Chapter 20 Wyatt #2
"Good morning, little girl," Wyatt rumbled, stepping past her into the warm apartment. He closed the door behind him with a solid click, his presence instantly dominating the small foyer.
Bitsy walked over to the couch, sinking into the cushions as she reached for a pair of sleek, black high heels resting on the floor. Wyatt watched her slide her small feet into the narrow shoes, his dark brows drawing together in immediate disapproval.
"Those shoes are entirely impractical for the weather outside, Bitsy," he said, his voice dropping into a wintery, paternal register. "There is a layer of black ice on the executive lot. You are going to slip."
Bitsy looked up through her lashes, her cheeks tinged with a faint pink as she adjusted the strap. "I'll be okay, sir, I promise. I'll just walk really carefully."
Wyatt crossed his arms over his chest, his massive frame unmoving. "You will not 'just walk carefully.' You are going to hold onto me the entire time we are walking from the SUV to the building. Am I understood?"
The blush on her cheeks deepened, staining her neck a beautiful pink as she felt the weight of his absolute authority. She swallowed softly, her fingers clutching her purse. "Yes, sir."
“Good," he said, his tone softening into approval.
Bitsy stood up, smoothing down her blouse.
She reached for her small personal purse and then lifted a heavy, slightly tattered canvas duffle bag that was clearly bulging with the weight of her laptop and charging cables.
Wyatt’s eyes locked onto the cheap bag, a sharp mental note instantly logging itself into his brain.
Get her a proper, high-quality leather laptop bag today.
He wasn't going to have his little girl carrying her essential work equipment in something that looked like it belonged in a middle school locker.
Before she could shoulder the heavy duffle, Wyatt reached out and smoothly took it from her hand, ignoring her slight blink of surprise.
"I'll do the heavy lifting. And this is for you," he added, handing her the warm, foil-wrapped bundle.
"I made you a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit.
You can eat it on the drive or when we get to your desk. "
Bitsy’s eyes went wide, her fingers wrapping around the warm foil. A wave of genuine, overwhelmed gratitude washed over her features. "Thank you, sir. That... that smells amazing."
"You're welcome. Now get your coat on," he commanded gently.
He watched with a quiet sense of satisfaction as she retrieved the green coat they had bought last night.
She slid her arms into the sleeves, and Wyatt stepped in to help her pull it over her shoulders, his large hands smoothing the fabric down.
She pulled the cream knit beanie over her ears, the massive yarn pom-pom bouncing slightly, and tugged her matching gloves on.
Once she was fully bundled against the cold, Wyatt guided her out of the apartment and back to the elevator.
The ride down to the secure residential parking garage was quiet.
Wyatt opened the passenger door of his massive SUV, grabbing her by the waist just like he had the night before to help her effortlessly up into the high cabin.
He reached across her, placing her heavy laptop duffle securely on the floor of the backseat behind her, then closed the door with a heavy thud.
He walked around the front, sliding into the driver's seat and starting the engine.
As he pulled out into the morning traffic, his hand reached straight for the center console. He turned the dial, making sure her passenger seat warmer was turned on high.
Bitsy sat beside him, the foil-wrapped sandwich held tightly in both hands like a treasure. She looked over at him shyly. "I think I'm going to wait until we get to the office to eat it. I don't want to accidentally make a mess in your car, and I'd like to have a drink with it."
Wyatt glanced over at her, a low, amused rumble escaping his chest. "That is perfectly fine, little girl. I appreciate you looking out for my interior, but even if you made a mess, I would simply clean it up. How did you sleep last night? Truly."
Bitsy leaned back against the plush leather, a soft, incredibly relaxed sigh escaping her lips. "It was... amazing. Honestly, it's the best I've slept in years. The bed is so comfortable, and the apartment is just so quiet and safe. Thank you again. For everything."
Hearing her admit how safe she felt was the ultimate validation for Wyatt.
It proved that his methods, though intense, were exactly what she needed to heal.
"You don't need to keep thanking me, Bitsy.
Providing a safe place for you to rest is my job now.
Your only job is to be honest, take care of yourself, and let me be your Daddy. "
She nodded quietly, her fingers tracing the edges of the foil wrapper, her headspace comfortably warm and pliant as they navigated the icy downtown streets.
When they arrived at Enigma, Wyatt parked in his designated spot, killing the engine.
True to his word, he stepped out into the biting winter air, walked to the rear door to grab her laptop duffle first, and then opened her passenger door.
As she prepared to step down in her impractical heels, Wyatt’s large hands caught her securely under her arms, lifting her down onto the slick asphalt.
He didn't let go until her feet were planted, and he immediately tucked her arm firmly through his bicep, anchoring her against his side.
Bitsy held on tightly, her heels crunching carefully against the frozen pavement as they navigated the lot. The freezing wind whipped at their faces, making the heavy, secure executive doors of the club a very welcome sight.
The moment they stepped inside, the rich, ambient warmth of Enigma wrapped around them, the scent of expensive cologne, faint woodsmoke, and clean leather instantly signaling the safety of their inner sanctum. Silas was already out in the main common area, just stepping away from Lennon’s office.
"Morning, Wyatt. Bitsy," Silas nodded, his expression relaxed but alert.
"Good morning, Silas," Wyatt replied, his voice level as he guided Bitsy toward their shared office.
Before they could separate, the outer security doors opened again, and Zane walked in, looking remarkably cheerful for an early morning. In his hands, he carried two large cardboard drink carriers packed tight with steaming cups.
"Morning, crew," Zane grinned, setting the carriers down on the central conference table. "Brought the morning fuel."
Zane pulled out a plain black coffee—strong, clean, and completely no-nonsense—and handed it to Silas, who accepted it with a nod. Then Zane reached back into the carrier, handing Wyatt his usual preference, a cup with a bit of substance and enough cream to set it apart from Silas's strict rules.
"Thanks, man," Wyatt said, taking the warm cup.
Zane looked at Bitsy next, offering a friendly, open smile. "Bitsy, I wasn't entirely sure how you took your coffee, or if you even liked it, so I guessed and got you a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. But let me know what you prefer so I can get it right for future runs."
Bitsy stepped forward, her face lighting up with genuine delight as she took the steaming cup from the carrier. "Oh, hot chocolate is actually perfect, Zane! Thank you so much. I actually really dislike coffee, so this is amazing."
"Good to know," Zane chuckled, nodding in satisfaction.
Just then, the door to Lennon’s office swung fully open, and Lennon stepped out.
Her stunning features were bright, but the second her eyes locked onto the drink carriers, a look of pure, unchecked desperation took over.
"Tell me that's caffeine," she groaned playfully, sweeping past Zane and instantly snagging a cup from the carrier without looking at anyone else, lifting it to her lips for a deep sip.
Wyatt felt the air in the room instantly shift. Silas’s eyes narrowed, his relaxed posture evaporating into the terrifying authority of a Daddy whose little girl had just forgotten her manners.
"Lennon," Silas rumbled, his voice dropping an octave into a dark, non-negotiable register that made Zane instantly look at the ceiling.
Lennon froze, the coffee cup hovering just below her lips as she realized her mistake. She looked up at Silas, her eyes going wide.
"Put the cup down," Silas commanded sternly, stepping directly into her space.
Lennon meekly set the coffee cup back onto the wooden table, her shoulders hunching as she looked down at her shoes. "Sorry," she whispered.
"Being desperate for caffeine does not excuse being rude, snatching things like a toddler, and failing to say thank you to Zane," Silas said, his voice ringing clearly through the open suite.
Without hesitation, he reached out, his large hand gripping Lennon by the hip to turn her around so her backside faced him.
SMACK.
The sharp, heavy crack of Silas’s palm hitting Lennon’s slacks echoed loudly through the room. Lennon let out a sharp gasp, her hands flying to cover her bottom as a bright flush rushed up her cheeks.
Wyatt watched the interaction with a calm, neutral expression, completely unfazed by the display of discipline.
But his dark eyes immediately darted down to Bitsy, tracking her reaction.
Bitsy had gone entirely still, her mouth slightly parted, her eyes wide as she looked from Silas to the blushing Lennon.
There was no fear in Bitsy’s expression—only a profound, bewildered realization of just how normal, how accepted, and how utterly loving this dynamic truly was.
"Now," Silas ordered gently, his hand resting on the small of Lennon's back. "Try that again."
Lennon rubbed her bottom for a brief second before turning to face Zane, her expression deeply apologetic. "I'm sorry for being rude, Zane. Thank you so much for bringing the coffee."