Time Out (Daddies Know Best #5)

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Fay

Amazingly enough, four gin and tonics did not leave me with a hangover. I am thirsty as heck though, but Hudson, in all his stern gruffness, has me drinking Pedialyte on a strict schedule in order to replace my depleted electrolytes.

He had Door Dash deliver a whole case.

Grape flavor, because I said that was my favorite.

I passed out after the bath. The events of the evening and the alcohol finally taking me out hard.

I remember getting tucked into the world’s biggest bed with the softest sheets I’ve ever experienced.

From there, it was sweet darkness and a night’s sleep like I haven’t had in years. Blissful unconsciousness and warmth. Heaven.

I woke to the smell of frying bacon, with sunlight streaming in through a gap in the curtains, warming my naked shoulders. I slid out of bed to find a super huge t-shirt draped over the end, and after I slipped into it, I followed my nose.

Which is how I ended up on the patio, tucking into a mouthwatering breakfast of bacon, eggs, hash browns, waffles and French toast, with strawberries and extra syrup. Everything a girl could ask for the morning after she had her first taste of alcohol.

“So…” I start, on a smirk, taking in his more casual look today of a plain white t-shirt stretched across that continent of a chest, paired with a baggy pair of blue jeans. His dark hair is pushed back off his forehead, exposing a long scar close to the hairline. “Are we going to talk about the multiple felonies you committed last night?”

Hudson shrugs. “Nothing to talk about. I did what had to be done, and I’d do it again. Shit, I will if you ever even think of taking your clothes off in front of a roomful of shitfaced dicks again. Or anyone again besides me, for that matter.”

I laugh, covering my mouth while I swallow down a mouthful of French toast. He will do it again? So, he’s planning on keeping me around it seems.

Conflict twists inside of me.

Part of me says that’s a bad thing, that I should be ashamed of myself for sitting here instead of running for the door. But the way my belly flutters at the thought of waking up to this man every morning, to being treated well for once in my life, can’t be denied.

I glance around and through the open French doors toward the kitchen. It’s as big as my entire house. The black and tan stone counter tops gleam, accenting cabinets that reach to the tall ceiling and appliances that probably cost more than most people make in a year.

Or five.

“You’re used to getting everything you want, huh?”

He stares at me for a moment. “I do all right.”

“More than all right, I’d say. This place must be worth more than some entire cities. Did you inherit it?”

“No.”

“So, you’re not some trust fund baby, living on generational wealth?”

He doesn’t answer at once, and I wonder if I’m asking too much, too soon. But I’ve never been in this position before, talking to someone who clearly moves in a different world to my own.

“I’ve never had a trust fund,” he says. “My parents weren’t rich.”

“Self-made man? I can respect that.” I smile, but can’t shake the feeling that I’m in territory he’d rather not talk about. Which seems weird. “If I lived here, I’d have a hundred dogs. A thousand. Black labs, mostly.”

“That so? You’re a dog girl then?” he says, his tongue gliding back and forth between his teeth.

“You could say that. I like gaming, but I love dogs. And they love me. Or, I think they would. I’ve never actually had one.” He nods like he’s committing everything I say to memory. “So, what were you doing at a strip club?” I ask. “You a chubby chaser?”

“No.” The word sounds final. “My friend is the new owner. I was there to see him. Then I saw you.”

“And you decided to ruin my chance at winning the prize, and then took me for a ride to an undisclosed location without my consent?”

He nods. “Something like that. Wasn’t exactly planned.” He pauses, cocking his head toward the front of the house where an engine is rumbling, then stopping, then the muffled sound of a van door sliding and slamming shut. Then there are male voices and gruff laughter.

“Who’s here?” I ask, and his eyes return to mine, filled with some sort of fury, though at what I’m not sure. Then he runs his gaze over my body in a way that makes me tingle all over.

“Get inside. Get dressed.”

I smirk. “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me, Mister Billionaire?”

“No. I don’t want anyone else seeing you like that. That’s just for me.”

“Like what?” I ask as innocently as I can manage. I smooth my hand down the front of the oversized shirt covering me like a dress, letting it pull over my tits, nipples poking through. “Like this?”

I grin, taking hold of the hem and starting to lift, showing a little more thigh, wondering if I have the courage to give him a full show. I’m not wearing underwear, but it’s not like it’s anything he didn’t see last night, right?

When his face darkens, his silver eyes turning stormy under the morning sun, I hesitate.

He stomps my way, and I immediately drop the teasing, but it’s too late. He raises a hand, and for a second, I think he’s going to slap me, but deep down I know that wouldn’t happen. Deep down, I’ve already fallen for this man that kidnapped me, treated me like a whore and made me feel like a princess.

He extends his forefinger, pointing toward the house, his voice turning hard, his expression stony. “Inside. Do as I say. I’ll come find you later.”

I stare blankly, letting the shirt settle again.

“Are you mad?” I ask, his face twisted. I never asked for forgiveness from my real father, because he was never there for me in a way that deserved it.

But Hudson is.

His face softens. “I’m not mad. I’m protective.” He holds out his arms, and I stand, still a little unsure. “Come on,” he says, and I go to him, settling into his thick, solid chest.

It’s like coming home.

“You’re like a big ole protective Great Dane. I’m partial to Black Lab’s myself but I could be swayed…”

“Oh, is that so?” He half snarls, turning my face up to look at his serious eyes. “No one gets to see you dressed like this except me, you understand? This is for Daddy only.”

I nod.

And then I hear it.

Laughter.

Hudson turns, his body turning hard, anger boiling in his eyes.

A gathering of six men stand in the doorway to the kitchen, nodding and chuckling, rubbing their chins or their hands together.

Hudson growls.

He really growls. Bares his teeth.

But they aren’t so quick on the uptake because one of them whistles.

Not a good idea.

“Daddy.” I whisper before thinking and I see all six sets of eyes go round.

His eyes soften for a second before he levels them all with a step forward and a glare. “Which one of you motherfuckers is disrespecting my daughter?” Silence greets him, and if I thought his face darkened when I made him angry, that was nothing. “You dumb fucks laughing at me then? Huh?” He turns his hands up waiting. “All the sudden no one knows how to talk? Get the fuck out of here and spread the word, any of you or anyone on your crew set their eyes on my daughter again, I’ll twist your balls off and staple them to the tree out front. Now, get the fuck back outside, I’ll be there in a minute.”

He starts their way, and I don’t know who these people are, but I don’t want to see any balls stapled to a tree because, that’s gross. I’m also pretty sure that would lead to Hudson going to prison for a very long time.

And despite the fact that he kidnapped me last night, the thought of losing him has a panic wrapping around my throat, choking me.

My prince charming. My billionaire. That’s what I hoped for. Is that what I got?

Part of me wonders whether that’s all he is to me, a meal ticket, a way out. But if that’s true, then why do I feel like I want to run to him with all my fears and happy moments?

Why do I feel like I’d follow him anywhere, even if he was just one of those workers and not a man that could probably buy a private island and a jet to get us there with barely a blip on his financial radar.

He growls, but I place a hand on his shoulder, lowering my voice. “I’ll go inside,” I murmur.

“Please don’t.”

I reach up on tiptoe, and put my lips against his. The men think I’m his daughter, so that must seem pretty strange, but one thing I’ve come to realize: I don’t care. I’m happier right now than I’ve been in my life before, and nothing can possibly spoil it.

“There are going to be workers around,” Hudson says. “I’ll get them started, then I’ll come find you. You stay on this end of the house, not where there’s construction. Anywhere through that door is okay.” He points to the door to the hallway where he brought me into the kitchen. “There’s construction and demo going on, so I don’t want you near any of that. Or the workers.”

He gives me a hard stare and I swallow, nodding.

“Okay, Daddy.”

“That’s my girl.” He almost cracks a smile. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. “That pussy is going to learn how to take care of me today. Now, scoot, before I bend you over and take that cherry right here.”

When Hudson finds me again, a couple hours have gone by. I’ve been back to the bedroom, brushed my hair, put on a pair of his boxers and then explored a good portion of this amazing house but mostly, I’ve been day dreaming in an enormous, sprawling ballroom with a polished parquet floor, drooping chandeliers and marble busts that look like they could be genuinely Roman or Greek, but they have to be modern copies, right? As he walks in, I’m just testing the center of the dance floor, because it feels soft .

“It’s sprung,” he says as he stands and watches me. “It was made to the same design as one in the UK.”

“It’s amazing,” I say, stepping back off the dance floor, mesmerized by everything I’ve seen. There was a library with shelves so high there was a ladder to reach them. I glimpsed a swimming pool through a glass-walled corridor, and a games room with a full-size snooker table. The kitchen looks like something out of Downton Abbey. “This whole place is amazing.”

He pulls his lips to one side, considering. “It is, now that you’re in it.”

Hudson steps forward, taking my hands and leading me back onto the dance floor. I shake my head. “I can’t dance, remember?”

“Everyone can dance, babygirl.”

“Not me. I have two left toes, or whatever that saying is.”

“Left feet. And yours are absolutely perfect. Put them on mine.” He pulls me closer, guiding me to put my feet on top of his own, then he turns his face up to the ceiling. “Carlton, play a Slow Waltz.”

“Who’s Carlton?” I ask, just as a disembodied voice comes from all sides, making me jump.

“Certainly, sir. Playing a Slow Waltz.”

“You have a butler?”

Hudson laughs. “Sort of. Carlton is an AI assistant. Kind of a robot butler. Ask him anything, and he’ll do his best to make it happen.”

Music starts playing, and Hudson starts to dance with me stood on his feet. I feel like a little girl playing at grownups with her father. I lean my head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, and I never want this to end.

“Carlton,” I say out loud, “is there somewhere we can get pizza delivered here?”

A moment passes before the disembodied voice is back. “Yes, ma’am. Village Pizzeria delivers to our address. Would you like me to place an order for you?”

Hudson quirks an eyebrow.

“What?” I shrug. “I’m hungry.”

“You know there’s a fully equipped kitchen right here? I could make you something.”

“I want pizza,” I tell him, slightly starting to sulk. “I’ll pay for it.”

His face is suddenly serious. “No, you fucking will not. Carlton?” He raises his voice. “Order one every specialty pizza on their menu.”

“Very good, sir.”

The music ramps back up and Hudson doesn’t break his stride, waltzing us both around the dance floor like he was one of those professionals on Dancing with the Stars.

He’s so calm and natural here. To me, I feel like this is a movie set or a ride at Disney or something.

I never really imagined being rich. It was enough for me to imagine not being poor. And honestly, I’ve never been greedy. But feeling so safe and secure, and like someone sees me as more than just the chubby girl with the brown hair for once is nice. Hudson treats me like I’m something special, like I’m beautiful and one of a kind. It’s a feeling I never want to end but there’s a niggling deep down that tells me this is all too good to be true.

“So, one of everything?” I purse my lips. “But what are you going to eat?”

He grins, and I laugh, then he glances down between us to where our bodies are connected, me still in his oversized t-shirt and nothing else. “I don’t need pizza,” he says. “I’ve got an appetite for something far better than pizza. And, just so you know, I’m ravenous.”