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"Mike," Joe warned, his voice stern yet gentle. "We are leaving. Now." He began to walk away, leaving Mike alone on the floor.
But Mike didn't budge. He sat there, unfazed, knowing his Daddy loved him too much to ever leave him behind.
His obstinacy had me intrigued. "Why don't you buy the train set yourself, Mike? With your job's money?" I asked.
Mike turned to me, his eyes sparkling with a hint of his usual mischief. "Lina," he started, "when I'm in my Little state, big decisions like that aren't for me to make. It's Daddy's job to decide what's best for me, including the toys I get to play with."
I could see the logic in his explanation. It was the dynamic between a Little and their Daddy. The Little had the luxury of being cared for, while the Daddy bore the responsibility of making the best decisions for their Little.
Joe returned to warn Mike of the impending punishment for his disobedience. Yet, his threat seemed to bounce off Mike's unyielding resolve, his eyes still fixed on the toy train set, an unwavering determination in his gaze.
I declined the offer from Uncle Joe to drive me home. He seemed a little taken aback by my insistence on taking the bus so late at night.
Meanwhile, Mike's sit-in protest in front of the toy store window was still in full swing. I had to stifle a giggle as I watched Uncle Joe trying all possible strategies to coax him away from the window.
Finally, Uncle Joe seemed to have an epiphany. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a binky, inserting it into Mike's mouth, and distracting him with a colorful picture of a lollipop on his phone screen. It was like watching a maestro conducting an orchestra, so smoothly did he handle the situation.
Mike's eyes widened with fascination, the allure of the vibrant colors momentarily distracting him from his desire for the toy train. Seizing the opportunity, Uncle Joe scooped Mike into his arms and quickly made his way towards the car.
Watching them from a distance, I was amazed at the stark contrast between Mike's Little state and his usual self. His witty remarks and cheeky retorts had been replaced by a childlike wonder that was equally captivating.
As Uncle Joe’s car pulled away from the curb, Mike turned around and waved at me, the colorful image on the phone screen momentarily forgotten. His eyes flickered with a sudden realization that he had been tricked. He popped the binky out of his mouth, turning to say something to his Daddy. I couldn't quite catch his words as the car rounded a corner and disappeared from sight, but I could imagine the amusing argument that was sure to follow, eliciting a giggle from me.
I was left standing at the bus stop, alone with my swirling thoughts. The hustle and bustle of the day had masked the undercurrent of my feelings, but now they came rushing to the forefront. My mind kept drifting back to Hank. There was no denying my growing attraction towards him. His participation in the event had revealed a side to him that was charismatic, warm, and immensely appealing.
But then, there was also the harsh, cold side he had shown me earlier. It was like a stone lodged in my heart, refusing to budge. I didn’t quite understand my feelings, nor did I know what to make of them. As the street lights flickered on, casting long shadows around me, I awaited the arrival of the bus, hoping the journey home would bring some clarity.
Chapter 4: Lina
As morning filtered through my apartment window, gently washing the room in a soft, golden hue, I woke up from a night of fitful dreams. The memories of the previous day's events at the club were still fresh. I lay there for a moment, relishing the stillness of the morning.
A peculiar sense of longing welled up within me as I thought of Hank. His cold demeanor and acerbic remarks from the day before had done little to dissuade my growing curiosity about him.
A twinge of unease knotted my stomach as I found myself questioning my life choices. After years of relentless struggle, my successful career as an ad creative had finally led me to Apex Creations. This was a goal I had always aspired to, and I was looking forward to my first day working there. The exhilarating fast-paced world of advertisement, the glamour, and the thrill of high-stake projects had always been the driving forces behind my ambitions.
Yet, as I lay there contemplating the day ahead, I found myself reflecting on the personal sacrifices I'd made along the way. The countless missed family gatherings, lost friendships, and personal relationships that had withered away before they could even bloom. My quest for success had left little room for anything else, and in the cold, hard light of reality, the glamour seemed to lose its luster.
Shaking off my morning musings, I rose and prepared for my day. I chose my business attire with care, wanting to project an image of impeccable professionalism.
As I walked into the sleek, modern offices of Apex Creations, I felt a surge of determination. The bustling environment, the collective energy of the people in the lobby, the stimulating air of creativity – it all added to my anticipation for the exciting day ahead.
Hearing a familiar voice in the lobby, I turned around. Hank stumbled in, looking as though he had wrestled a tornado and lost. His hair was disheveled, his shirt rumpled and clinging to his strong, muscular frame, and a lukewarm cup of coffee gripped in his hand. He stood there, as striking and out of place as a thunderstorm in the middle of a sunny afternoon.
My heart performed a quick, involuntary somersault at the sight of him, and I froze in my tracks. Hank, here? I hadn't expected this twist on my first day. I wasn't sure how to handle seeing him in this professional environment, far removed from the club where we'd crossed paths. I had tried to convince myself that I despised him, but the flutter in my chest and the twist in my stomach betrayed my actual feelings.
"Great, just great," I muttered under my breath. "I'll have to start job hunting again if seeing him every day becomes a reality."
Hank moved through the lobby with the arrogance of a king in his castle. When his gaze met mine, he barely acknowledged me, his icy demeanor untouched.
I couldn't let him get away with his snobbery, so I quipped, "Had a rough night, Hank? Or are you just coming back from a walk of shame?"
A slow smirk stretched across his face as he shot back, "Why Lina, are you jealous?"
The unexpected retort caught me off guard, and I felt my cheeks flush. Me, jealous? Over Hank? The thought was as intriguing as it was terrifying.
Gritting my teeth, I hid my discomfort behind a façade of bravado. "No," I retorted. "I'd rather step on a lego barefoot than share a bed with you."
Soon as the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, Hank and I stepped onto the buzzing floor of our workspace. My senses were bombarded by the frenzy of activity—the hustle and bustle of a vibrant ad agency in full swing. It was intoxicating, heady, and terrifyingly overwhelming.
