“I think it’s stuck,” she groans as she tugs on one of the flaps. She tugs again but this time she loses her grip, stumbling backward just as I’m about to reach her. She crashes into me, throwing me off-balance. I wrap my arm around her as we both fall backward onto the floor, pulling her right onto my lap. Her arm hits the chair I was sitting on hard, a loud smack echoing through the booth.
“Shit, are you okay?” I ask, my hand resting flat against her stomach, her breath rapid. She doesn’t respond, her other hand gripping my forearm. “Daphne,” I say, bringing my hand from where it rests against her to her chin. I turn it so that she’s looking back at me. “Are you okay?”
She nods her head gently as I let my hand drift down slowly. I feel her throat constrict against the back of my fingertips as she swallows. Something is exchanged between us in a split second. Like all the pent-up frustration and miscommunication is channeling into tension so thick it’s like an… ooey, gooey fudge sundae.
I reach around and grab her arm that she’s cradling in her lap. I pick it up, turning it over to make sure she isn’t bleeding. “I don’t think you broke it,” I say, squeezing her wrist a little. “Does that hurt?”
“No.”
“How about here?” I drag my thumb over her palm and she shakes her head. “Your fingers okay?” I ask against her cheek as she turns again to look toward me. She doesn’t respond and I let my fingers intertwine with hers far longer than necessary. All I’d need to do right now is lean forward two inches, pressing my lips against hers. I can’t take my eyes off her lips but when I finally do and I look in her eyes, I know I’m in trouble.
I recognize the look on her face, pure unbridled desire. Her cheeks are flushed, pupils dilated, lips parted. Miss Flowers is turned on and that thought shoots straight to my cock.
Is this why she can’t stand me, because she’s attracted to me? Fuck me, this is about to turn into a situation.
My hand drifts back up to her stomach, my other hand on her waist as neither of us says anything. I know it’s only seconds ticking by but it feels like time is standing still.
“My shoe fell off,” she says finally, leaning forward to reach for it as I grip her waist.
I bite my tongue so hard, stifling a groan as her ass presses harder against me. She places her hand on my thigh, lifting her leg to put the shoe back on, but she drops it, bending forward again to grab it.
“Sorry, just trying to put this on so I can stand up.”
“Please stop moving.” My words come out strangled.
She shifts again, half turning her body to look back at me, causing more friction against my cock that is now about to make its presence very known. “Oh, sorry, am I hurt?—”
“No, fuck no, it doesn’t hurt.” I blurt the words out as my eyes flutter closed. I grip her waist so tight, pressing her down harder against me. I’m half-embarrassed I’m having this visceral of a reaction to her sitting on my lap and half wanting to slide her panties to the side and beg her to let me fuck her. I lift her off me, practically tossing her to the side as I turn away from her. I’m panting, hands on my hips as I look up to the ceiling of the booth, praying nobody approaches.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.
“Are you okay?” she asks, confused as she steps up next to me. “Oh, ohhhh,” she gasps, clamping her hand over her mouth as she looks down at my very obvious erection.
“Don’t look so surprised, it’s a natural reaction.”
“I just, I didn’t realize.” She giggles.
“What did you think was going to happen, sweetheart? You’re a beautiful woman who was just grinding her tight little ass onto my cock.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—beautiful?” Her face grows red at my blunt words and her smile disappears as she repeats the word back to me as if she’s actually stunned I said it.
“Don’t be sorry.” I let out a long breath as my tension slowly releases. “I know you didn’t mean to. I’m the one who held you in place for far too long.” I look over at her, both of us staring at each other. I tell myself not to reiterate the sentiment, but I do anyway. “Come on now, Daphne, you know you’re beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she half whispers.
I open my mouth to take it a step further and ask her if she’s wet, but she speaks before I can.
“I’m sure your mystery blonde can help with that.” She nods toward my crotch.
“Huh?”
“The one you were spotted with the night you had your ‘very important dinner’ while I babysat your daughter.”
I’m thoroughly confused now and the moment is gone. “Is this some passive-aggressive bullshit I didn’t get the memo on because I don’t know what you’re referring to.”
“Nothing.” She shrugs, turning back to the sheet on the booth ledge like she’s checking something.
“No, it’s clearly something. Say whatever it is you want to say.”
“It’s stupid. I was just being petty. I saw a tabloid article thing that night that was a picture you and what the headlines referred to as a ‘mystery blonde’ getting into the same car.”
“Oh, that was Natalie. She’s not a mystery.” I laugh. “She’s the head of acquisitions for the company I’m trying to buy, the company I was meeting with for dinner. There were half a dozen of us there.”
“You two shared a car?”
Is she jealous?
“We did. She lives about a block from me so my driver dropped her off before he brought me back to your place.” I take a step closer to her, reaching out to pull her chin over so that she’s looking at me. “It wasn’t a date if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I’m not asking.”
“Why were you looking at headlines about me?”
“I wasn’t. I just happened to stumble across it on the Daily Mail or something.”
“You know you can ask if you have questions about me.”
“I don’t have questions about you.” Her eyes are big and round as she looks up at me.
“You sure about that?” I glance past her quickly to make sure we’re alone before reaching my thumb up and brushing it across her bottom lip. I lean in a bit further, only a few centimeters between us. This woman drives me crazy. She’s so oblivious to how sexy she is, how fucking bad I want to bend her over right now and leave her dripping with my cum.
“D—do you have questions about me?” she asks barely above a whisper.
“Mm-hmm.” I move my hand from her chin to rest above her head. “But I shouldn’t ask them.”
“Why not?” Her hands are pressed against the pillar of the booth behind her.
“Because,” I say softly as I lean in, placing my lips at her ear, “I’m trying to remain a gentleman.”
“Last call to place your bids for the silent auction!” A loud voice interrupts me and I step back as they round the corner.
“You okay by yourself for a moment? I need to take care of something really quick and get Daisy out to the car.”
“Yeah.” She keeps her gaze down away from me and I wonder if I may have scared her. I make my way through the building to the silent auction, placing a bid on my own yacht before returning to the booth.
“They’re about to call the winners,” I say, motioning toward the other room.
“Oh, okay.” She steps out of the booth and we start walking toward the other room, my hand settling against her low back.
“And the winners are… drum roll, please!” Mr. Fein cheerfully shouts into the microphone as everyone claps. He starts running through the winners one by one until he finally gets to my yacht.
“And the grand prize tonight that I think we all bid on is an exclusive weekend on Mr. Weston Vaughn’s luxurious, custom built private yacht! Can we get a round of applause for Mr. Vaughn, ladies and gentlemen!” He points toward me and the room erupts into cheers as they stare at me. I smile and offer a wave, Daphne stepping away from me so fast like she saw a spider.
“The winner is”—Mr. Fein opens the envelope—“our very own Daphne Flowers!” The room once again cheers.
“What?” She looks genuinely terrified. “I didn’t bid—I can’t afford that.” She looks up at me, then back to the room of people clapping for her.
“Just smile and wave,” I say as I clap next to her.
“No, seriously, I didn’t bid on it. There’s been a mistake.” She looks around, then up at me as I smile at her. “You did this?”
“I might have.” I shrug.
“Why? I can’t pay for it. Are you crazy?”
I wait till everyone’s attention is back on themselves before gently clasping her arm and ushering her out into the lobby of the school.
“Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t expecting you to actually pay for it. I placed the bid in your name because I couldn’t bet on my own yacht.”
“Why even offer it then?”
“Because you demanded I do it. I did what you said. I just put my own twist on it, so to speak. The school will still get the money and I’ll get a weekend on my yacht… with you.” I add on that bit quickly. I hadn’t planned on it; it was most definitely a spur of the moment decision I just made before walking across the building and placing the bet. Feeling her body against mine, feeling the burn of jealousy in my chest when she was flirty with deck shoes or Mr. Fudge Fucking Sundae whatever the hell his name is, I knew I had to do something.
“With me?” she almost shouts.
“Yeah, that’s my part of the deal. I guess I forgot to mention it before when you were in my office making your demands. Labor Day weekend you’ll already have the time off work and I need some help with Daisy since my nanny up and quit on me. Did I mention that Roxy quit? Yeah, got sick of me running late apparently.”
“So that’s it? I don’t get a say in this? I’m now just your built-in babysitter when you need it and you get to make decisions for me? Tough shit, Mr. Vaughn.” Her head shifts to one side a little as she settles back on her foot. “You can’t just tell me what to do.”
My smile fades as I step toward her, her squared shoulders wilting a bit as I tower over her. “Isn’t that exactly what you did to me when you marched into my office?”
“That—it’s different. It’s to benefit your daughter and the school. This is—” Her words trail off.
“This is what, Daphne?” I know I’m goading her. I can see the little vein on her temple growing more prominent.
“Bullshit. It’s bullshit!”
I click my tongue at her. “Now, what kind of language is that in a school? That mouth of yours really might get you in trouble someday.”
“I don’t have time for this, Mr. Vaughn. I’m not going on your little trip. End of story. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to help clean up.” She moves to step around me, but I step in the same direction, cutting her off.
“Are you really telling me you don’t want an all-expenses-paid vacation in the Bahamas on a private luxury yacht where you only have to help out with my daughter now and then when my parents need a break or I’m busy? What else could you possibly be doing that weekend that is better than that? Painting by numbers in your fuzzy socks? Come on, you know I pay very well.”
Her mouth snaps shut as she realizes what I’m offering her. She’s thinking about it, considering it. Her eyes drift away, then quickly dart back to me. “Absolutely not. I don’t even know you or your family. How uncomfortable would that be for me? Did you consider that? Besides, it’s completely inappropriate and I’m sure if the school found out, they wouldn’t approve.”
“Do you always follow the rules?”
“Yes, and you should as well.” Her full teacher facade is back in place, and it makes me chuckle. It makes me wonder what it would take to get her to relax, to let her hair down a little bit if she were outside these walls. She looks boldly at me again. “I’m not going. I’m serious. And by the way, I like painting in my fuzzy socks.”
“Noted, Miss Flowers. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my driver is waiting on me with my daughter. My two-hour duty here is more than up. I had fun tonight.”
“Pleasure was all mine.” She gives me a forced smile, her attitude still shining through, and it makes me laugh as I walk toward the doors of the building.
“Oh, I highly doubt that, Daphne. Pretty sure I had all the pleasure tonight.”