Tyrant Daddy by Isabella Starling

Chapter 6

Raphael

"Are you almost ready, Raphael? We need to get going."

I ignore the voice and splash myself with cologne. But like her old yappy dog, Pepper, Elise just won't shut the fuck up.

"Raphael, we need to get going. The cab is already downstairs. I told you a million times, we can't be late for this! I don't want to look bad in front of the sponsors."

A moment later, the voice comes back again.

"Are you almost done?"

I fight the urge to bark back a reply and instead take my time doing up the buttons of my shirt, ignoring Elise's nagging voice.

"Raphael!" She saunters into the bedroom but shuts up when she sees me glaring at her.

"Don't you think you should treat me with a little more respect?" I ask calmly, making her pale. "I think you're forgetting that this is only a business arrangement, Elise, nothing else and nothing more."

I slick my hair back in the mirror while she stares on with a miserable expression.

"I could break it off here and now," I tell her coolly, shrugging on my blazer. "Behavior like this makes me question why I haven't done it already. You're annoying the fuck out of me today."

"I'm s-s-sorry," she stutters. "Please forgive me."

I chuckle. "How quickly you break, Elise."

I don't tell her this is exactly why she isn't the woman for me – I'm sure she can figure it out by herself.

"Come on," I go on. "The cab's waiting."

We exit the building minutes later. I pretend not to notice how badly she wants me to hold her hand after she brushes her palm against mine for the second time. I open the cab door for her – I'm not a savage, after all – and we sit in silence while we drive up to the charity event Elise is hosting tonight.

"By the way," she says calmly. "You might know one of the assistants who helped with this charity ball."

"Oh?" I ask, feigning interest. "Who is it?"

Probably another one of her loaded, vapid socialite friends with Daddy's Amex.

"Dove Canterbury," she smiles innocently. "Oh, I suppose it's Dove Miller now. Do you remember her?"

She doesn't need to ask me, the answer is written all over my face. Of-fucking-course I remember Dove – she's the one that smashed my heart into a million pieces. But the pain I anticipate every time I think of her doesn't come this time. I feel strangely numb at the thought of seeing Dove after all these years.

"I remember her," I finally answer. "But that won't be a problem in case you're worried about keeping this business arrangement under wraps for your friends."

"You sure about that?" Elise narrows her eyes at me. "As far as I can remember, you were infatuated with Dove. I don't want anyone to suspect our relationship isn't as solid as we make it out to be. Especially not Dove."

"Yeah, you always hated her, didn't you," I mutter. "Jealous, Elise?"

She purses her lips just as the car pulls up in front of our venue. I tip the driver and plaster on my fake as fuck happy mask, getting the door for Elise and walking into the architecturally impressive building with our arms linked.

Surprisingly, I'm not constantly on the lookout for Dove. The benefit is for the homeless people of LA, so it really shouldn't surprise me she would be assisting with it. Frankly, what surprises me more is that they put Elise in charge of the ball instead of Dove.

Absentmindedly, I find myself wondering whether Dove will come with her shady as fuck husband, Nox. I always hated that bastard. He stole Dove away from me, after all.

"There's Dove." Elise tugs on my sleeve and nods to the left. "Come on. Let's go say hello."

I groan. "Why?"

"Because," she hisses stubbornly before flashing me a winning smile. "I got the man, not her."

That's hardly true, but at least it makes me fucking feel better as I follow Elise through the crowd and to a dazzling couple in black chatting to a group of animated people.

It's nice to see Dove Canterbury hasn't given up on her signature color. The darkness embraces her like an old friend. Tonight, she's not hiding her scars – they're plainly visible in the sleeveless, backless dress with a slit running up her thigh.

Even her criminal of a husband looks alright in an expensively-cut tux and Italian leather shoes. They barely look older than they did when I met them for the first time, and it makes me feel like an old man. There's no trace of silver in Nox's hair and beard. Not like mine.

"Dove!" Elise taps my old flame on the shoulder and Dove turns around, her lips tightening as Elise air-kisses her. "How wonderful that you came. I have a little surprise for you?"

"Oh?" Dove smiles uncomfortably, glancing around the room as if looking for a way out.

"This is my fiancé. I think you know each other?" Elise babbles innocently.

Dove looks up at me right at the second Nox turns around and wraps his arm possessively around his wife's waist.

"Hello again," I get out in a low mutter. "Good to see you."

"Raphael!" I have to give Dove credit – she actually looks excited as she smiles widely at me. "How wonderful to see you after all this time."

"Likewise," I say, leaning in to kiss her cheek purely out of politeness. But her prick of a husband isn't having it and he shoves me back. "Relax, man."

"Don't kiss her," Nox says in a growl.

"Nox," Dove laughs nervously as a couple people turn to look at us. "Relax. It's nothing."

And just like that, she's reminded me yet again how much I mean to her.

It's fucking nothing.

"It's fine," I say in a clipped tone. "I should have known better. Have a pleasant evening."

"Wait," Dove insists. I'm surprised her husband doesn't growl at the word. "I... We'd love to catch up."

"Oh, there are Mimi and Kiki," Elise mutters distractedly. "I have to go say hello, darling."

"Sure," I nod, allowing her to kiss my cheek, leaving a lip print in her wake. She couldn't be more obvious in wanting to impress Dove. The woman from my past and I share a secretive smile before I remember Nox. That motherfucking bastard. "So. Catching up."

"Yes," she nods enthusiastically, elbowing her husband in the ribs. He glares at her before pulling her in for a deep, seductive kiss that lasts ages. I clear my throat twice and he still won't stop. By the time he lets go of Dove, she's flushed and out of breath. "Anyway. Do you and Elise have children?"

"No," I laugh. "Far too late for that. And the two of you?"

"We have three," Nox barks. "A girl and twin boys."

"How wonderful." We glare at one another before Dove mercifully cuts in.

"Yes, we are very blessed." An uncomfortable silence follows before Dove nervously jumps in again. "Let me show you some pictures."

She scrolls past pictures of the twin boys. It's impossible to tell the two apart, and they look just like their father. I brace myself for the sight of Dove's daughter. It will be painful as fuck. Once upon a time, I dreamed of that being our child.

I'm getting bored of nodding and giving compliments when she scrolls past a photo of a leggy, thin blonde in denim cut off shorts.

"Wait," I mutter, pointing to her phone. "Who's that?"

"Oh, this?" Dove scrolls back through her album and opens a shot that is so unmistakably Willa my cock hardens at the mere sight of her. Dove gives Nox a proud smile. "That's Willa on her eighteenth birthday."

"Willa?" I swallow thickly. I can feel Nox staring at me as Dove keeps going through the photos, blissfully unaware. "But you didn't have a baby eighteen years ago."

"Yeah, we adopted her," Nox barks at me. "Got a problem with that, fucker?"

"Jesus, Nox, would you relax?" Dove gives him a warning look but the man is still practically sneering at me. "Raphael, I'm so sorry. We're going to get going."

"Sure," I manage. "See you around."

They leave me standing alone in a crowd of faces, though I only see one – a certain leggy, thin blonde in a pair of denim cutoffs.

Willa.

My Willa.

My Willa is... their Willa?

I'm so beyond fucked.

I drown my sorrows in booze that night. I force myself to think about accepting Elise's numerous advances when she senses my defenses are down. But I can't bring myself to do it. The thought doesn't even make my dick twitch. That one pretty face is still on my mind, relentlessly haunting me, even in my dreams.

For a week, I do everything in my power to stop thinking about her, save for fucking someone else.

I consider calling one of the women in my little black book, perhaps the very one who was with me the night I met Willa, in a sick turn of fate. But I can't. I can't do anything but beat my cock into an unsatisfying orgasm. Every stroke of my fist is for Willa, every shot of cum meant for her holes. I'm a man going insane. Fighting this addiction is going to fucking kill me.

Now that I have Willa's last name, it's even easier to find her. But I feel sick looking up her history, so I force myself to stop and focus on the profile I've already discovered. And there she is, displayed in full sepia-toned glory, a fake fucking filter plastered over her beautiful face.

I want to see her without the filters.

I want to see her in person.

I want to feel her sweet pink pussy lips parting only for me.

The decision to call her makes me feel relieved but weak at the same time. It's impressive she managed not to contact me for this long.

The call rings and rings, but she doesn't pick up. Pissed off, I set my phone down and pace my office overlooking the city. Fucking fuck. She should be on her knees before me, because I want to take this goddamn frustration out on something pretty, and she's the prettiest little thing I've ever seen.

My phone buzzes on the desk and I make a grab for it.

Why are you calling me, weirdo? Text pls

I can't help grinning at her message, my fingers quickly firing off a reply.

Wanted to hear your voice. I need your pussy, trouble.

I knew you couldn't resist. How much?

I furrow my brows at the last text she's sent. What the fuck? She wants me to keep paying her?

My internal battle over how wrong this is, ends embarrassingly quickly.

Double last time.

Yes, Daddy!

When?

Let me surprise you. Pull some late nights at the office this week!

I think better than to reply and put my phone back down. My heart is hammering and my dick is hard despite just milking it a few hours ago. This girl will be the death of me. I'm too old for this shit.

At the same time, I can't help but take some sick pleasure in my new-found knowledge that she's the Millers’ daughter. Nox would kill me if he knew, and Dove would be devastated.

It shouldn't turn me the fuck on, but it does.

That night is the first of many that I spend late in my office that week. I feed Elise excuse after bullshit excuse and stay up late waiting for trouble. But trouble doesn't come.

By the eighth day I'm pissed as fuck, especially since I already sent her the cash and I saw the transaction went through. The little bitch cheated me... and I'm going to make her fucking pay.