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Chapter Eight
Vance had done his best to distract himself for the rest of the weekend after leaving Lilith mussed in bed, clutching her bat. It wasn’t easy.
Partly because he always had work stuff churning in the back of his mind and he was always up to his neck in briefs and depositions, managing associates and paralegals who were on his team, and whatever else he had to deal with for the cases he was working on. And partly, this time, because he couldn’t get his mind off the woman who was presumably puttering around his cabin, wearing god knows what and filling her time heaven knew how.
It was wildly inappropriate, he knew, and he ought to be ashamed of himself—and he was—but he couldn’t stop hoping that she might climb back into the big bed while wearing a cute as fuck onesie and sucking on her Hell Child paci, and maybe, just maybe, touching herself while she thought of him.
Pluck at those pert little nipples the thin cotton of her outfit couldn’t hide, unsnap the snaps between her legs so she could reach into adorable little panties or, Jesus fuck, a diaper, and play with her pussy while imagining it was him. Begging in that high-pitched angry kitten voice toplease, please, Daddy, fuck me.
A knock at his office door startled him but luckily he didn’t fall out of his chair like he’d tumbled out of bed Saturday morning. Shit, that’d been embarrassing. Who wanted a daddy who was like a bull in a china shop? Not that he was certain Lilith was looking for a daddy at all.
The door swung open revealing Arthur. His partner looked damn pleased with himself for seven-thirty on a Monday morning but it was probably because he’d woken up to his darling little girl and had his way with her, whatever that might’ve looked like.
Vance on the other hand, had definitely woken up alone. No mini-Morticia glaring at him or waking him up with a shake to tell him it was daytime so her bat was sleepy and he needed to put the mangy little sky rodent to bed, and would he please tuck them both in and give them kisses, please, Daddy?
Dammit.
“What’s got sun shining outta your ass?”
His grumpy question wasn’t fair, and Vance was usually the unflappable easygoing one, but Lilith Belladonna had him, well,flapped. A frown creased Arthur’s high forehead briefly but then his friend and partner shrugged it off, resettling his thick, black-framed glasses on his nose.
“Same as usual. Work’s good, wife’s good, life’s good.”
“That must be nice for you,” Vance grumbled as he sifted through some files on his desk without actually looking at them.
He really was happy for Arthur and Saoirse, truly. They were so much better suited than Arthur and Renata had ever been and it was nice to know that kind of starry-eyed devotion was a thing that could happen in real life.
Of course he and Nikki sometimes cracked open a bottle of one of their bet liquors and got absolutely loaded while complaining about how it was unfair for Arthur to use some sort of grey-haired warlock trick to siphon the love that should’ve been split between the three of them and hoard it all for himself. What a dick.
“What’s your problem? You’re the one who’s usually walking around all ‘no worries, everything’s good, chillax guys.’ You going to make me call Saoirse and tell her Uncle Vance needs some cheering up?”
“Don’t,” Vance said sharply, dragging his feet off the desk and rooting them to the floor before pointing at Arthur. “Don’t you fucking dare. I know you mean well, and so would Saoirse, but trust me when I say that would only make things worse.”
“Whoa there.”
Arthur stepped fully into Vance’s office and closed the door behind him. Vance could’ve told him to fuck off and get back to work but first of all, Arthur probably wouldn’t because he was a good friend, and second because if Vance didn’t get this out of his system before Nikki came around, he’d end up spilling to her, and Arthur would be a much more sympathetic audience.
Arthur parked himself in one of the chairs on the far side of Vance’s desk and rested an ankle on his knee, steepling his piano player’s fingers in front of his mouth.
“Seriously, what’s up? We can’t have three storm clouds in this office and Nikki and I already called dibs.”
Nikkihadbeen stormy as of late and Vance couldn’t blame her, not really. She’d been without a partner for longer than he had and it was harder for her to find. Plus there was the frustration of having to turn away all these horny men who she wanted nothing to do with. For some women that would be a nice problem to have. For Nikki, it just reminded her of the mommy that was nowhere to be found.
Arthur was only grumpy sometimes and it was usually because he was worried about Saoirse or a big case. Vance could demand he finally get his goddamn turn after all these years but he didn’t want to be twitchy and distracted and on a hair-trigger.
He raked his hands through his unruly hair and set his elbows on his desk.
“Okay, I’m gonna tell you. Under two conditions. One, you don’t tell Nikki—”
When Arthur opened his mouth to protest, Vance shook his head. “It has nothing to do with work, promise.”
The three of them didn’t keep shit from each other, but they especially didn’t keep secrets about the firm. That just wasn’t fair. And Vance was thinking of this as more of a delay in telling Nikki than not telling her at all. He wanted to wait until he wasn’t so fucking flustered and save it for when they were hanging out with a really good bottle of something he’d had to buy for Nikki because he’d lost yet another bet. At least then he could get fucked up while Nikki lectured him about how fucking unwise he was.
Arthur dipped his chin in acceptance. “And your second condition?”
“I also don’t want to hear from you about what a fucking idiot I am. I know already. I’m just gonna be a fuck-up about this, so I don’t need you to lecture me, Dad.”
“Alright.”
