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A sigh escapes Arlo's lips as he directs his eyes to his lap. "It was my fault." He rubs his jeans and sniffles. "I should've looked where I was stepping. I don't want the boys to get in trouble."
It's Arlo's selflessness that causes another trapdoor of desire to creak open within me. I stare at his rosy cheeks, his bee-stung lips, and force myself to stay in control. Poor sweet Arlo doesn't want the boys to pay for their carelessness. Perhaps he wants to make friends.
Or perhaps Arlo has such a low opinion of himself, born of countless years of bullying, that he feels he deserves to be the sole reason he tripped.
Nonsense. This angel didn't fall of his own accord. These boys in this club are the reasons for his tumble, and I intend to set the record straight.
Right. Fucking. Now.
"You didn't trip over your shoelaces." I squeeze his shoulder, holding him close. "The silly boys in the playroom made you do it. My brothers and I have told them to pick up their toys countless times, but they never listen."
A wet tear trails down Arlo's cheek as he trembles underneath my arm. "I'm so clumsy sometimes." He picks up the glass of milk and takes a big, sad sip. "I always fell flat on my face on the playground during recess. The boys at school called meunhappy feetbecause I was like the opposite of that dancing penguin in the animated movie."
Rage fills me at the thought of boys bullying Arlo because he tripped a lot. I don't know why they did it, but I hate them for it. Bullying is the worst thing imaginable because it causes people to crumble inside. Most bullying survivors refuse to take action against their bullies and instead direct their pain inward toward themselves.
"Hey." I tilt Arlo's chin up, and wipe the milk mustache from his upper lip. "This stops today. What happened out there wasn't your fault, and I refuse to let you believe it was."
Arlo lets out a sigh and slumps over on the counter. "If it wasn't a racecar, it would've been something else." He picks up his stuffy and places it on top of his head. "I would've dropped Mr. Green and tripped over him. I'm super clumsy."
I take the alien stuffy from Arlo. "Is Mr. Green your stuffy?"
It's such a beautiful stuffy. Arlo has incredible taste, if he picked this out himself.
Arlo nods, and, mumbling into his forearm, he says, "Yes. It's not creative, I know. But he's green and he looked like amisterto me."
Arlo's blue eyes are damp when he pulls his head away from his arm. "If you decide to be my Daddy—which, let's be real, I can't see happening—maybe you could help me rename him." He shakes his head. "Mr. Green is a placeholder name, anyway."
The sight of Arlo's teary eyes and gorgeous face makes me sigh. I can't fucking believe this boy doesn't have a partner. I also don't know how it's possible that he doesn't know how precious he is. Every damn word out of this boy's mouth convinces me fate brought me to the Little Bunny Club tonight. This poor sweet angel. I want to kiss his tears and reassure him that everything will be all right.
Maybe Arlo's the reason I wanted nothing serious after Carlos and I broke up. Maybe I've waited for this beautiful boy to step foot into my life, to blow past my defenses, to turn my world on its head. It's hilarious, because Daddies are the ones who choose their boys, but tonight, it feels like Arlo claimed me.
But I mustn't give myself over to this angel so soon. We hardly know each other, and I must make sure there are no red flags. After all, I fell head over heels in love with my ex-boyfriend too fast, too soon, and that turned out horribly.
I hold Arlo's hand and brush away his tears. "You're a special, special boy. Thank you for introducing me to Mr. Green."
Arlo's eyes widen as he bites his lower lip. "Did you… wipe my eyes?"
I nod. Like a soldier. Unaffected by emotion. "Yes." Sticking my thumb underneath my dress shirt, I bring the fabric to Arlo's lips and cheeks and pat his skin dry. "You had a tear in your eye. Daddy needed to brush it away to make you feel better."
Arlo thrusts his arms around me, burying his face in my chest. "That's it, sir. I'm latching onto you like a baby koala and never letting go."
My heart swells in my chest. Never, and I mean never, in my life have I experienced this type of instant connection with someone. Arlo is a soft little angel, and I want to adore him and make him my boy. I rub my nose in his blond hair, and sigh with delight as the smell of flowers swirls through me.
But deep down, I know I must stand my guard. It's one thing to feel an instant connection with an angel and play with him in the club. It's another thing to agree to be his Daddy.
"Gianluca, get the club's first aid kit and check this boy out. Make sure he doesn't have a concussion."
Arlo pulls his head away from my chest and downs his glass of milk. "Thank you for helping me. I really appreciate it."
My thumb finds the hem of Arlo's shirt, and smooths it out. "It's no problem, boy. My brother is a board-certified heart surgeon, and he'll make sure you're all right."
Arlo's breath hitches. "What'll happen when your brother finishes the examination?" His eyes drift around the club. "Will you cuddle with me in the beanbag chair?"
It happens in an instant.
The realization that I can't let this angel stay in this club or go anywhere by himself in this city without me.
"I have a better idea." I steal a sip of Arlo's milk. "I have a skyscraper overlooking the harbor in Chelsea. Have you ever seen a skyscraper in person?"
Arlo's mouth parts, then his jaw falls to his feet. "No."
"What's your living situation?"
Arlo kicks the barstool. "I got fired from my job at the candy store last week. I'm staying at a shared apartment in Harlem. But if I don't find a new job, I won't have money for rent next month."
I run my thumb across Arlo's cheek. "You're coming with me, boy. When my brother finishes checking you over, I'll bring you to my limousine and take you to my penthouse suite."
