Chapter 16 Harrison
Harrison adjusted his position on the heavy leather sofa in his office, shifting his weight so that Kelsey was tucked firmly against his side.
The frantic, jagged sobs that had wracked her small frame only minutes ago had finally tapered off into soft, hitching breaths.
He could feel the heat radiating from her skin—a lingering physical reminder of the lesson he’d just delivered right here in his sanctuary.
The morning sun was still climbing, struggling to penetrate the heavy navy velvet curtains, casting a dim, amber glow across the dark carpet.
Her head was heavy against his shoulder, her blonde hair fanned out across his chest in a messy, golden silk tangle.
He kept his hand moving in a slow, rhythmic circle against her back, his palm large enough to cover nearly the entire width of her spine.
It was a grounding touch, intended to let her know that while the discipline had been real, the security of his arms was just as permanent.
As the adrenaline from her defiance and the subsequent spanking began to drain away, he felt her body go wonderfully limp.
A tiny, delicate yawn escaped her, her mouth stretching wide before she pressed her face deeper into the crook of his neck.
"Tired, sweetheart?" Harrison asked, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated against her temple.
"Mmm," she hummed, the sound small and exhausted. She blinked slowly, her lashes still clumped together from tears, looking at the shadows of the office with glazed eyes. "Just... a little."
"I think you’re a bit more than just 'a little' worn out.
That was a lot of big emotions for one morning," he murmured, his voice softening.
He shifted his weight, nudging her with a gentle, guided pressure until she was lying back against the leather cushions.
"I want you to close those eyes and take a nap right here while I finish up at my desk. "
Kelsey’s eyes fluttered open a bit wider, a spark of that earlier spirit trying to flicker back to life. "I don't need a nap, Daddy. I'm okay. I want to stay up with you."
Harrison didn't argue. He didn't have to.
He simply went still and fixed her with a look—a calm, leveled gaze that held all the authority of the man who had just put her over his knee.
It wasn't an angry look, but it was absolute.
It reminded her exactly who was in charge of her well-being, especially in this room.
The protest died in her throat. Kelsey looked down at her lap, her cheeks flushing a soft pink.
The weight of her exhaustion seemed to double the moment she stopped fighting it.
The sting on her bottom was a dull, pulsing heat now, and the thought of closing her eyes suddenly felt like the most luxurious thing in the world.
"Yes, Daddy," she whispered, her voice thick with lingering sleepiness.
"Good girl." Harrison reached over the side of the sofa, pulling a thick, cream-colored knit blanket from the wicker basket tucked against the end table.
He shook it out and draped it over her, tucking the edges around her shoulders and feet until she was a cozy cocoon of wool.
He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, his lips warm against her skin.
"You don't have to sleep if you aren't ready, but I want you to stay right here and rest your body until I'm done. Understand?"
Kelsey nodded against the leather, her eyes already drifting shut as the comfort of the blanket settled over her. "I understand."
Harrison watched her for a moment longer, ensuring she was settled, before he stood and walked back to his massive ebony desk.
He sat down at his desk, the large monitors humming to life.
He felt a profound sense of satisfaction settling in his chest—a warm-hearted, protective glow.
That first spanking had been a hurdle they needed to clear.
He’d drawn a line in the sand this morning, and he’d done it with a hand that was firm but never cruel.
He knew she felt more secure now; he could see it in the way she’d melted into him afterward.
Consistency was the key. He would keep that line drawn, and he would keep her safe within it.
He began diving back into the logistics of Oasis.
Running a club of that caliber was a never-ending puzzle of human variables.
He spent the next forty minutes cross-referencing the security schedule with the VIP guest list for the weekend, ensuring he had his most experienced floor managers on duty for a high-profile bachelor party expected on Saturday.
He moved on to liquor orders, adjusting the premium gin and bourbon counts based on last week’s inventory burn.
The clinical, rhythmic clicking of his mechanical keyboard was the only sound in the office.
The silence of the room was punctuated only by that soft clicking—until the sound changed.
He paused, tilting his head. From the sofa, the sound of Kelsey’s steady breathing had shifted.
He heard a tiny, soft hitch, followed by a series of shallow, adorable snores.
He turned in his chair, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
She was out cold, her face half-buried in the knit blanket, looking perfect and entirely at peace.
His phone vibrated on the desk, the screen lighting up with a text from Barrett.
Barrett: Hey man. Savannah is freaking out a bit. Kelsey hasn't answered her texts in three hours. She’s worried. Everything good over there?
Harrison leaned back, his eyes still on the sleeping girl across the room. He typed back a response, keeping the details close to the vest but the meaning clear.
Harrison: She’s safe and sound. We had a bit of an eventful morning. She’s sleeping it off on my sofa right now. Tell Savannah I’ll have her text her when she wakes up.
Barrett: Copy that. An eventful morning, huh?
Harrison: She needed a firm reminder of who’s looking out for her. She took it well. She’s resting now.
Barrett: Savannah was the same way early on—constantly testing the fences just to make sure they were still there. Sounds like you’ve got things handled. We’ll see you guys later.
Harrison: Count on it.
He set the phone down, feeling a kinship with Barrett that went beyond business. They were both men who understood that some women needed a specific kind of anchor.
Seeing that she was likely to be out for a while, Harrison decided it was time to prep lunch. He saved his work and headed into the kitchen, his movements quiet and deliberate. He liked being in the kitchen; there was something therapeutic about the order of it.
He pulled out a loaf of fresh sourdough and some high-quality turkey breast. As he worked, his instincts took the lead.
He didn't just slap a sandwich together.
He spread a thin, even layer of mayo, added a leaf of crisp butter lettuce, and sliced the meat thin.
When it came time to cut it, he didn't go for a standard half-cut. He carefully trimmed the crusts—knowing she’d likely pick at them anyway—and sliced the sandwich into four perfect triangles.
He moved to the pantry, selecting a bag of kettle-cooked honey barbecue chips.
They were sweet and crunchy, exactly the kind of treat a little girl would enjoy.
He placed a neat pile of them on a small floral-patterned plate, then added a handful of chilled carrot sticks he’d pulled from the crisper drawer.
Finally, he poured a glass of organic apple juice, the golden liquid catching the light.
He was just setting the glass down on the placemat when he heard it—the soft, rhythmic pat-pat-pat of small, bare feet on the hardwood.
Harrison looked up as Kelsey appeared in the kitchen archway, looking soft and dazed from the heavy sleep.
Her blonde hair was a chaotic silk nest of tangles, and her eyes remained heavy, slightly puffy and half-lidded from the depth of her nap.
She paused there, looking uncharacteristically shy as she stood in the oversized shirt, her fingers restlessly twisting the hem of the fabric.
"Hi there, sleepyhead," Harrison said, his voice softening into a warm, inviting tone.
Kelsey offered him a tiny, bashful smile, her cheeks still holding a faint rosy glow from her nap. "Hi."
"I just finished making us some lunch," he said, gesturing to the table where her plate of triangles and chips sat waiting. "But before you sit down, I want you to go potty and wash those hands. Then you can come eat."
Kelsey’s blush deepened at the "potty" comment, her shoulders hitching up slightly in embarrassment.
It was a clear directive, the kind a parent gave a toddler, but Harrison could see the way her eyes sparked with a mix of shyness and secret delight.
She liked being directed. She liked that he cared about the small, mundane details.
"Okay," she whispered, scurrying away toward the hallway bathroom.
A few minutes later, she returned, her hands smelling of lemon soap. She slid into her seat at the table, her eyes widening as she took in the plate. She traced the edge of one of the crustless triangles with her fingertip, her smile growing.
"You cut the crust off," she noted softly, looking up at him with pure affection.
"I had a hunch you might like them better that way," Harrison said, sitting down across from her with his own, more robust version of the sandwich. "Eat up, sweetheart. You need the energy."
They ate in a comfortable, domestic silence for a few minutes. Kelsey crunched on her chips happily, swinging her feet under the chair.
"So," Harrison said, breaking the quiet. "How are the carrots?"
Kelsey made a face, looking down at the orange sticks like they were an ancient enemy. "They're... orange."
"They're healthy," Harrison corrected with a playful glint in his eye. "And they're on your plate for a reason. I want to see those disappear."