Chapter 20 Wyatt #3
Zane smiled easily, completely accustomed to the club's inner workings. "Don't worry about it, Lennon. Enjoy."
Before the silence could stretch, the security doors opened one last time, and Hudson stepped in, his heavy tactical boots silent against the floor. He nodded to the room in his usual stoic fashion, and Zane seamlessly handed him the final coffee cup from the carrier. "Thanks, man," Hudson grunted.
With the morning ritual completed, the group began to separate.
Silas wrapped an arm around Lennon’s waist, whispering something stern against her ear that made her nod quickly as he pulled her directly into his office to finish their discussion behind closed doors.
Hudson and Zane gave brief nods before heading toward their respective stations, leaving the common area quiet once more.
Wyatt guided Bitsy into their private, shared office space, setting her heavy laptop duffle down by her desk. He closed their door, shutting out the rest of the suite.
Bitsy walked over to her chair, setting her hot chocolate and the foil-wrapped sandwich onto the desk before slowly unbuttoning her sage-green coat.
She looked over at Wyatt, her fingers trembling slightly against the buttons.
"It is just so strange to see someone like Lennon—someone so brilliant and confident—be scolded and swatted like a little girl right in front of everyone. "
Wyatt walked around his desk, shedding his own suit jacket and hanging it over the back of his chair. He looked at her, his expression warm but deeply serious. "Sit down, Bitsy. Eat your breakfast while it's hot."
She obeyed instantly, sliding into her chair and carefully peeling back the foil wrapper of the biscuit. The savory aroma of the hot sausage and cheese filled the room. She took a small, appreciative bite, chewing quietly as her eyes remained fixed on him.
"Littles come in all shapes, sizes, professions, and genders, Bitsy," Wyatt explained softly, leaning his large forearms against his desk as he looked across at her.
"Lennon is an incredibly capable, fierce young woman whose brilliant mind designs the very physical structures of our operations.
But the weight of that responsibility is heavy.
She thrives because she knows that the second she steps out of line, Silas is there to reign her back in.
He handles the universe so she doesn't have to.
The swat she received wasn't meant to humiliate her; it was a quick, effective reminder that she is safe enough to be kept in line.
She doesn't have to be the boss when her Daddy is in the room. "
Bitsy took a sip of her hot chocolate, the rich sweetness a perfect contrast to the savory biscuit.
She nodded slowly, the logic of his words sinking deep into her soul, soothing the last remnants of her adult defenses.
"It makes sense. Seeing her not fight it...
seeing how safe she looked afterward. It's just different than anything I've ever known. "
"I know it is," Wyatt rumbled, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a fierce, protective warmth.
"And that is exactly what I am establishing with you.
Yesterday, when I spanked you, it was because you were actively endangering your own health and lying to me about your well-being.
You have spent your entire life believing that if you don't carry the world on your shoulders, you will fail.
I am telling you that under my care, you are allowed to drop the weight.
I will handle the big things. Now, finish every bite of that sandwich. "
"Yes, sir," she murmured softly, a deep sense of pliant comfort washing over her. She ate the rest of the breakfast in a peaceful, rhythmic silence, enjoying the luxury of being taken care of, while Wyatt opened his laptop and began sorting through the morning security briefs.
Once her breakfast was completely gone, Bitsy carefully folded the foil into a neat square, setting it aside. She picked up her trash, tossing it into the bin before looking across the room. "Thank you. That was so good."
"You're welcome, little girl. Now, let's get on track for work," Wyatt shifted seamlessly back into a professional, authoritative register. "We have a backlog of diagnostic logs from the western sectors to scrub through before the afternoon briefings."
For the next several hours, the office fell into a highly efficient, professional rhythm.
Wyatt’s attention remained divided between the scrolling logs on his screens and the physical cues of the girl sitting across from him.
He tracked the analytical sharpness of her expression as her fingers flew across the keyboard, isolating code anomalies and reinforcing their firewalls with a speed that consistently impressed him.
She was an absolute asset in the digital space.
But every time she paused to rub her eyes or stretch her neck, his protective instincts took over, a quiet reminder that she was also his fragile little girl who needed to be closely monitored.
Around eleven o'clock, Wyatt noticed her focus fracturing slightly. She paused, reaching into her small purse, and pulled out a standard, low-quality granola bar. She unwrapped it quietly, trying to be discreet as she took a bite.
Wyatt stopped typing, crossing his arms as he watched her. "Is that your idea of a mid-morning snack, Bitsy?"
Bitsy froze, the granola bar halfway to her mouth, her eyes dawning toward his with a guilty flare. "It's just... to tide me over until lunch."
"We are going to buy you proper, nutritious snacks this afternoon," he said, his tone an absolute promise. "No more processed cardboard. If you are hungry, you tell me."
"Yes, sir," she whispered, her cheeks turning pink as she quickly finished the bar and washed it down with the remainder of her hot chocolate.
As one o'clock arrived, the terminal flickered and the system automatically locked the interface, the screen dimming to a blank, secure state. Wyatt leaned back, glancing at the screen before turning his gaze to her. "That’s it for now, Bitsy. The system’s locked us out—it's lunch time."
They walked out into the central conference room, where the heavy, comforting aroma of roasted bread and hot soup had already filled the common space.
Vic was at the center of the room, unloading three large, heavy paper bags from a local bistro, while Hudson stood beside him, helping unpack the large plastic containers of hot food onto the long wooden table.
Zane was already settled nearby, talking quietly with them as the lids were unsealed.
Bitsy moved quietly toward the table, sliding into an empty chair to wait for the spread to be completely ready.
A few moments later, Silas and Lennon joined them in the room.
Lennon immediately walked over and claimed the seat directly next to her, offering a warm smile.
Wyatt took his spot at the head of the table, a proud, subtle smile touching his lips as he watched the two women instantly fall into an animated conversation about a system script they were modifying.
The visual of Bitsy integrating so seamlessly into their family brought a deep, profound sense of peace to his chest.
Vic finished setting out the containers, his booming voice cutting through the chatter. "Alright, people, I went all out today. We have soups and sandwiches. I've got three distinct soup options: tomato basil, classic chicken noodle, and a broccoli and aged cheddar. Speak up."
Wyatt immediately looked down the table at Bitsy, noting the way she subtly shrank back, waiting for everyone else to choose first.
"Bitsy," Wyatt called out, his voice sharp enough to command her attention but filled with an undeniable warmth. "Which soup do you want?"
Bitsy blinked, her fingers tightening behind her ear. "Oh... I can just take whatever everyone else doesn't want. Truly, I'm not picky."
"I didn't ask if you were picky, little girl," Wyatt rumbled softly, his tone brook-no-argument Daddy mode. "There is more than enough of each kind for you to have exactly what you want. Choose."
Silas chuckled from across the table, turning to Lennon before Bitsy could answer. "The same goes for you, love. What are you having?"
"Broccoli cheddar, please," Lennon said instantly, offering Silas a bright, beautiful smile that showed she had completely recovered from her earlier discipline.
Bitsy looked at the containers, a small, genuine choice finally breaking through her hesitation. "The tomato basil, please."
Wyatt nodded in approval. He stood up, efficiently assembling her plate.
He placed a steaming bowl of the rich, red tomato soup in front of her, alongside a perfectly toasted, golden-brown grilled cheese sandwich and a fresh bottle of water.
For himself, he selected a hearty bowl of chicken noodle soup and grabbed one of the thick caprese sandwiches loaded with fresh mozzarella and basil.
Zane leaned halfway across the table, waving his half-eaten sandwich toward Vic to re-engage in their ongoing debate.
"Look, Vic, I’m just saying you have to think about the absolute disaster of an open registry.
You and Marcus are trying to keep this wedding small and practical, which is great, but if you don't give people specific directions, you're going to end up with five different high-end blenders and enough matching dinnerware to feed the entire club. "
Vic stopped his spoon halfway to his mouth, letting out a heavy, incredibly loud sigh.
"Zane, we don't want a registry at all. Marcus and I already have an entire apartment packed with everything we need.
If people want to give us something, they can bring a nice bottle of wine.
I do not need a silver gravy boat or monogrammed towels. "