Chapter 7
Last night was torture in more ways than one. Everyone was so excited for me. Several people I’d barely spoken to even pulled me aside to congratulate me for finally putting myself out there. They told me they’d been worried about me and my one-track mind toward my career ever since Heidi—the only girlfriend I’d ever had—and I’d split over ten years ago. They’d wondered if I’d ever get over her enough to move on.
Jesus. I hadn’t realized anyone still remembered that—much less ten years later—but I shouldn’t have been surprised. Everyone in this town remembers everything.
The last thing I want is for people to feel sorry for me. Of course I’ve moved on. And as much as I wish I could erase it from everyone’s memory as well as my own, that experience is what made me into the high-performer man that I am today.
Sure, it felt like a nightmare at the time, but I was barely twenty-five—my frontal lobe wasn’t even completely developed. I was operating under the delusion that someone like me could have it all. No one gets to have it all, especially not a man with my tastes. It’s not fair to anyone. That’s why I can’t go there again—there’s too much at stake.
Everything changed that day she ended it … and the timing couldn’t have been worse. Her parting words still haunt me.
“Of course I cheated, Leo. I had to get attention from somewhere, and you were certainly never around. Did you really expect me to sit around all day and wait on you? You’re such a perv. I never wanted to play into your disgusting fantasies. It made me sick every time I had to call you Daddy …”
The memory slaps me across the face, and I scrub my hand over my jaw as if I can wipe the sting away. She didn’t even wait for me to fully put my coat down before she unleashed those words, piling shame on top of the hate I’d already felt for myself.
It was the worst day of my life. I was so broken. I didn’t feel the impact of those words at first, but years later, anytime I started to feel lonely or wonder if there was a way I could have both, they’d come flying back to snap me back into reality.
Honestly, I should thank her. If she hadn’t destroyed me that day, then it would’ve been me ending things and pushing her away, blaming her for distracting me. At least I don’t have to carry the guilt of that on top of everything else. It’s a small consolation, but a man can only hold space for so much regret without it tearing him up inside.
I was able to channel all my pain and regret into a bigger purpose—committing myself to not only striving for excellence and growth for my family’s company, but also to keeping people safe. It’s all I have now, and I’m thankful for the reminders, no matter how painful they might be.
Which is why this thing between Ivy and me can’t go any further. I’ve seen what happens on the other side of this, and it ends with everyone getting hurt.
It’s already enough that my family’s already so attached to her. My too-young-for-me fiancée, who is quite possibly the biggest handful I’ve ever met and on paper is the last person I’d choose to ask for help. And yet she was incredible last night—despite going overboard with some of the details of our relationship and how we’d met. She was charming and fun—all the things I am not—and I could see they all believed it.
I don’t even want to think about how much this is going to break my mother’s heart after it’s all said and done. That’s another layer of guilt to add to the weight I already carry on my back and a problem for another day.
Right now, I need to make it through this one.
Honestly, I should be thanking her for her convincing performance, but doing that would only encourage her, and that’s not something anyone is ready for, especially not me.
She’s got this innate ability to push me right to the edge of frustration. For fuck’s sake, I’ve never met someone who could both identify and push my buttons within seconds of meeting me. It’s intriguing and terrifying, the way she’s already seemed to burrow herself into my mind, as if she’s carving out her own little nook to settle into just to torment me anytime she likes.
Images of Ivy dancing, those pretty, pouty lips doing unspeakable things … the way her shapely thighs are little bit fuller at the top and kiss each other, practically begging to be touched … it’s not a detail I should be privy to, and yet thanks to that fucking microscopic excuse for a dress, I am unable to forget. I splash cold water over my face as I stare at my exhausted-looking reflection, urging the images out of my mind.
I feel like such a perverted bastard, but my cock seems to have a mind of its own.
It’s bad enough I have to live with her—way to jump the gun with that idea, Leo—but it seems she’s infiltrated my dreams as well.
I had to jerk off before I went to sleep and again this morning just to get this raging hard-on under control. I don’t think I was prepared for how devastatingly gorgeous this woman was. Thankfully, her loud, energetic personality is there to offset it; otherwise, I’d be so screwed right now.
I’m making my way into the kitchen for my first cup of coffee when I find her bent over, digging in the fridge, and of course, she’s wearing only an oversize T-shirt. I stop dead in my tracks before tearing my gaze away and making a beeline straight to the coffee maker.
But it’s too late. The damage is done.
As if I needed any more fuel for my too-old-for-her, perverted guilty conscience, now, I’ll have the image of her perfect, round ass burned into my memory for years to come.
Fucking fantastic.
“Oh, hey, you’re up early,” she says as she closes the refrigerator with her hip, arms full of ingredients.
“I could say the same thing about you. Do you have something against pants?” I wait for the espresso machine to stop sputtering for what feels like hours.
She looks down at her shapely legs. “I don’t like to be restricted when I sleep. I find that wearing pants limits my range of motion. Besides, these are boy shorts; they’re practically shorts themselves.” She moves to the stove as she starts stirring ingredients in a large bowl. “I’m making pancakes. Do you want any?”
Looks like she’s made herself at home.
I sip my espresso, savoring the strong, bitter flavor. I’m not much of a morning person despite my rigorous work schedule, and even I can admit that I’m grumpy before I’ve had my coffee. “No thank you. I’m not big on breakfast. Clean up your mess when you’re finished, please.”
“Didn’t Dr. Stone tell you not to have coffee on an empty stomach?”
She holds up the wooden spoon, and a dollop of pancake batter drips off onto the floor. My gaze locks on the mess, and my eye begins to twitch.
“I have very few vices in life, and my morning espresso is one of them. Why don’t you just worry about yourself, and I’ll worry about me? My health really isn’t your concern.”
I turn to leave, but she grabs my arm to stop me.
“You asked me to help you, remember?” She swipes the coffee cup from my hand and replaces it with something else.
“Hey, what are you—” I sniff the hot liquid and glare daggers at her. “Is this hot lemon water?”
“Drink the lemon water, take your medicine, eat something, and then you can have your coffee. That’s the way things are going to go until your ulcer heals.”
She spins around and grabs a long blue rectangle off the counter beside my medicine and shoves it at me.
“I separated your meds for you for the entire week, Grandpa. Now, take your pills and shut up, or tomorrow, you’ll find me in here, topless. Understand?”
I grit my teeth and take the pill container from her, feeling much like the grandpa she loves to compare me to—but at least she didn’t call me daddy again. I hate to admit she’s right; Dr. Stone did say drinking coffee on an empty stomach was among one of the worst things I could do to heal. I swallow down my pills, but I don’t argue as she shoves a plate of pancakes toward me. She used bananas and blueberries to make a frowny face.
She slides onto the barstool next to me with her own plate, and I notice her pancake is happy.
“Hey, why’d you give me the sad one? And why does yours have chocolate chips?”
“Because I don’t walk around scowling at everyone I come in contact with and you only had enough chocolate chips for one.”
She shrugs and shoves a bite in her mouth. It’s too big, and syrup drips down her chin. My dick twitches, and I have the strangest urge to lick the syrup away. I turn to my own plate and begin cutting my pancakes.
“You should cut your food in smaller pieces so you don’t make a mess.”
“I cut them fine.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her tear a piece with her fingers and pop it in her mouth.
“Now, your fingers are sticky. Use your utensils like a civilized human.”
To that, she picks up the largest pancake with two fingers and dangles it over her face, taking a bite from the very bottom.
“Now, you’re just being a brat?—”
I watch her nibble the pancake in horrified annoyance as syrup drips on the counter and down her cheek until it tears apart, landing straight in her lap.
“Dammit, Ivy. You’ve got syrup all over yourself!” I jump up to grab a wet towel and find her wearing a conniving grin.
“Oops. I’m all sticky.” She licks syrup from her thumb without breaking eye contact, and my brain short-circuits.
“I hope you know you’re cleaning this up.” It’s the only thing I can think to say as I hand her the wet towel.
“Yes, Daddy.”
I don’t like the way my pulse ticks up or the way my face gets hot, and I certainly don’t like how hard my cock gets when she calls me that. I know she’s just trying to get a rise out of me. If only I could’ve done a better job of concealing my emotions last night.
I blame that fucking dress. No man in his right mind would be able to think clearly around that.
Not that the thin white T-shirt she’s wearing right now is any better. I should win a gold medal for the restraint I’ve shown by not looking at her nipples or the wedgie she’s had all morning, revealing half of her round, plump ass cheeks.
This little act of defiance has gone too far, and if she’s not careful, she’s going to bring out a side of me that I haven’t seen in a very long time. A side of me that I put away a long time ago because I don’t think it’s possible to satisfy both versions of myself.
I move toward her, bracketing her between my hands until her back is flush with the cold quartz countertop.
She smells like syrup, and my mouth waters for a taste.
“Listen, you little brat. I told you to stop calling me that. I don’t like it,” I growl in a low whisper.
She sucks in a small breath, and I can see her hard nipples poking through her shirt, like they’re begging for attention. Everything about this woman commands attention; I don’t know why her tits would be any different.
“Are you sure you don’t like it? Because it kind of seems like you do …” She moves her eyes down toward my raging hard-on that’s straining through my gray sweatpants.
“I see what you’re doing, and I don’t know what kind of game you’re getting at, but just because my dick’s hard doesn’t mean anything. So, you can stop with the teasing and walking around half naked. You’re not going to win here. I’ve gone a long time without giving in to my urges, and I’ll be damned if I break now?—”
“A long time, huh?” She bites her lip and grins, making her nose scrunch up like she just learned some big secret. “I had a feeling that was the problem.”
I shake my head, but I don’t back away as I glare down at her cute fucking freckled nose. “You’re way off there, so stop pushing me or else …”
She trails her hands up my jaw, then rubs her thumb over my lips, and I have to fight the urge to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head from the intimate contact. Talk about touch-starved. How sad is it that she’s got my dick ready to explode from a mere brush from her fingers? I am utterly pathetic and starting to realize how much trouble I’ve caused for myself. I don’t think there’s anything I can do to put Ivy back in Pandora’s box now …
“Or else … what?”
I suck in a slow breath. “Trust me, you wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
I bite her finger, and she yelps. Then, I gently suck the syrup from it, never taking my eyes off her.
Her eyes widen, and I don’t have to read her mind to know that I’ve just created the most exciting game of cat and mouse … only I don’t know which one I am in this scenario.
“I think you’d be surprised about how much of you I can handle.” She flashes me a mischievous grin as she looks down at my aching cock, then shoves my chest away. “Remember, no coffee until after you’ve eaten your breakfast.” She stands from the stool and heads toward the hallway, never bothering to fix that goddamn wedgie. “Excuse me while I clean myself up. I’m all sticky now.”
I should be ashamed of myself, watching her cute little ass sway until she disappears down the hall, but I can’t look away. I guess I really am a glutton for punishment.
By the time I’ve cleaned her breakfast mess and wiped all the syrup from the countertops and floor, my coffee’s ice cold. I could make myself a fresh cup but decide better of it. Maybe I’ll give my stomach a break … just for today.
My phone buzzes several times on the counter, and I don’t even have to look to know what it’s about.
Mom
Good morning, everyone! I’m hosting Sunday dinner tonight to celebrate Leo and Ivy’s engagement! I hope you can all make it. Six sharp!
Leo
Wait a minute. Shouldn’t you ask the person of honor if they’re available BEFORE you invite the whole family to celebrate? I can’t make it tonight. I’ve got too much work to catch up on before tomorrow.
Roman
Sounds good. See you then.
Dude, I think we all know you can carve two hours out of your busy schedule to celebrate.
Dad
There’s nothing more important than family time. Your mother’s excited, son.
Luka
Will this require my participation? Because I’m struggling to get all the eyeliner off from last night.
Guy
Try baby oil. Trust me, bro, it works like a charm.
Luka
How’d you figure that out?
Guy
Do you really want me to answer that on our family group chat???
Dad
That’s enough, Guy. We’re eating over here.
Guy
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Mom
Is Jett in the group? Jett, are you here?
Roman
Yeah, I added him back after he left last time.
Jett
Yes. I’m here… against my will… but here.
Mom
Oh, stop being dramatic. I expect you to be at dinner tonight. We’re celebrating, and you’re a part of this family whether you want to be or not.
Jett
I have work. Sorry.
Mom
Figure it out.
Jett
Mom, you won’t even notice I’m not there. Leo doesn’t even care.
Leo
I’d really like your support, Jett.
Mom
Aw! I love to see my boys getting along.
Jett
Bastard. I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not making any promises.
Roman
It’s Sunday. You normally close an hour early anyway because you’re so slow.
Jett
Thank you, Rome. That’s quite helpful.
Mom
I can’t wait to have all my boys together! We’ll take the group photo tonight since Jett will be there, so dress nice!
Jett
Fantastic. I can’t wait.
Leo
That makes two of us then.
Luka
I’m going back to sleep now.
I pocket my phone as I head upstairs to my office. Maybe I can squeeze in a couple of hours of work now that I know my evening is being hijacked by my family. When I turn the corner, I crash into Ivy. The smell of her shampoo disorients me—that and the fact that she’s covered by nothing but a small towel clasped around her breasts.
“Sorry.” I steady her, placing my hands on her still-damp arms and then quickly pull them away.
She gives me a sly smile. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“I’ve got some work to catch up on.” I nod in the direction of my office. “Listen, my mom’s planning a dinner for us tonight. To celebrate our engagement. It’s just family, I think. Do you think you can be ready to leave by five thirty?”
She pulls the towel off her head, letting her long, wet hair fall down her back, and begins dabbing the ends. “If that’s what you need me to do, then I’ll be ready.”
My mouth goes dry as I watch a small drop of water slide down her collarbone over her sun-kissed skin. I have to fight the urge to trace its path. What the fuck is wrong with me? She’s got my body responding like I’ve never been with a woman, and it’s fucking with me in more ways than one.
Get your shit together, man. She’s nearly the same age as your family cat, for fuck’s sake.
“That’d be great. It’s pretty casual, but she’ll probably want to take pictures, so maybe wear something nice. Do you have nice clothes or just overalls and cutoff jean shorts?” It’s a serious question, but it comes out a little sharper than I intended. Rather than get into a verbal battle, I just pull out my credit card and hand it to her. “Here, just get yourself some nice dresses and outfits to wear. There’s a boutique downtown that should have everything you need.”
“Well, since you’re so eager to take care of me, I could always use some new clothes …”
I pull the card back just before she grabs it. “Please don’t do anything to embarrass me. It’s a small town, and you’re bound to have eyes on you now that word about us is out.”
She pops a hip and narrows her eyes. “And how do you think I’d do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know … but I don’t think it’s bold to assume you can figure it out.”
Biting her lip to hold back a cheeky grin, she stands on her tiptoes and swipes the card from me. “Yes, Daddy.”
Fucking hell. I guess I walked right into that one, didn’t I?
Without another word, I head to my office and slam the door behind me, putting as much distance as possible between us. I’m not saying I can’t be trusted, but when she’s walking around, freshly showered and smelling like a fallen angel, in nothing more than a hand towel … a man can only expect so much self-control.
Ten minutes later, I check the security monitors and see her leaving, her little beat-up car driving down the driveway, and it’s only when I know I’m alone that I let out a deep exhale. I pull my aching cock from my sweatpants and begin stroking myself right there at my desk, thinking about all the things I wish I could do to my bratty fake fiancée.