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

Chapter 13

Garrett

I step into the lavish dining room at George’s mansion, the conversation dying as three pairs of eyes turn to me.

“Ah, Garrett. So glad you could join us,” George's voice drips with sarcasm.

I glance at the ornate clock on the mantel. 7:22 PM. I force a smile. “Traffic was a nightmare. My apologies.”

George's eyes bore into me. Does he know? The way his jaw clenches, I'm almost certain he does.

Vanessa floats over, champagne flute in hand. “Oh, don't be such a grump, George. We're all here now.”

She kisses my cheek, oblivious to the undercurrent of hostility. I spot Skylar across the room. Our eyes lock for a moment before I tear my gaze away.

“Dinner's ready,” Vanessa announces.

I take my seat across from Skylar, acutely aware of George looming at the head of the table. The air feels thick, charged with unspoken accusations.

Tonight's the night, I remind myself. I have to force George's hand–either he tells Skylar about the Scarpettas, or I will.

I can't let Skylar continue believing her secret benefactor is real when it's all a ploy to force George and me to work for the Scarpettas.

Vanessa, oblivious to the undercurrent, chatters about a charity event as she serves the food. Her cheerfulness only highlights George's ominous silence.

I glance at Skylar, noting how she's just pushing food around her plate. The worry in her eyes mirrors my unease.

Suddenly, George speaks, cutting off Vanessa mid-sentence. “Actually, I stopped by the gallery earlier today.”

I freeze, my fork suspended midway to my mouth. Here it comes. How much has he figured out?

George's gaze is piercing. “Yes. I wanted to see how things were progressing. Imagine my surprise when I found you there, Garrett. Again.”

I open my mouth to respond, but Skylar chimes in, bright and enthusiastic. “Oh, it's been amazing, Dad! Garrett's been so helpful.”

George's tone is measured, but there's an edge to it. “You two have been spending quite a bit of time together lately, haven't you?”

Skylar nods. “I don't know what I'd do without him.”

I force myself to chew and swallow, grateful for the momentary distraction. George's eyes flick to me, and I meet his gaze steadily, despite the guilt churning in my stomach.

I won't back down. “The exhibition is shaping up well. Skylar's vision for the show is really coming together.”

Skylar continues, her voice light and enthusiastic, “He's been an absolute lifesaver, Dad. You should see how he handles all the logistics–it's impressive.”

I clear my throat, desperate to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters. “It's nothing. Just doing my job.”

But George isn't letting it go. His eyes narrow as he looks between us. “And your actual work, Garrett? The security contracts? The new clients?”

“Everything's on track,” I assure him.

George's tone is clipped, almost condescending as he asks, “And the Edgewater contract? Any progress there?”

The question catches me off guard. The Edgewater project is a sensitive issue, one we usually discuss in private. “We're in negotiations. It's a complex situation, as you know.”

George's eyes narrow. “Complex? Or are you just not giving it the attention it deserves?”

The accusation stings. “I'm on top of things.”

“Is that right?” George's voice drips with sarcasm. “Then why did I have to handle that meeting with the new tech startup last week? The one you were supposed to attend?”

A flush of shame creeps up my neck. I missed that meeting. I was helping Skylar with a gallery crisis.

“That was an oversight on my part,” I admit, resenting his tone. I am not his employee. We are partners. “It won't happen again.”

George's eyes narrow. “See that it doesn't. We can't afford distractions right now, Garrett. Not with what's at stake.”

I've busted my ass on that project, and George knows it. But before I can respond, Skylar jumps in.

“Dad,” she says, her voice sharp. “Garrett's been working incredibly hard. On everything.”

I appreciate her defense, but I can see it only irritates George further. His jaw tightens as he turns to her. “This is business, Skylar. You wouldn't understand.”

I wince at his dismissive tone, seeing hurt flash across Skylar's face before she masks it. Vanessa, sensing the growing tension, attempts to intervene.

“Skylar, darling, tell us more about your exhibition. Your dad was telling me all about it after visiting you this afternoon. It sounds so exciting,” she says, her smile brittle.

Grateful for the change of subject, I turn to Skylar. “Yes, why don't you tell them about the new sculptor you've signed? The one who works with recycled steel?”

George grunts in response, his attention fixed on cutting his steak with unnecessary force.

Skylar hesitates, her eyes flicking between her father and me.

“Well,” she begins, her voice softer than before, “his name is Wolf Winters. He creates these incredible sculptures using recycled steel and industrial scrap. He transforms discarded machinery and metal waste into these powerful, abstract forms.”

She pauses, her enthusiasm growing. “Each piece tells a story of rebirth, giving new life to materials that were once considered useless. It's not just art; it's a statement about sustainability and the beauty that can be found in what others discard.”

As Skylar speaks, her passion begins to override her discomfort. Her eyes light up, her hands moving animatedly as she describes Wolf's work.

As the meal progresses, I notice George's irritation mounting with small things: Skylar leaning close to me as we laugh together, or her referencing something private from our recent conversations. Each instance seems to grate on him, his jaw tightening, his grip on his fork growing white-knuckled.

Finally, as Vanessa begins clearing the plates, George's patience snaps. “Skylar, why don't you help your stepmother in the kitchen?”

It's not a request. Skylar hesitates, glancing between us with concern, but ultimately nods and follows Vanessa out.

The moment they’re gone, George turns to me, his eyes blazing. I brace myself, knowing what’s coming. “My office. Now.”

It’s not a request but a command, and I know better than to argue. I straighten my shoulders, steeling myself for the confrontation that has been brewing all evening.

As we enter his study, George doesn’t even wait for the door to close before rounding on me.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Garrett?”

I take a deep breath, fighting to keep my voice calm. “George, I understand your concerns, but?—”

“Concerns?” he scoffs. “You're my best friend, and now you're what, eyeing my daughter like she's some prize to be won?”

His words hit me like a physical blow, striking at the very doubts I've been wrestling with for weeks.

“It's not like that,” I insist, my composure cracking. “Skylar's not a child anymore. She's grown into a strong, capable woman.”

George's eyes narrow dangerously. “So you admit it? You have feelings for her?”

“I never meant for this to happen,” I say quietly. “But I can't change how I feel about her. And I won't apologize for it.”

“And what about the Scarpettas?” George asks, his voice weary. “You think they won't use this against us? Against her?”

“All the more reason to be honest with her,” I argue. “She needs to know what she's up against. We can't keep her in the dark anymore.”

George's eyes flash with anger. “You're old enough to be her father, for Christ's sake!”

“You think this is easy for me?” I growl, taking a step toward him. “I tried fighting these feelings, George. But I can't deny them anymore.”

Something in George snaps. He shoves me hard, sending me stumbling. “You selfish bastard!” he roars.

Instinct takes over, and I retaliate, shoving him back. We grapple, crashing into his desk. Papers scatter, a lamp topples to the floor with a crash.

George gets me in a headlock, his arm crushing my windpipe. “You think you can just waltz in and take her from me?” he hisses.

I drive my elbow back, breaking his hold. We stumble apart, breathing heavily. “It's not about taking her from you,” I gasp. “She's not a possession, George. She's a grown woman who can make her own choices.”

“And you think you're the right choice for her?” George spits, wiping blood from his split lip. “You're going to ruin her life!”

Before I can respond, the door bursts open. Skylar rushes in, her eyes wide with shock as she takes in the scene before her. “What the hell is going on?” she demands, her gaze darting between us.