Chapter 18 Wyatt
Wyatt watched the exact moment the light shifted in her wide, brown eyes, transitioning from the quiet awe of a girl looking at a beautiful space to the sheer, blinding terror of a cornered animal.
She froze so completely it was as if the blood had stopped moving in her veins.
Her jaw slackened, just a fraction, her chest hitching on a breath she couldn't quite seem to release.
He stayed right where he was, his massive shoulders leaning back against the door, deliberately blocking her only exit.
Not because he wanted to frighten her, but because he already knew the exact shape of the panic currently clawing at her throat.
He knew her instinct was to run. He had watched her do it before, watched the way she calculated escape routes whenever a situation became too intense, too real.
"I... I'm sorry?" Bitsy’s voice was barely a whisper, a reedy, trembling sound that shook the quiet of the warm room. She forced a small, brittle laugh that didn't even reach her cheeks. "I think I heard you wrong. For a second, it sounded like you said..."
"You heard me perfectly, sweetheart," Wyatt said, his voice dropping into that low, unyielding register that had nothing to do with Enigma and nothing to do with server grids or corporate infrastructure.
This was purely him. A man taking control of a girl who was currently spinning out of existence.
"This is your apartment. Lease is signed. It's yours."
"No." She shook her head quickly, her fingers instantly tightening around the leather strap of her small purse.
She took a step backward, away from him, her gaze darting frantically toward the floor-to-ceiling windows as if looking for another way out.
"No, Wyatt, I can't—you can't just do that.
I appreciate the hospitality, really, and the corporate housing offer is incredibly generous, but I already have a place to live.
My lease isn't up. I have an apartment."
Wyatt didn't move an inch. He kept his arms crossed over his massive chest, his dark eyes fixed entirely on her face, tracking the rapid pulse jumping in the hollow of her throat. "What's the address, Bitsy?"
The question hung in the warm air, heavy and absolute.
Bitsy stumbled over her words, her lips parting, but nothing came out.
Her cheeks, previously pale from the bitter winter wind outside, began to flush a deep, dark crimson.
"It's... it's over on the north side. Near the avenue.
It's just a small studio, but it's mine, and I have all my things there, so I really don't need—"
"Give me the street number," he interrupted softly, his tone completely level but carrying a mountain of weight. "Give me the cross street, Bitsy. Tell me where you slept last night."
She swallowed hard, her mouth opening to double down on the lie, but under the gravity of his gaze, the words seemed to dry up in her throat.
She looked down at her flats, her shoulders hunching inward as she tried to make herself as small as possible.
The red flush spread down her neck, coloring the skin above the collar of the cream blouse she’d tucked so neatly into her black slacks.
"Stop lying to me," Wyatt rumbled, the sound deep and steady, vibrating through the small space between them. "The lying ends today, little girl. Right now."
She flinched at the phrase, her head snapping up, her eyes bright with a sudden, desperate surge of defensiveness.
"I'm not—I'm an adult, Wyatt! I can manage my own life.
I don't need you to buy me a high-rise apartment, and I don't need you interrogating me like I've committed a crime. I have everything under control!"
"You don't have a damn thing under control," he said, finally stepping away from the door.
He moved into the room, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the polished hardwood floor as he closed the distance between them.
He didn't stop until he was standing just two feet away, towering over her, forcing her to tilt her chin up just to look him in the eye.
"You've been living out of the backseat of your car, Bitsy. In a Bridgeport freeze."
The truth landed between them like a physical blow. Bitsy gasped, her fight-or-flight reflex clicking into overdrive. Her eyes went completely wild, her chest heaving as she prepared to sprint, to push past him, to do whatever it took to get back to the safety of her freezing metal cage.
But Wyatt was faster. He reached out, his large, warm hands wrapping securely around her upper arms, anchoring her to the floor. He didn't hurt her, but his grip was pure steel, absorbing the frantic, sudden lurch of her body as she tried to pull away.
"Let go," she breathed, her voice cracking as the panic finally breached the wall. "Wyatt, please, let me go. I can't do this. I'll just—I'll leave. You can fire me. I know I screwed up, I know I shouldn't have lied, but please just let me go."
"I am not firing you, and I am damn sure not letting you go," he said, his voice dropping into a deep, parental rumble that filled her ears, intentionally grounding her. "Look at me, Bitsy. Look at your Daddy."
Bitsy swallowed hard, a tiny, choked sob escaping her lips at the word.
Her breath hitched, her wide eyes locking onto his as her chest heaved.
"M-my what?" she whispered, her voice cracking beneath the weight of the term.
The sheer intensity of it sent a shiver straight down her spine, a strange, overwhelming warmth instantly fighting the panic in her chest. "Wyatt, you can't... you're my boss. You can't just say things like that."
"I can, and I am," he rumbled softly, his grip remaining entirely steady, entirely unyielding. "Because that is exactly who I am to you, little girl. And right now, you need one."
Her resistance suddenly fractured. She stopped struggling against his hands, though her entire body continued to tremble like a leaf in a storm.
"You lied to me about where you were staying," Wyatt enumerated levelly, his eyes holding hers hostage.
"You lied to me about your coat, telling me you left it on an entryway hook that doesn't exist. You lied to me about it this morning, and you lied to me about it on Saturday too.
You tried to skip breakfast, and you tried to skip lunch to hide the fact that you're starving because you're too proud to ask for help.
And on top of all of that, you logged into my secure network layer on Sunday night after I gave you a direct, explicit order to rest. You deliberately disobeyed me before your first official day even started. "
Bitsy’s face was completely flushed now, a deep, blotchy red creeping up her neck as tears finally spilled over her thick lashes, tracking through her makeup and making her eyes look entirely too bright.
Her fingers had completely curled inward, her hands retreating entirely into the cuffs of the oversized wool coat.
It was a total regression, a visual surrender that he noted with a fierce, protective ache in his chest.
"I'm sorry," she wept, her forehead dropping forward until it pressed against the hard center of his chest. "I didn't want you to think I was a charity case.
I wanted to be professional. I needed the job so badly, and I thought if you knew...
if you knew I was sleeping in my car, you'd think I was unstable.
You'd think I couldn't handle the data load. I'm so sorry."
Wyatt let out a long, heavy sigh, his hands shifting from her arms to slide around her back, pulling her tucked, shivering form against his bulk. He held her tight, letting her cry into his shirt for a long moment, his large hand rubbing steady, firm circles between her shoulder blades.
"You are a genius, Bitsy," he told her softly, his lips brushing the top of her dark hair.
"Your mind is one of the most incredible things I've ever seen, and I want you at Enigma.
That was never a lie. But your life outside the office is a disaster right now because you refuse to let anyone take care of you. And that ends today."
She sniffled, her voice muffled against his tie. "I can't afford this place. I know what an ultra-modern building like this costs. There's no way I can sign for this.
"You aren't signing for anything, and you aren't paying a dime," Wyatt said, his tone shifting back to that stern, non-negotiable parental finality.
"The entire first year is completely taken care of.
Every utility, every fee. Your only job for the next twelve months is to work your hours, eat your meals, and put every single dollar of your sign-on bonus and your paychecks into a savings account so you never have to worry about a roof over your head again.
It is non-negotiable, Bitsy. If you want to keep your desk at Enigma, you sleep in this bed tonight. Do you understand me?"
She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her lower lip trembling violently.
She looked so small wrapped in the heavy wool coat, her hands completely hidden in the sleeves, her eyes red-rimmed and wide.
She was entirely in her little headspace now, the corporate analyst completely replaced by a frightened, overwhelmed little girl who just needed boundaries.
"Yes, sir," she whispered, her voice dropping into a tiny, regressed cadence.
"Good," Wyatt said. He didn't let go of her waist, keeping her anchored close to his hip.
He looked down at her face, his expression softening into something deeply loving, but entirely serious.
"Now, we need to talk about what happens next.
Because you and I are going to have a dynamic that goes entirely beyond the office, little girl.
I am a Daddy, Bitsy, and I want to be your Daddy.
But over the last forty-eight hours you have broken almost every rule I have. "