Daddy's Girl: A Daddy Issues Novel, Rebel Wild [top 10 most read books in the world .TXT] 📗

“No, sir.”

“Then, you’re already aware?”

“Yes, sir.”

He hasn’t been this annoyed with me since the first day I arrived, but now I don’t know whether to feel like I’m being interrogated by the district attorney or by my new daddy.

“You purposely disobeyed.” He hisses at me. My new daddy.

“No, sir,” I say. “I didn’t mean… I mean, I wasn’t trying to… no, sir.”

“You know what’s expected of you and you chose to disregard it. Is it your goal to be punished?”

I shake my head but stop when he gives me a death glare for doing it.

“No, sir,” I tell him.

“Have I not been patient with you?”

“More than patient, sir,” I admit.

“Maybe a little too patient. Maybe you need a reminder of your place.”

“No, sir.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation with you again, or I’ll remind you of who I am,” he says, his voice rising with every word. “Do you want to get your father out of jail?”

“More than anything, sir.”

“Then do better to please me.” He slams his hand on his desk to bring home his point, making me jump a little.

“Yes, sir.”

My voice trembles. God, he makes me feel like shit. He takes a moment to breathe and just like that his anger goes away but seeing him calm does nothing to make me feel better.

“What happened with your father today? Joe said you were upset.”

“Yes, sir, I was.”

“Why?”

“I lied to him about working for you. I said I was just helping Mona. I never really lied to him that bad before. His lawyer wants him to take the plea deal you offered, but he won’t take it,” I tell him, sniffing as my tears flow at the mention of it and I stand crying like a big baby. “He won’t listen to him. He won’t listen to me. He’ll lose his license and he doesn’t want to be a burden on me. He cares more about his stupid license and making money than he does being free. His only shot is for me to do this right, but I’m messing up and I don’t know if I can please you enough to drop the charges. He’s scared, but he won’t admit it. He’d rather die than appear weak. He literally told me he would rather die.”

I hiccup and my shoulders bounce up and down as I try to do it silently. I know it’s probably not very pleasing to him. He lifts my chin. My breaths are ragged, and they make my face tremble as it rests in his hands. The movement of my eyes when I look up at him makes my head hurt even more and I grimace. His demeanor is cold, but his eyes are soft and sympathetic. It takes me back to how they were in the playroom. I wonder if he knows how much his eyes betray him.

“It’s not easy for a man to show weakness,” he tells me. “Especially to someone whose opinion matters.”

I’m about to give my “yes sir,” but I sniff too hard, causing a very loud snort. I’m so embarrassed. It must show on my face because his eyes dance with amusement. He releases my chin, takes a handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his suit jacket, and hands it to me to clean my face. I dry my tears with the smooth, bright fabric while he moves over to his desk. Opening his drawer, he takes out a blue medicine bottle. I recognize it as ibuprofen because Daddy takes it all the time. He pours two of the pills into his hand then goes over to his mini bar and pours a glass of water before returning to me. He hands me the two ibuprofen and gives me the water to chase them down.

“Your dinner’s waiting for you in the fridge,” he says, taking the empty glass from me.

“Thank you, sir.”

“For what?”

Listening.

“The pain pills.”

“Make sure you eat all your dinner as you didn’t have enough for lunch,” he says. “Go now.” He motions toward the door and I quickly leave.

I can’t believe I just spilled my guts to Mr. Garrett of all people, but now that I’ve unloaded and said it all out loud to someone, I feel better. My appetite has returned and it’s in full force. I open the fridge to retrieve my plate when I see a case of Coke.

“Yes,” I squeal as I take one and look at it like it’s gold.

I hold it in my hand. It’s perfectly chilled in all its red and white canned glory, just waiting for me to drink its deliciousness. I pop it open and take a long swallow, humming when it hits my taste buds. Reluctantly, I set the can down and I uncover my plate, smelling the yellow bell pepper stuffed to the brim with vegetables before I pop it in the microwave for a few minutes. The ding of the timer makes my mouth water. Not even bothering to go into the dining room, I take the plate and sit on the barstool to eat.

After devouring my dinner, I sit, with my hunger satisfied, savoring the last bit of my soda. I’m in mid-swallow with the can still up to my lips when Mr. Garrett walks into the kitchen catching me off guard. I completely forget myself and watch as he approaches me, turning when he comes near so that my body’s facing him while he stands in front of my barstool. He eyes the Coke still in my hand and I’m unsure if I was actually supposed to have it. I bite my bottom lip in uncertainty as I stare up at him. He sighs loudly, allowing his eyes to drift down to my mouth.

“You frustrate the hell out of me,” he says. His eyes move back up to meet mine and I see the storm that is brewing inside them. “What do I have to do to make you give in to