Page 6 of Daddy's Rule

"What do you mean my account is overdrawn?" I frowned at the frizzy-haired bank teller with the peach-fuzz mustache. "I assure you, that isn't possible. You've made an error. So, recheck the account number, type it in correctly, and withdraw my funds. Ten thousand dollars."

I needed the cash to secure an apartment and purchase furniture. I didn't want to give him a heads up on my location with any traceable transactions. If I withdrew cash he would just assume I had sent money back home or indulged in some retail therapy.

"Ma'am." The teller spoke impatiently. "No error has been made." He sighed and swiveled his computer screen around to face me. "This is your name. This is your balance. And here are a series of withdrawals made by the joint account holder." He tapped the screen again and scrolled down.

My gaze followed his finger, looking at all the tiny red numbers. Hundreds of thousands of dollars gone over the course of a few weeks. This was more than Jacob’s usual over-indulgent spending. This was a planned retreat. If I hadn’t left him, he’d been planning to leave me first, and to use my money to do it. There was no other explanation.

My stomach churned. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Couldn't make sense of what it meant, but there was the proof in black and white, or rather, in red. Jacob had beat me to the punch, and the no-good deadbeat had stolen all my money. Hundreds of thousands of dollars between checking and savings, from the looks of it. Why hadn’t I gotten separate accounts like Archer told me to? Dammit!

My legs turned to Jell-O, barely able to hold my weight. My heart raced. Black dots seemed to swim in front of my eyes and the room started to tilt. Unable to catch my breath, much less speak, I turned and walked out of the bank.

In the parking lot, I leaned against my car, a yellow Mercedes AMG GT, and thought. It was the fifteenth. The money from my business investments made with my lottery winnings had already come in for the month and had been stolen right out from under my nose, along with every other cent Jake had managed not to spend over the course of our four-year marriage.

I’d funded our extravagant lifestyle, penthouse loft in the Upper East Side, fancy cars, extravagant vacations, five-star dinners, designer suits, everything Jake could have possibly wanted, but it had never been enough. And when I tried to get him to slow down and save for a future, not spend every cent as fast as it came in, this is what it got me. Screwed.

I'd be okay, long-term. Tonight, my bags were packed and in the car, there was a note on the kitchen counter telling Jake I was leaving him, and I had a thousand bucks in my wallet. I'd take Jake off my account or open a brand new one and the money would keep coming in every month like it always did. Meanwhile, he'd blow through what he had taken and be screwed. The thought was my only consolation at the moment.

I was fine. Or, I would be. I just needed a place to decompress, lick my wounds, and gather my bearings. A thousand bucks wouldn’t last me long in New York City, but it would get me to Pennsylvania, where I had a cushy apartment, a job waiting for me, and five sets of strong, sexy shoulders to cry on.

With a plan in place, I squared my shoulders, got in my car, filled up at a gas station and pulled onto the highway for the four-hour drive.

I'd get to Philly super late, but I could get a good night's sleep knowing I was safe and surrounded by people who loved me.

Chapter Three

Nyla

I woke up in my Philly apartment, Doordashed coffee and breakfast then, ordered grocery delivery since I hadn't been there in over a year and any food I did have in the place was probably expired, and settled in to read a book I had started over a year ago. The truth was, I was just killing time, trying to figure out when and how to let the guys know I was back in town, possibly for good.

Even though I was basically crawling into town with my tail between my legs, I wanted my entrance to make a splash. I wanted to surprise them, possibly all at once. I figured my best bet was to show up at the club tonight, so after spending the day lounging and getting settled, I took an obscenely hot shower, shaved my legs, curled my hair, and slipped into a little black dress. It wasn't exactly club gear—I had gotten rid of that long ago—but it would have to do.

My heart pounded as I rode the elevator up to The Penthouse right after 9 pm. I wanted to get there when it opened.

When I got to the top floor, the Penthouse floor for which the club was named, I marched straight up to the door, and stopped short when I saw the flier. It was huge and bright, done in the company's rich color palette of deep purple, royal blue and charcoal gray, and the Penthouse Inc. logo I had designed a decade ago was on the bottom left corner.

But the flier advertised a service we had never offered. I skimmed the royal blue print, my face heating with anger as I looked at the words.

Is your life feeling a little bit unsettled lately? Do you find yourself craving structure? Rules? Discipline? Accountability?

We can help!

Club Rent-A-Daddy is open! Book a meeting with your caring Daddy Dom today!

Then it listed a website URL and a phone number I recognized instantly as Bas's work phone.

"What the ever-loving fuck?" I whispered, staring at it, dumbfounded. It was obviously a new business venture under our company. The company that the six of us had formed and divided equally. And yet I knew nothing of this Club Rent-A-Daddy.

Yanking the paper down, I gripped it in my hand and pulled open the door, storming into the club with my eyes full of fire and rage and my head held high.

The bouncer, Zeke, had been there for years, and let me pass by with nothing more than a nod and a raised eyebrow. I bypassed the bar and the play area and went directly to the back and into the office.

They were all there, every single one of them. Bas and Theo, Lennon and Bain and Archer. Just the sight of them filled me with happiness and relief, and I wanted to melt into their arms and cry out the stress of the past few weeks, chug a few beers and shoot the shit. I did not want to talk business. But that was no longer an option.

They gasped and jumped to their feet when I entered, rushing to greet me. Bas was first. He came up to me with arms out, but I blocked him with my hand up in front of me, waving the flier in his face.

"What the heck is this? A new side business? That your business partner knows nothing about?"

Bas sighed. "It's not a big deal, Nyla. It's just an idea I had. We put the flier up five minutes ago so we could gauge interest while crossing our t’s and dotting our i’s."

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