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She's what's been missing from my life.
She’s fucking nineteen. I’m more than old enough to be her father.
At forty-one, I’ve got more money than I’ll ever need. I’ve never had a real relationship as most would define it. Most women who’ve ever shown interest in me simply saw me as an ATM with a dick, and the dick part was, at best, an afterthought.
But today I’ve found my girl.
She called me Daddy without provocation and inside me my heart came alive.
My desires no longer feel dirty and vile.
Those desires to claim her and brand her with my scent. Those desires to pin her down and smack her round ass until it glows a bright red.
My innate desire to make her ache and cry out in both pleasure and pain, then draw her into my lap as she curls against me, giving me everything. They all feel right.
The novel heat coiling around my heart is fear. Already, I'm afraid of losing her.
There’s a slight tremor in my fingers as I return the catalog and shut the drawer. I, too, have a hiding place at home.
A place no one besides myself has ever seen.
I swallow hard as I peer towards the bedroom door. I have to clench my fists to keep from going in after her.
I reach for another drawer but stop when I hear my fucking phone vibrating. I consider ignoring it, but the prick of urgency that it could at any moment be my mother about my father has me checking the screen. It’s Isabella again, a text this time, and nothing could possibly be this important right now, but old habits die hard and I tap on the text.
Isabella: There is growing evidence being discovered in the potential suits against you, despite our earlier belief that they were exaggerated bluff by the plaintiffs. I’d like to bring to your attention that a new employee has just come forth with another harassment claim against you. Megumi Wei lives in Atlanta and is accusing you of sexual intimidation. This is the third woman in less than two weeks. I’m sorry to bring you more bad news.
I haven't even been to my Atlanta office in over two years. It’s impossible. Surely this is a good thing, proof it’s all bullshit, but I still have no idea why someone would do that.
Megumi Wei. The name doesn’t ring a bell. The other two women that came forward in the last week worked at two of my other companies. One in the commercial real estate holdings accounting department, the other at one of our tech companies in Thousand Oaks as a programmer. I knew them both in passing, but never spent a moment alone with either.
Another text tone chimes and I read the new message.
Isabella: We need to meet at your earliest convenience to hash out the details for the defense, whether we allow the charges against you to go forth into the courts or you choose to deal with them privately. The frequency and number of these filings is becoming impossible to keep out of the media as well as other significantly serious negative effects. I am available at any time, just let me know when and where and I’ll be there.
Negative effects.
Chastity is suddenly unreachable, unattainable.
She’ll never want me after she learns of the accusations.
I am about to become a villain in the eyes of the public. As soon as the news hits the stands, I’ll be persona non grata in the business world as well. It will be a shit storm, even if I prove my innocence beyond a doubt.
They’re lies, but so far it’s been my word against theirs and it’s going to take a hell of a lot to convince an innocent girl like Chastity that this was some kind of corporate sabotage, or well-orchestrated cash grab, which are the best explanations I have right now for what it could be.
That’s all I’ve ever been to women in the past. A means to an end. Chastity is different.
I need her to be different.
Swallowing hard, I lean against the kitchen counter and stare at the bedroom door.
I have to figure out a way to fix this. It will take millions, I’m sure, but right now, instead of fight it in public, I’ll pay it off in private to make it all go away. If I pay, it will be just as much as admonition of guilt as much as if I’d been convicted in court.
My eyes scan the counter, trying to figure out my next move, resolving to do whatever is necessary to keep this quiet.
Then, I see it half hidden behind a container of flour.
The air feels chilled. The custom black and white check and logo on the lanyard is familiar.
I yank it up and scan the laminated card.
Chastity Nash.
Marketing Intern. Westwood Inc.
