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

Chapter 12

Garrett

She whimpers softly, desire clouding her vision. “I want you, Daddy.”

I force myself to step back. “Be a good girl, Skylar, and Daddy will take care of you later. I'll make that sweet pussy of yours shake and moan.”

She pouts, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Promise, Daddy?”

“Oh, baby, I promise. But you've got to earn it. Be a good girl, listen to Daddy, and later, I'll give you more of what you need.”

Skylar stands, her movements fluid as she steps closer. Her hand on my chest scorches me. “I want to be a good girl, Daddy. But you make it so hard.”

“Do I, babygirl?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She leans in, her breath warm against my neck. “You make me so wet, Daddy. I ache for you.”

I grit my teeth, my hands balling into fists as I fight to maintain control. “Tease,” I growl, my voice rough with barely contained desire.

Skylar giggles, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. Her eyes dance with mischief as she presses closer. “Maybe I am, Daddy. But you like it, don't you?”

I feel her hand slip inside my pants, her fingers wrapping around my cock. Her touch is electric, and I hiss out a breath, my body tensing.

“Skylar, what?—?”

“Shh, Daddy,” she whispers, her hot breath tickling my ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Her fingers squeeze me, and I struggle to maintain composure. “You like that, Daddy? You like my hand on your big, hard cock?”

“Fuck, baby,” I groan, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. “You know I do.”

She strokes me slowly, her touch teasing and gentle. “Does it feel good, Daddy? Having your babygirl touch you like this?”

“So good, Skylar. But you know what I really want.” I'm rock-hard, my cock throbbing with need. I crave her mouth, her heat.

“I know, Daddy.” She leans in, her lips brushing my ear. “But I want to tease you first. Make you beg for it. Like you do to me.”

“You little minx,” I growl, my eyes closing as she tightens her grip. “You're playing with fire, babygirl.”

“I know, Daddy,” she purrs, her breath hot against my skin. “But I like it when you burn for me.”

I can't suppress my smile at her boldness. This feisty, passionate woman is mine, and I intend to keep her. “You're going to be the death of me, Skylar Bennett.”

“Not yet, Daddy,” she whispers, her fingers tightening around me. “I need you too much for that.”

I groan, my body thrumming with desire. “You need to stop, babygirl, or we won't make it out of this office.”

She chuckles, the sound sending shivers down my spine. “You don't want me, Daddy? Right here, right now?”

“God, you know how much I want you,” I admit, my voice hoarse and raw. “But we can't, not here. It's too risky.”

Her gaze darkens, desire smoldering in her eyes. “You started this, Daddy. Now I want to see how far you're willing to go.”

I clench my jaw, desire warring with restraint. “You know I want you, babygirl. But this isn't the time or place.”

She pouts, her lower lip jutting out in a way that makes my fingers itch to touch her, to remind her who she belongs to. “Why not, Daddy? We're alone. You even wedged the chair under the handle.”

I take a steadying breath, willing my body to calm”Because it's still risky. That chair won't hold forever if someone really wants to get in, and we'd be?—”

“So we'll be quick,” she interrupts, her voice husky and full of promise. “Let me take care of you, Daddy. Just for a few minutes.”

Her fingers dance along my belt, and my body responds, my cock throbbing with need. Damn, she knows what she does to me. I grit my teeth, fighting against the overwhelming urge to give in.

“Skylar, stop,” I warn, my voice strained.

With every ounce of willpower I possess, I step back, creating a necessary but painful distance between us.

“When I pulled you in here, it was to make sure you ate and took a breather. We've been distracted for far too long.”

Her eyes flash with disappointment, but there's a promise of more to come in her sultry smile. “But it was worth it, wasn't it, Daddy?”

“Always,” I agree, my voice husky. Then I add with a playful, yet authoritative tone, “But you don't want to get caught like this, do you, babygirl? The setup crew is waiting, and people are probably looking for you as we speak.”

Reluctantly, I release her, the loss of contact almost painful. “Come on, let's make you presentable again. Can't have you looking thoroughly debauched, can we?”

Skylar nods, adjusting her dress and smoothing the fabric over her curves. She looks incredible, her hair tousled, her cheeks flushed, and her lips swollen from my kisses. My mark is on her, and I want to keep her like this forever.

“Go show them what you're made of,” I say, brushing a soft kiss across her lips. “I'll be right here if you need me.”

I might be a bull in a china shop out there, but here with Skylar? I can do this. I can be what she needs, even if it means enduring a thousand more incomprehensible art pieces to keep her safe and happy.

Because Skylar? She's the masterpiece I've been waiting for all my life.

As we exit the office, the bustling energy of the exhibition hits us like a wave. Despite the sudden shift in atmosphere, my focus remains solely on Skylar. My babygirl. My everything.

As we're about to rejoin the fray, a hesitant voice breaks through the din behind us.

“Mr. Hayes?”

I turn, my body tensing instinctively. A nervous-looking assistant hovers nearby, clutching a tablet to his chest like a shield.

“Yes?” I ask, keeping my voice level and steady.

“There's an issue with your car, sir,” he stammers. “It's blocking a delivery at the loading dock. They need you to move it right away.”

I frown. My car is in the designated spot; I'm sure of it. But arguing won't solve anything. “I'll take care of it.”

The loading area is quieter than the main gallery, the excited chatter replaced by the beeping of a reversing truck.

A lone figure in a delivery uniform stands by my car, his back to me, but his posture is all wrong. He's too alert. This isn't about my car at all.

“That your car?” he asks gruffly, pointing to my vehicle.

I nod, reaching for my keys. “Problem with my parking?”

The man smiles, all teeth and no warmth. “I was admiring your ride. Reminds me of one I used to have. Back when life was simpler.”

I play along, my tone casual but my nerves on edge. “Is that so? Quite a coincidence.”

“Life's full of them,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine. “Beautiful things, coincidences. Beautiful things are often fragile, wouldn't you agree?”

My jaw tightens. “I don't believe we've met. You new around here? You look familiar.”

He chuckles, the sound devoid of humor. “Oh, I get that a lot. Must have one of those faces, you know?”

I hold his gaze, refusing to rise to the bait. “Well, I'll be sure to move my car. Wouldn't want to cause any trouble.”

The man's eyes harden, though his smile remains fixed. “Trouble has a way of finding people in our line of work. Even those who think they're untouchable.”

I meet his gaze steadily, my words measured. “Funny thing about trouble—it has a way of finding its way home. Often with interest.”

For a moment, the fa?ade drops, and I see the cold calculation in his eyes. Then the smile is back, brittle as glass. “Indeed it does. Enjoy the exhibition. I hear it's going to be memorable.”

I watch him go, my mind racing.

Memorable faces? Bullshit. This is a Scarpetta man, no doubt about it. But why the charade? What game is he playing?

I pull out my phone and dial George's number.

George's voice comes through, sounding distracted. “What's up?”

“We have a problem.”

I recount the encounter at the loading dock, my words clipped and urgent. “It was a Scarpetta man, I'm sure of it. They're circling, George. We can't ignore this anymore.”

George sighs. “We've been over this. The Scarpettas are all talk.”

“All talk?” I spit out. “This guy was at Skylar's gallery. He made thinly veiled threats about 'beautiful things being fragile. We need to tell her what's going on.”

“Tell her what exactly?” There's a pause, then a sigh. “Maybe you're reading too much into things.”

My free hand clenches into a fist. “It wasn't just some delivery guy. He knew things, George. He?—”

“What things, Garrett? What exactly did he say that proves he's Scarpetta?”

“I know what I saw, George. This wasn't just a vague threat. They're watching her, and they're not being subtle about it,” I insist, my voice rising.

“So, no actual proof then?” George's dismissive tone grates on my nerves.

I grit my teeth, frustration building. “I know what I saw, George. We need to tell Skylar the truth. We can't take chances with her safety!”

“And we're not,” George says firmly. “But I won't have you filling Skylar's head with baseless fears. Unless you have concrete evidence, this conversation is over.”

The call ends, leaving me feeling more alone than ever. I lean against the wall, looking back toward where Skylar is living her dream, unaware of the dangers closing in.

How am I supposed to protect her when I can't even tell her what she's up against?

I close my eyes, weighing my options. Should I tell Skylar everything and risk her relationship with George? Or should I keep quiet, maintain the status quo, and leave her vulnerable?

Neither choice feels right.

I push off the wall, my decision made—even if it means going behind George's back.

I consider using Apex's security team, but quickly dismiss the idea. They report directly to George, and I need this to be completely off the radar.

This has to be my operation, separate from the company, to ensure Skylar's safety without raising suspicions.

No, I need someone I can trust implicitly. Someone with no ties to Apex Solutions.

I dial a number I haven't used in years, my finger hovering over the call button for a moment before I press it. After three rings, a familiar gruff voice answers.

“Asher Morgan.”

“Asher, it's Garrett Hayes,” I say, relief washing over me at hearing my old friend's voice.

“Hayes? It's been a while. What's the situation?” Asher's tone immediately shifts to all-business, reminding me why I called him in the first place.

Asher Morgan, a former Navy SEAL and current head of Black Aces Security, isn't just any security contractor. We served together years ago, before he transitioned into black ops. If anyone can handle this delicate situation, it's him.

“I need a favor, off the books,” I explain, lowering my voice. “I require around-the-clock security for Skylar Bennett, starting immediately. It needs to be discreet. And it needs to be completely separate from Apex Solutions.”

There's a pause as Asher processes my request. “Understood. I'll have a team in place within the hour. You'll get a full brief on encrypted channels.”

“Thanks, Ash. I owe you one.”

“You owe me several, Hayes,” he chuckles, then his voice turns serious. “But I've got your back. Always have, always will.”

As I end the call, a weight lifts off my shoulders. At least now, Skylar has an extra layer of protection, even if she's unaware of it. It's not a perfect solution, but it's something. And with Asher's team watching over her, I can breathe a little easier.

I weave through the bustling crowd, the clamor of last-minute preparations filling the air. Skylar spots me.

“Everything okay?” she asks, raising her voice over the din of a nearby drill.

I hesitate, torn between protecting her and being honest. “A mix-up,” I lie, hating myself for it. “All sorted.”

As I hold Skylar in my arms, her delicate frame fits perfectly against my chest. Desire and fear course through me. I can't shake the worry gnawing at me.

“You okay?” Skylar asks, her voice muffled against my chest.

I run my fingers through her soft hair, cherishing this moment together. “I'm perfect, babygirl. Just admiring you.”

She pulls back, her bright green eyes sparkling with curiosity. “What's gotten into you?”

I cup her face in my hands, taking in every detail of her beauty. “I am so grateful to have you in my life.”

Skylar grins, leaning into my touch. “Aww, are you getting sappy on me?”

I chuckle, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Can't help it. You bring it out in me.”

She wraps her arms around my waist, nuzzling closer. “I like it. Makes me feel special.”

“You are special.” The thought of openly showing our affection in public makes my heart swell with longing. “I can't wait for the day we can tell everyone about us. Your dad included.”

Her eyes widen in surprise. “You mean that?”

I nod, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I want the world to know that you're mine.”

She beams. “Oh, Daddy, I?—”

“Skylar? Are you here?” George's voice cuts through the gallery like a knife.

Skylar and I spring apart, the warmth of her body leaving me instantly. That was too close.

Skylar's demeanor changes instantly as her father approaches. Her shoulders tense, and the easy smile she wore moments ago vanishes. The contrast between the confident, passionate woman I held in my arms and this anxious version of Skylar is stark.

“Over here!” Skylar calls out, her voice higher than usual.

George steps into view, his eyes darting between us. When his eyes meet mine again, there's an unfamiliar coldness there. “Garrett.” George nods at me, his tone clipped.

Does he see the guilty flush on Skylar's cheeks? The way my hands clench at my sides, itching to pull her close again? “George.” I nod, keeping my voice neutral.

Skylar shifts uncomfortably beside me, a good foot of space now between us. “What are you doing here?”

“I'd love to see what you've been working on. Do you have time to give me a quick tour?” George asks, placing a hand on Skylar's shoulder.

The gesture seems almost possessive, and I have to resist the urge to step between them.

Skylar nods, a little too eagerly. “Of course, Dad. I'd be happy to.”

George's sudden appearance surprises me. He's barely shown any interest in Skylar's art before now. Is he finally taking my warnings about the Scarpettas seriously? Or is there another reason he's here?

George turns to me. “Why don't you join us for dinner tonight? We have some business to discuss.”

The invitation sounds more like a summons. “Of course. I need to wrap up a few things at the office, but I’ll be there.”

George nods, a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. “See you at seven.”

As George leads Skylar away, I get the distinct feeling that something has shifted. The way he guides her seems a little too protective.

As they walk away, Skylar glances over her shoulder. I give her a reassuring nod, even as my gut clenches. George might not have caught us in the act, but he definitely suspects something.

Tonight's dinner feels like a trap. But I won't let George scare me or get between Skylar and me. Whatever he's planning, I'll be ready.