Page 208 of Morally Gray Daddies

Patrick! Why aren’t you responding?

Ronan

I swear to god, I’m about to throw my phone in the fishpond just so I don’t have to deal with any more of these chats.

Patrick Ryan has left the chat.

Grinning at the screen, I power down my phone and set it aside. I’ll talk to all of them on Monday. For now, I have a sweet, sleeping girl curled up under my arm that I’d prefer to pay attention to.

Chapter Fourteen

Ana

“Are you sure I can’t stay here?”

This weekend has been like a dream. The morning after my embarrassing vomiting, Patrick woke me up with breakfast in bed. Best meal ever. I don’t know much about drinking other than I don’t want to do it again and food is the trick to feeling better the next day. Well, that and water. He made me drink so much water on Saturday that I was making trips to the bathroom every twenty minutes. By the evening, though, I felt back to normal.

After dinner that night, we watched movies and fell asleep on the couch. When I woke up at some point, I was cuddled up against him. As soon as I realized it, I peeled myself away from him and went to my bedroom. Then I lay in bed, berating myself for snuggling with him. When I was done doing that, I started making a mental list of reasons why it’s okay to like Patrick Ryan.

Anastasia Ryan…

My panties get damp every time I think about that.

“It will be good for you to get out of the penthouse. Besides, all the girls want to meet you. And I’d like to spend more time with you.”

How does this man always say the most perfect things?

“Can I stay close to you?”

Both of us go still when the words come out. Over the weekend, we didn’t talk about anything deep after our conversation when I was drunk, but we did chat about small stuff. Favorite foods, birthdays, favorite movies… things that don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things but were still fun to learn about each other.

Moving at a glacial pace, he reaches out and cups my chin, giving it a firm but reassuring squeeze. “No matter where we go or what we do, you can always stay close to me. You never have to ask, Ana.”

“Anastasia,” I whisper.

He tilts his head and lifts a corner of his mouth into a smile. “Anastasia?”

“I like it when you call me by my full name. No one ever has, and I like it when you do.”

It’s like, now that we’ve opened this door and started talking, I can’t seem to stop. The more I share with him, the more it feels right. It almost makes me feel safer with him. Weird.

“Then, Anastasia it is.” He opens the front door for me and leads me to the elevator to go down to the parking garage. Just as he steps in, he glances back at me. “Well, that and babygirl.”

I’m a bundle of nerves by the time we get to an enormous estate. I never knew something this size existed in Seattle. The main house is like a castle but with less stone and more warmth.

Patrick told me all about the men’s wives. According to him, they are brats, but he loves them dearly. He also said they’ve been begging him to let them meet me, which means he’s talked to them about me. I want to know what he said, but I’m too afraid to ask.

When the car comes to a stop, the driver steps out and opens my back door. I recognize him from the day Patrick took me from my father’s house. He tips his head to acknowledge me.

“Careful, lass. Don’t want you to fall.” He offers his hand to me for balance as I step out of the car. When I don’t take it, he gives me a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. One day, you’ll know you’re safe with us.”

Then he steps back and looks into the distance while Patrick leads me toward the porch.

“None of my men will ever harm you, Anastasia. I would put a bullet in their heads if they even thought about it.”

His words are the balm to soothe my worries. I haven’t told him anything about my life at home with my father, but somehow, he knows exactly when I need reassurance that no one will hurt me.

I’m not sure what I am expecting when we walk into the mansion, but peaceful silence isn’t it.

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