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

window at the back lawn. I just realized how I always look for her when I walk in. That’s going to be a hard habit to break when she leaves.

Last night, I found myself thinking of reasons to get her to stay. After everything she’s been through, I was still fighting with myself to hold her to the contract she signed. The only thing keeping me from doing it is knowing she’ll be better off without me, so I tore it up. She didn’t say a word when she saw it in pieces on the kitchen counter this morning. She just threw it away.

“I’m sorry that what I’m going through is bringing up bad memories for all of you,” she says, turning to face me.

“I’m not, but I would give anything for you not to have to go through it.”

“Maybe it will bring me closer to my mom.”

“Yes, in Montreal. You’re moving in with her?”

“I, um, I’m not sure, maybe. I don’t want to leave my friends.”

“Your friends?”

“Matt, Leslie, Bree… you.”

“I’m not your friend. I’m your Dom.”

“But you tore up the contract. Why can’t we be friends?”

“That wouldn’t exactly work. I wouldn’t feel very friendly toward you. I’d want to take you to my playroom and fuck you. Friends are useless.”

“Is it that big of an inconvenience just to hang out with people?”

“Adults with responsibilities don’t hang out, Sydney. I have work acquaintances and submissives, that’s all I have room for in my life.”

“Why are you talking to me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m some kid who you’re trying to talk out of getting a piece of candy or something.”

“You are a kid.”

“Oh, now I’m a kid? So, I’m not the same girl you’ve been doing stuff with all this time?”

“You were a kid then. I just couldn’t help myself. Enough time has passed to where I can see things clearer now.”

“In other words, you’re bored with me.”

“No, nothing like that, don’t be stupid,” I tell her.

I can’t believe she could think something like that. Bored with her. I want her so much I can’t even fucking breathe.

“What else could there be?”

“I’m not the man for you. More importantly, I’m not the man you need. I’m almost forty.”

“You’re thirty-five and so what if you were forty? I can be friends with a forty-year-old who’s a great guy.”

“You’re right back at it. You’re like a dog with a fucking bone. Jesus Christ, what do I have to do to convince you? I’m not a great guy, Sydney. I’m an asshole. I was seriously thinking about delaying your father’s trial to keep you here. That’s how much of an asshole I am. He’s dead because of me and still, you won’t see it.”

“Now, you’re the one that’s being stupid. My father’s dead because some bastard stabbed him. God, why do you twist everything around like that? You didn’t kill anybody.”

“I could have refused to press charges if I wasn’t so worried about my own ass. That’s not even the truth.”

I walk away from her, hoping the distance will allow me to breathe easier, but of course, she’s right behind me.

“What is the truth?”

“I was jealous of him,” I say, turning around to face her again. “Of Roger.”

“Why?” She frowns.

“Because he had something that I didn’t and I hated him for it.”

“He only had it because he worked for you. Whatever he had, you could have easily gotten.”

“He had you, Sydney. Your days, your nights, your weekends, your time, your body, your affection. He had it and I wanted it. Listening to him brag about being with you pissed me off.”

“But he was my dad. It’s not the same. You know it’s not the same thing.”

“I realize that and it’s over. I’m not jealous of him anymore.”

“Because he’s dead, or because you got a part of me that he couldn’t possibly have?”

“It’s not because he’s dead, believe me.”

“I do, but I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”

“It makes it what it is. Just add it to the many reasons why this will never work between us.”

“Why can’t friendship work?”

“To hell with the friendship shit, okay? It’s never going to happen. I don’t want you as a fucking friend, so this is over. It’s done. We’re done. Move on because you sound pathetic.”

“Wow. I sound pathetic. Is that really what you think?”

“What else am I supposed to think when you won’t take no for an answer? It’s pathetic.”

“I won’t take no for an answer. Man, you’re a piece of work.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

She stares at me, searching for something in my eyes, but I refuse to let her see anything other than what I’m trying to convince her of.

“I guess you really don’t care about me,” she whispers.

“Hallelujah, you finally get it.”

Her shoulders fall as she nods her head in acceptance. My hands are itching to hold her face and tell her what a complete lie that is, that I’m a fucking liar, but I care about her too much to do that.

“I’ll just go to my room. I still have a lot of packing to do.”

She quickly heads upstairs and I’m left watching her go. I feel sick to my stomach. My chest is tight and I’m finding it hard to breathe again. I fight the urge to call her back, to take back everything I just said and beg her to forgive me, to beg her to stay, but I don’t. I stand there and watch her go. For once in my life, I’m going to prove that I’m not my father’s son and let her go be happy.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I have all my bags packed. It’s really just the one I came here with, but with a few sentimental things like the blue bikini I wore at Carmel-by-the-Sea, my leash with the collars, and Mr. Garrett’s handkerchiefs that are back around my rabbit’s neck. He’s insistent that I take everything, but what would I possibly do with