Page 7 of The Daddy’s Girl

My jaw drops in feigned offense. “Still? What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re the oldest guy I’ve ever slept with,” she says, and it truly doesn’t hurt my feelings to hear that. I’m the oldest guy many people have slept with. “But you were by far the best.”

Well, now I feel even worse. I was far from my prime tonight, and she still thinks I’m the best. The men out here must be doing something very wrong. The bar is tragically low.

“How old are you?” I ask nonchalantly as I pull the condom off, tie it up, and drop it in the bin.

She casually climbs from the bed and grabs her black lace lingerie from the crushed velvet lounge. “Twenty-five.”

I nod. I would have thought her a little older, but I would never say that. Then for some reason, Amelia’s face enters my mind.

Amelia is twenty-five.

I look at the black-haired beauty across from me again. This woman is Amelia’s age. When the fuck did this happen?

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” the woman laughs. “Is twenty-five too young for you?”

I clear my throat as I stand up. “Not at all. I just realized my goddaughter is twenty-five.”

Francesca sucks air through her teeth. “Yikes. That must be a little strange, isn’t it?”

I quickly shake my head. “No. Shit, I don’t know why I brought that up. I’m sorry, ma belle. Here, let me help you.”

Stark naked, I cross the room to grab her dress from the hook and bring it to her. I notice the way her gaze rakes up and down my body with appreciation before taking it from my hand.

“I’ve got it, thanks,” she replies with a sexy smirk. It’s quiet between us for a moment as she gets dressed and slips on her black stilettos.

“Would you like to get a drink?” I ask in a futile attempt to be a gentleman.

The woman only laughs. “I think we were supposed to do that before we fucked like animals.”

“You’ll have to forgive me,” I say as I slip on my briefs with a chuckle. “I’ve only mastered the fucking part. The rest is still foreign to me.”

With a grin, she steps toward me and places a well-manicured hand on my chest. Running her nails through my chest hair, she lifts on her tiptoes and adds, “That’s okay. No one likes a gentleman in a sex club anyway.”

With that, she turns on her heels and walks out the door, leaving me reeling and wondering what the hell I’m even doing.

“You want another, Matis?” the young bartender, Weston, asks while he finishes putting away the liquor bottles from tonight.

I shrug. “Why not?” I slide the empty wineglass toward him, and he tops it off with my favorite French cabernet. “Merci.”

The club is nearly empty, and I’m not even sure of the time. Outside this underground club, the sun is probably rising over Paris, waking up the city with a warm, hazy glow. I used to walk home in it every single morning, reveling in another perfect night. My entire adult life could be summed up in those quiet moments.

The lights in Legacy are low, and the slow, sultry beat of some French jazz music crackles on the speakers. Sitting at the bar, I look around and admire the incredible work of my successors. The six of them have taken this place into the next generation, and it’s better off for it.

But at the same time, it leaves me with a sense of melancholy deep in my bones. For years, I ruled this place. I was the king of L’Amour, and I lived here more than my own home.

This club was my second skin. A living organ that grew to be a part of me.

Two years ago, I let it all go because I thought it was time, but now…I’m not so sure. Did I leave too soon? What is truly left for me in this life now?

I have no one. Nothing. No passion or career or drive. I’m just a lonely old man drinking wine alone in the middle of the night at a club he’s outgrown.

Haunted by too much past and not enough future.

It’s too late for me to start over. Too late for me to have new dreams.

I can’t help but think about Amelia upstairs, surrounded by her creations, like the creativity in her mind somehow exploded into reality. That girl burns with ambition and brilliance, and she has her entire life ahead of her. She is color and chaos and bursts of genius, and I envy her for that.