Stealing Daddy’s Heart (Daddy’s Good Girl)

Chapter 1

Garrett

I stand by the floor-to-ceiling windows of George's mansion, eyes sweeping over the manicured gardens and the invisible security perimeter beyond.

Old habits die hard. Inside, the crowd mingles, oblivious to the potential threats lurking outside.

Senator Whitman approaches, his smile strained. “Mr. Hayes, a word?”

I nod, noting the tension in his shoulders. “Of course, Senator.”

He leans in, bourbon on his breath. “About that sensitive problem. You know how rumors fly in this city.”

“Apex Solutions has it handled,” I assure him, my voice low. “Your indiscretion stays buried.”

Relief floods his face. He nods and melts back into the party.

George's mansion is all marble, gold, and priceless art. Guests gather in small groups, their laughter and conversation a low hum beneath the soft strains of the string quartet.

I weave through the crowd catching snippets of conversation—stock prices, yacht purchases, the latest scandal in high society.

This place screams 'untouchable'. A safe place where deals are made with handshakes, not bullets. But I know better. No one is untouchable—not even George Bennett, Apex Solutions co-founder and city powerbroker.

My gaze sweeps over the crowd, every movement calculated under the weight of the Scarpettas' recent “visit” to our offices.

Apex Solutions has a strict code—we don’t work for criminals, and the Scarpettas’ request for protection was no exception. They didn't take our refusal well. Their veiled threats still echo in my mind, sharpening my focus on every face, every gesture in the room.

Nothing seems out of place, but that almost makes it worse. The most dangerous threat is the one you can’t see coming.

George's booming voice cuts through my reverie as he approaches, a too-wide smile plastered on his face. “Garrett! There you are, you old workhorse.”

I turn to my longtime friend and business partner, fighting to keep the worry from my voice. “George, we need to talk.”

George chuckles, a sound that only further irritates the knot of tension in my gut. “Come on, loosen up. It's a party!”

Celebrating. That's what this is supposed to be. A grand homecoming for George's daughter, returning from her studies abroad. Skylar Bennett.

I press on, undeterred. “This is serious, George. They could be a real threat to?—”

“Not tonight.” George cuts me off with a wave of his hand. “Apex Solutions has the manpower, tactical equipment and powerful connections to rival any organized crime syndicate.”

George greets someone passing, but almost as an afterthought, he leans back and asks, “How's the Riverside building? Did you finalize the arrangements for my daughter’s exhibition?”

I switch gears, recognizing George's priorities. “It's taken care of. Discreet security is in place. Your daughter will be safe.”

“Perfect!” George's eyes light up with pride. “She's been struggling to find a venue. Told her I had a surprise planned. You think she'll like it?”

“She'll appreciate it,” I offer, though my mind is still spinning between the Scarpettas and Skylar.

“Good, good. We’ll get back to the commercial stuff after her show—I’m sure you’re wondering when construction could start. But just for now, this is for her.”

Thinking her name sends a jolt through me. It's been four years since I last saw Skylar, but she's been on my mind more than I'd like to admit.

My jaw clenches. “The Scarpettas are?—”

He claps my shoulder, already distracted by another partygoer. “Don’t worry so much. Trust me, old friend. We've faced worse in Kandahar, remember?”

A hush falls over the room, cutting me off. I follow George's gaze to the top of the grand staircase and feel the air leave my lungs.

Skylar.

Christ almighty.

She's a vision in a deep blue dress that hugs every curve. Her dark hair cascades over one shoulder, and her striking eyes confidently scan the room. She's no longer the awkward teenager I remember, but a stunning woman who commands attention.

Including mine.

A jolt of electricity courses through me, catching me completely off guard. I shouldn't be looking at her like this. And yet, I can't tear my eyes away.

“Beautiful, isn't she?” George beams, oblivious to my internal struggle. “I can't believe my little girl's all grown up.”

I grunt in response, unable to form words. He rushes forward to embrace her, leaving me rooted to the spot, still reeling.

As Skylar gracefully works the room, a new worry gnaws at me. Her public profile as an influencer and art promoter, her connection to Apex Solutions through George—she's exposed, vulnerable. Could the Scarpettas see her as a pressure point? The thought makes my blood run cold.

I force myself to circulate, nodding mechanically as a Senator drones on about market trends. But my attention is constantly drawn to Skylar.

She laughs at something someone says, the sound carrying over the crowd. It's musical, carefree–and it hits me like a punch to the gut.

Suddenly, she's making her way toward me, and my heart rate spikes. So much for years of special ops training keeping me calm under pressure.

“Garrett,” she says, those blue eyes locking onto mine. “It's been far too long.”

I clear my throat, aiming for nonchalance and missing by a mile. “Welcome home.”

Skylar's lips curve into a smirk. “Thanks. You haven't changed a bit, you know. Still brooding in corners at parties.”

I can't help the low chuckle that escapes me at the reference to our last meeting. “Some things never change.”

“And some things do,” Skylar counters, her gaze sweeping over me in a way that makes my skin prickle with heat. “I'm not the kid you remember, Garrett.”

No shit. The thought races through my mind, followed quickly by guilt. This is George's daughter, for Christ's sake. My best friend's little girl. Off limits in every way that matters.

I clear my throat, searching for safer ground. “Congratulations on your graduation. I thought you were studying to become an artist. But you changed direction?”

She smiles. “That was the plan, but I discovered I have a knack for bringing people together, for seeing the big picture. It just clicked. So I started organizing shows instead.”

“Your father tells me you're making waves as an art promoter.”

Skylar's eyes glimmer with a playful, almost dangerous energy.“Small ripples for now. But I'm working on it. I've got a big exhibition coming up that could really launch my career. It’s art that’s going to push some boundaries, though.”

There's a slow, languid way she toys with the rim of her glass that tells me exactly the kind of boundaries she's talking about. Nothing safe. Nothing tame.

“What do you mean?” I ask, although I already suspect the answer.

She smirks, glancing up at me through her lashes. “Let's just say, it isn’t the type of gallery showing you bring your more conservative relatives to.”

Her lips curl with that deliberate teasing, the kind that tells me she knows exactly where my thoughts are going.

I keep my expression neutral, but my chest tightens. Whatever she's curating, it's going to stir more than intellectual debates. A high-profile event, Skylar in the spotlight–it's exactly the kind of vulnerability I've been worrying about.

But before I can voice my concerns, she continues. “I think you'll appreciate it. It challenges the typical notion of restraint and release.”

“Sounds interesting,” I manage, my voice steady despite the heat coursing through me.

“That's the idea.” She grins. “Art should challenge people, make them uncomfortable sometimes. Don't you think?”

I'm struck by the irony. Here she is, talking about making people uncomfortable, completely unaware of the turmoil she's causing in me.

“Art isn't frivolous,” I find myself saying. “It's essential. Especially in times like these.”

Skylar's eyebrows shoot up. “Wow. A compliment? Who are you, and what have you done with Garrett Hayes?”

I laugh, surprising myself. For a moment, I forget about the danger lurking at the edges of this glittering party. I'm simply a man talking to a beautiful, passionate woman who makes him feel alive in a way he hasn't in years.

“Maybe I've changed a bit too,” I admit, letting my guard down for just a second.

Skylar's smile softens, and she reaches out, her fingers brushing my arm. The touch sends a jolt through me, and I have to fight the urge to pull her closer.

“I'm glad you're here, Garrett,” she says softly. “It's good to see you.”

The way she says it makes my blood run hot. I want to sweep her away from this crowd, someplace we can be alone. The thought is insane, forbidden.

“Skylar,” I start, my voice low and intense. “Your exhibition?—”

But before I can voice my concerns, we're interrupted by the sound of a fork tapping against glass. George stands at the center of the room, his face beaming with pride.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he begins, his voice carrying easily over the crowd. “I want to thank you all for coming tonight to welcome home my beautiful daughter, Skylar.”

He gestures toward her, and all eyes turn to where she stands, radiant in the soft glow of the chandelier.

Skylar looks at me, regret in her eyes. “Duty calls. We'll catch up later?”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Skylar smiles at me before turning back to the party. I watch her go, my chest tight, my desire unquenched and my judgment clouded.

My instincts scream to get back on my game–there’s a dangerous world lurking beyond these walls.

A commotion near the entrance catches my attention. I spot one of our security team, his hand to his earpiece, a look of concern on his face. Alarm bells ring in my head.

As I make my way to the guard, George launches into a speech about Skylar's homecoming and her upcoming exhibition. I half-listen, my focus split between George's words and the new threat that's just spooked our team.

“Sir,” the guard murmurs as I approach. “We've got a situation outside. Unauthorized vehicle, heavily tinted windows. It circled the block twice before parking across the street.”

My jaw tenses. It could be nothing. Or it could be them— the Scarpettas, testing my reaction. Sending a message. Either way, I'm not taking chances. Not with Skylar here.

George's voice pulls me back into the room. “Your talent, your passion, your drive—they inspire me every day,” he says, eyes misting. “And I can't wait to see what you'll achieve with your upcoming exhibition. To Skylar, and to her bright future!”

I raise my glass, my mind racing. George's words hang in the air, and with them, a risk. I scan the crowd for any sign of threat.

My gaze drifts back to Skylar. Instinct, maybe more, draws me to her. Her lips part, a blush rises on her neck.

I clear my throat, refocusing. “Double the patrol,” I tell the guard behind me. “Watch that vehicle. Report any movement, coming or going.”

I set my empty glass on a passing tray. My hand shakes. I need to focus. Everything depends on me staying in control.

For the first time in years, I'm struggling to put duty first.

How did it get so tangled so fast? The Scarpettas, Skylar's new spotlight, the tension I feel when I look at her—it all threatens to break me.

I try to push it down. But I'm in trouble. Deep and inescapable.

I'll do whatever it takes to protect Skylar. From the Scarpettas, from her growing fame—and from myself if I have to.