Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 50402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 252(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 252(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
“Exactly. You’ve created quite the stir in the bank when you’ve visited with your… companion.”
“Mr. Harris, I would urge you to reconsider targeting Ivy because of her association with the Shadowridge Guardians. I, for one, won’t leave my money with a bank that discriminates against a talented bank officer due to who she chooses as friends,” Steele said firmly.
“I’m sorry to hear that… Sir. I’m sure you’ll find another bank more to your liking,” Mr. Harris suggested.
“Who’s in charge of the board now that Mr. Morton is in jail?” Ivy demanded.
“They have made me the interim board president as the board searches for a replacement,” Mr. Harris said, puffing out his chest with obvious self-importance.
“I will contact the board’s secretary on Monday to schedule a meeting,” Ivy said firmly.
“I’m afraid it will be a very long time before we deal with inconsequential matters. The board will focus on rebuilding,” Mr. Harris said, sealing her fate. “Would you like to give me your verbal notice?”
“No, thank you, Mr. Harris,” Ivy answered, barely keeping it under control at the audacity of the bank officer.
“You may rethink that decision at any time this weekend. Just leave a message on my voicemail at the bank,” he encouraged as he turned to walk out of the motorcycle repair shop.
Steele stepped forward, and the weasel took a step away, bumping into a workbench and wiping grease onto his immaculate suit jacket. Mr. Harris focused on that with a tsk of disapproval. He pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket to dab at the stain, spreading it and turning a corner of the pristine cloth gray.
Muttering about the blotch and the cleaning bill, Mr. Harris walked out of the repair shop without a look behind him.
“You want me to make sure his fancy car doesn’t run on Monday morning?” Talon sneered.
“While that pleases me to imagine his reaction, I think there’s a better way to handle Mr. Harris,” Steele responded, chopping off any retribution plans.
“Really? What are we going to do?” Ivy asked.
“It’s better that you don’t know,” Steele told her.
“Don’t do anything to get yourself in trouble, Steele. That won’t help my case that I’m not hanging with the wrong kind of people,” Ivy warned quickly.
“I’ll take care of him.”
Ivy talked to him until she was hoarse. Steele wouldn’t explain what he had in mind, and the others professed their lack of knowledge.
By dinnertime, she’d decided that maybe her arguments had finally sunk into Steele’s brain and he’d reconsidered. The group hung out together in the common room as normal. No one mentioned Mr. Harris, the bank, or Ivy’s job. She relaxed a bit and enjoyed the tough banter she’d learned covered a deep commitment to each other.
Ivy loved being here with Steele. She could sit on his lap and no one commented. He could pull her close for a kiss or send her over to get a napkin and swat her bottom sharply. No one even seemed to notice—or if they did, their response was an indulgent smile or a grouchy comment about needing to find their own Little.
Since it was Friday night, Steele allowed Ivy to stay up past her bedtime. Finally, her yawns won out, and she cuddled against his chest. Looping her hands around his neck, she clung to Steele as he carried her back to his apartment as everyone wished her a good night. She waved lazily and stayed in that foggy, almost asleep state as Steele undressed her and tucked her into bed. Ivy listened to Steele move around the room quietly until she couldn’t keep her sweet dreams away.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
“Daddy?” Ivy reached a hand out to search for Steele’s warmth. He always slept wrapped around her when she woke up in the dark. His side of the bed was cold.
Ivy pushed herself up on one elbow to look around. The bedroom was completely silent, and she didn’t hear anything from the adjoining sitting room. Heeding her need to use the restroom, she crept into the bathroom, thankful for the nightlight he always turned on for her.
Still no response from the protective man as she emerged from the bathroom. Opening the cracked door separating the bedroom and the family room, Ivy called, “Daddy?” The room was completely empty.
“Where’d you go?” she asked aloud and then felt silly for talking to no one.
She couldn’t go out in the main area dressed in an oversized T-shirt and no panties. Quickly, Ivy turned on a light and pulled some clothes out of one drawer where Steele had stowed some of her clothes. She’d protested that she didn’t need three of the four drawers in his dresser, but he’d just laughed.
“Little girls have lots of pretty clothes. Your Daddy doesn’t.”
It made sense when she looked at it that way. Steele wore the same thing every day. Battered jeans with spark marks burned into the fabric, T-shirts that fit snug across his muscular chest, and leather boots completed his look before he donned the heavy leather welding apron. Ivy did need a variety of things to wear.