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"Yes. Sorry. Got a lot on my mind," I squeaked out. He chuckled, the sound reverberating through me, right to my core.
"You wouldn't happen to be thinking of that picture, would you?" he asked knowingly.
"Calculus. I was definitely thinking of calculus."
He chuckled again. "Okay, dream girl."
"Why do you keep calling me that?" I asked, trying to ignore just how much I loved it.
"That should be obvious. That's what you are. A girl almost too good to be true."
There was a blush across my cheeks, even though he couldn't see me.
"You wouldn’t think that if you really knew me," I said, the words escaping me before I even realized them.
There was a heavy silence, and I cursed myself, wondering why I’d said something so stupid. So vulnerable.
“I can one hundred percent promise you that I’ll still think you’re my dream girl when we meet," he finally promised.
CHAPTER 10
LINCOLN
Itook a deep breath as I walked through the lobby of Daniels International, preparing myself for the inevitable confrontation that lay ahead. The sleek, modern decor felt cold and sterile, a reflection of the man who owned it. Anstad Daniels, my father, the billionaire mogul who ran the largest hedge fund in the country.
After a week of ignoring his calls and texts, I’d finally given in and agreed to meet with him. As much as I hated the idea of seeing him, I knew I couldn’t keep avoiding him forever.
I walked into my father's office without knocking, and a gasp sounded in the room. Turning towards it, I saw his secretary, a woman my age, quickly getting up from the floor, adjusting her skirt. The woman's face was a mess, her red lipstick smeared all over her lips–and even beyond–like garish artwork, just like how I was sure it was smeared all over my father’s cock.
My stomach rolled, but I was used to this scene. I was pretty sure out of the thirty years my parents had been married, they’d been faithful to each other for three of them. Disgusted with the scene nevertheless, I looked away and tried to focus on the matter at hand.
"Lincoln, you're late," my father barked, not sounding at all bothered by what I’d walked in on. "Sit down."
The secretary quickly scurried out of the room, her face flushed with embarrassment and shame. Not that it would stop her from doing it again. Fucking my father was probably in the job description they posted when hiring his secretaries.
I took a deep breath and sat in front of him on the stiff, black leather couch, bracing myself for the usual lecture.
I could feel his eyes boring into me, and I tried to seem calm, staring around the room, taking in the sight of papers stacked precisely on his desk, and empty liquor bottles in a cart nearby. The stench of stale alcohol and sex was suffocating, a testament to the life my father led on a daily basis.
I could already sense the tension in the air, like a thunderstorm waiting to break.
When I finally glanced at my father, he was glaring at me from behind his desk, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. I cocked an eyebrow, daring him to get on with it.
"About time you showed up," he snapped. "What's your excuse this time? Break your phone?"
I rolled my eyes, already tired of it all. "I had things to take care of," I replied coolly, examining my father’s features. I knew everyone still found his appearance quite striking, the only real sign of age his graying temples mixing in with his dark hair. He had a chiseled jawline and prominent cheekbones that gave him a distinguished persona. But his piercing brown eyes seemed to radiate an aura of malice and cruelty that should’ve made even the bravest of souls shudder. He was only an inch or two shorter than me, and he took care of his physical appearance, dressing impeccably in a tailored suit every fucking day, making sure he projected an air of sophistication. Part of his success, though, was that there was something unsettling about him that left a sour taste in your mouth…that made you want to keep your distance. One glance at my father, and you knew he was the type of man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, regardless of the cost.
My father snorted in disbelief, breaking me from my thoughts. "Things to take care of? Like what, drinking yourself into a stupor?"
I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my temper in check. "Look, I'm sorry I missed the date,” I tossed at him sarcastically. “But I won’t fuck some girl just because you want me to."
My father's face turned an ugly, blotchy, red color. "You ungrateful little shit," he spat. "I give you everything you could ever want, and you can't even do this one thing for me?"
I clenched my fists, a surge of anger and frustration racing through me. "It’s never just one thing with you. It’s never-ending actually. But I had to draw a line somewhere…might as well stop at prostitution.”
He leaned forward, his eyes blazing. "You fucking asshole…”
“I’m not a little school boy who’s waiting around to fulfill all yourfuckingdemands, at thefuckingsnap of your fingers. I have a life.”
