Daddy Issues 2 Read Online Dani Wyatt

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Forbidden Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 196085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 980(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
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I keep my eyes on the monitor as I speak into the phone. “Chastity Nash is a marketing intern here.”

“I can check, Mr. Carter. I don’t know the names of every intern…”

“That doesn’t matter. She’s on the fifth floor, wearing pink, her desk is next to the supply closet. Go get her. I want her in my private office. Now.”

CHAPTER 10

CHASTITY

Diary Entry…Today Seven AM

Dear Diary,

Why does this hurt so much? I barely knew him and I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER.

My stomach is in knots. I can’t eat. The place where my heart used to be feels like it’s been replaced by a rock. Doing anything is like slogging through drying cement. I want to curl up in my bed, pull the covers up and pretend it never happened.

If I had his last name, if I could find him I’d tell him what a jerk ass he is leaving me like that. An emergency? So, sure could be true but he was already half-way out the door.

Gah, I called him Daddy.

I wanted to have one Daddy in my life. I imagined when I said that to someone for the first time, it would be with a Daddy that would be with me forever. Silly girl.

The worst part? I still dreamed about him last night. Not the usual faceless Daddy that occupied my dreams in the past. Now, it’s Jack’s face. It’s Jack’s voice.

I woke up this morning after managing two hours of sleep still hearing his words from the dream…

‘Such a naughty girl you are walking around wearing your short skirt, bending over, teasing me. You have fun making me hard? Remember, you started this. You make Daddy do these things to you…’

Maybe I do need therapy. But, right now, what I need to do is get myself upright, showered and to work. Life goes on…

xoxo

I jerk awake after almost slamming my face into the computer keyboard in front of me to see a tall, balding security guard standing next to my desk. When he asks me to follow him, all employees’ eyes are on me and I know exactly what they’re thinking because I’m thinking it too.

I’m so fired.

Sleeping at my desk? Not a good look.

He takes me to what looks like a private elevator behind a locked door and we go up ten floors.

The doors swoosh open and I follow him down a glass corridor, then we turn right, left, left, right. All the office space we pass is empty and I have an uneasy feeling that multiplies around every corner.

I tried so hard to stay awake, I really did, but I’m just not sleeping at night.

The security guard turns a final corner and continues down a long, plush-carpeted hallway. Gone are the glass walls, replaced with dark walnut paneling and stark white paint. There are no other offices on either side, but at the end I see light glowing through etched opaque windows. He stops a few feet from the end of the hall, nodding toward a door.

“Knock, then go inside when instructed.”

“But… What—?"

He turns on the heel of his gleaming polished black patent-leather shoes and leaves without another word.

I turn back to the door, fussing with the hem of my sweater and admiring the intricate grain of the dark, solid wood in front of me.

With a sigh, I knock. It is the faintest sound, and I hope maybe the instruction to enter won’t come. Maybe I should just find my way back to my desk, grab my stuff and disappear.

To my disappointment, a low voice answers and my stomach drops.

“Come in.”

My heart thunders. There’s something familiar about the voice.

It takes a Herculean effort, but I finally open the door, holding onto it for a long moment. Floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides give a perfect view across the city and let in ample light for the enormous room. There’s a beige leather couch, a mature Ficus tree in a gleaming silver pot, a modern black desk and a wall of television screens like this is some sort of comic-book supervillain’s lair. Standing with his back to me as he stares out at the tops of the other buildings, is a figure of a man in a dark suit. The light streaming in from the windows around him makes him hazy and hard to define.

Maybe it’s Lex Luthor.

Swallowing against the nervousness strangling me, I step inside and the heavy walnut door closes with a swoosh and a click behind me.

I stand a few feet inside, unsure what to do with my hands, pushing them onto my hips, then dropping them at my sides, waiting for something to happen. A few seconds stretch and warp into what feels like hours as my body feels heavy and I can’t stop chewing on the inside of my lip.

I take a breath and finally squeak out a greeting. “Hello.”



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