If he wants me for another night, why not?
The money is good. The sex is fantastic. And, after being with him, the words flowed like water.
Maybe he can make them flow again.
Like the arousal that’s now pooling between my thighs at the thought of seeing him again.
She gives an impatient sigh. “Katie? Are you still there?”
My throat feels tight and I gulp. “I’m here.”
“Good. Let me spell out the terms of the contract for you. Mr. Morrow has an elderly grandmother living in his hometown of Peach Orchard, Georgia.”
Peach Orchard? I try to picture stern, sexy Darius living somewhere with such a name. I can’t. “Okay.”
“She’s about to celebrate her eightieth birthday and though as feisty as they come, she’s constantly telling Darius that her days are numbered. She has one wish, one thing that she tells him would allow her to live out the rest of her days on this Earth in peace: to know that her oldest grandson is happily attached to a wonderful woman.”
“That’s… nice?” I’m not sure where I come into this charming story.
“Unfortunately, Mr. Morrow is very busy with his many enterprises and hasn’t time for dating. Thus, he’s been unable to find a suitable woman to share his life with.”
“I hear that,” I sigh, thinking of my previous year-long dry spell.
“Okay? Anyway, he’s paying her a visit for her birthday. And he’d like to ease her mind. Though Mr. Morrow is very clear that he dislikes dishonesty, he feels it may be worth pulling a bit of a ruse in order to bring his grandmother happiness.”
“I’m sorry, I still don’t see where I fit into this equation—”
“He’d like you to accompany him. As his fake fiancée.”
Her words ring in my mind, momentarily stunning me. I think of the tall, confident beauties that streamed through the halls of the casino last night. Anyone of them would do a fantastic job with their elegant manners, their poise. “He wants… me?”
“Yes. The trip will be two weeks. All of your expenses will be paid, your clothing provided, your meals taken care of. You will first arrive at Mr. Morrow’s penthouse for a few days to get more acquainted with him before the trip.”
I think of his big hands on my body, the orgasms that racked my soul. “And… what about sex?”
“I’ll leave that up to you two to discuss. Then we can amend the contract as we see fit. But for the trip, he’s offering two hundred thousand dollars. Half up front to be transferred directly into your bank account. The other half to be sent at the completion of the trip.”
Two. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars.
The most zeroes my bank account has ever seen is three. And that’s after an advance—one that disappears within a few weeks. “That’s… generous of him.”
She moves on to her next point. “It’s a small town. Conservative. Old fashioned. You’ll need to… blend in.”
“No problem.” I’m from a one stoplight town where nothing exciting ever happened and you called people ma’am and sir. Though I can’t picture Darius in a place called Peach Orchard, I’ll fit in just fine.
“Do we have an agreement?”
The answer leaves my mouth before I have a chance to think it over and make a responsible decision. “I’ll do it.”
“Good. The car will be there in an hour to collect you. Pack light. Everything will be chosen for you and prepared for your arrival.”
“An hour?”
“Is that a problem?”
Thanks to my introverted lifestyle, my calendar is completely blank, save for a dental cleaning next month. “Uh, no. I’ll just move a few things around—”
“Good. He’ll see you then.” The line dies.
I squash my face down into my pillow, muffling my scream, my feet kicking the bed with joy.
I’m suddenly filthy rich. And less than forty-eight hours after meeting him, I get to see him again.
My very own daddy dom.
Chapter 6
Darius
I pace in front of the window that overlooks the pools, as if somehow, I’ll conjure her up out of the sea of people below. Yesterday morning, I paid her and sent her home, but no sooner had the door clicked behind her than I regretted letting her go.
It’s a mistake I won’t make again.
I look at the horde of people below, but it’s no use. Even if she were one of the nameless, faceless dots, I couldn’t get to her fast enough.
After one sleepless night without her, I swallowed my pride and called Sugar Daddies.
Miranda said she’d be here this afternoon, and I will not fuck this up.
I’m down the hallway to the elevator before I know what I’m doing. The mirrored elevator shows me wide-eyed and desperate, and is my hair sticking up? Jesus. That woman has made me lose my mind. This isn’t me. This isn’t how I am.
I run my fingers through my hair, just as the elevator door slides open.
“Mr. Morrow. Where to, sir?”
“Parking lot, please.”
I don’t want anyone’s eyes on her but mine. I don’t want anyone’s hands on her but mine. I will pay whatever I have to so she doesn’t leave my side for the next two weeks.
“Parking lot, sir?” I have my personal lot, but never venture to the public ones.
“Yes,” I snap. I’m so on fucking edge. “Parking lot.”
“Right away, sir.”
I tap my foot impatiently and glance at my watch on the way down.
“When was this elevator last serviced?” I ask. This is taking way too long.
He blinks. “Last month, sir. They are the most efficient in the country, sir.”
I don’t reply but only clench my jaw and watch the numbers descend.
When I exit the elevator, I can feel the eyes of others on me. Curious. Nosy. I walk straight to the entryway to the parking lot and call the driver I assigned to Katie.
“Sir?”
“Meet me at the first bay.”
“Certainly. We’re ten minutes away.”
I have no plans for when I see her, other than to take her by the hand and lead her back to my room. I still can’t believe I let her slip out of my fingers.
Who am I kidding?
I have plans for her for days.
What am I doing?
I look around me at the opulence. Sometimes it’s hard to believe I own this, that it’s all mine. I grew up with such humble means, it feels a little surreal, even now. Lights glimmer in the distance, strains of music filter through speakers, and all around me are the sounds of high heels clicking, murmurs of conversation, the energy I’ve come to love that’s the heart of the city that never sleeps.
And a part of me wonders if the reason I love this city life is because it’s in such sharp contrast to the world I was born into. I can still see the small, rundown farmhouse I grew up in, the acres of land fenced in with the rickety, handmade railing that was my job to repair and maintain, the large, wide-opened space where I first learned I could control the trajectory of my life.
I trained hard on that field. I ran until I collapsed on the sweet, lush green grass. I worked the crops and honed my muscles, and by my senior year in high school, I towered above everyone, earning the respect of my peers and a free ticket to Notre Dame. I studied by the low, dim, yellow light of my grandmother’s ancient lamp and aced my classes. Moving to college, pursuing collegiate football, it was my first taste of success. My first taste of something bigger than small town life.