Page 34 of Until Daddy

“That’s right. Now, I’m going to put an order in and it will be delivered tomorrow. I know you work during the day, so I’ll have them do a drop off. It’ll be here when you get home.”

“Can’t I put in the order?” She sounded a little pitiful. He brushed his lips across hers and released her chin.

“Nope. You can put in the next one. This one is going to be a little big. I want to be sure you have everything you need.”

She looked ready to argue, but she leaned back in the chair and turned her attention to the computer screen. “Can I at least get ice cream, Daddy?” she whispered with a pout when he clicked off the dairy tab.

* * *

Two dayslater Jamison was poring over projection reports and quotes from various builders and contractors. He hadn’t even started looking at the real estate proposals to buy out the buildings they would need to knock down to make room for his father’s grand hotel.

Since Carissa had questioned him about this mother, he found her drifting in and out of his mind. Maybe he should look her up.

Carissa had a good point. His father could very well have kept her away on purpose. Though he couldn’t think of any reason why his father would do that. Jamison had always seen himself as a bother to his father. One more thing to take care of—or rather, hire a staff member to take care of. He’d never shown interest in Jamison until after he graduated with his MBA and started moving into the business realm. Then Jamison had a purpose, and a man with purpose was held in high regard.

He’d often wondered as a child if his mother would have been proud of him. Would she have seen him as something more than his father did? But after years passed during which he heard not a word from her, and his father made it quite clear she had no interest in them, the idea she would find anything about him pleasing died away.

That idea brought him back to Carissa. She’d written off her parents. She didn’t hold on to them, trying to wedge herself into their lives and make them see what an awesome person she’d turned out to be. She didn’t need to; she already knew it herself. She didn’t need or look for their approval. Her confidence came from herself, from her own self-worth—she didn’t need it to come from anywhere outside of herself.

Which made it so much sweeter when she blushed at being called his good girl, or when she looked up at him to see if he approved.

Fuck. She was getting under his skin, more than he was prepared for. What if she walked away after the month was up? What if he couldn’t get her to understand they could make it long term, that he could be her daddy, her lover, her everything, if she would just let him in? He’d never hurt her, and he’d fucking lay out anyone who tried. He wouldn’t walk away like her father, and all the men her mother seemed to parade through her life.

“Mr. Croft, your father’s on his way in,” a hurried voice rang through the speaker of his phone just as his door bounded open.

“Father.” He sat back in his chair. “I’ve seen you more in the last week than I have in the last six months.” He could hear the sharpness of his tone and was sure Barron could, too. Though he doubted the man would address it. He looked to be on a mission again.

“You’re looking at the reports. Good.”

“Yes. Garrick and I are meeting over at the location this afternoon to take a look.”

“Good. Good.” Barron clapped his hands together.

“You could have just called.” Jamison steepled his hands over the reports.

“I’m heading over to have lunch with Victoria and I decided to stop in.”

“Victoria?”

“A woman I’m seeing. It’s not serious.” He waved a hand through the air. No woman was serious to his father. “I wanted to be sure you were still coming to dinner tomorrow?”

“Yes. We can talk about the project then.”

“Good. Good,” he said again, rubbing his hands.

“Are you going to tell me why this is so important? Why this sudden change in business, and so fast?”

Barron walked over to the windows behind Jamison’s desk and looked out at the city. “I’m getting older, Jamison. And I’ve realized all I’ve done my entire life is buy and sell, buy and sell. I haven’t left a real mark on anything. There’s nothing to leave behind that shows I was here.”

Jamison turned in his chair to get a better look at his father, hoping maybe he was joking. Nothing left behind? Could a son not be enough?

“You want to build this hotel because you want to leave your name on something when you die?” His jaw clenched.

“I want to leave my stamp, yes.” When Barron turned back to him, Jamison saw something—something he’d seen a thousand times in his father’s expression but always ignored. It was the coldness, the disconnection between the two of them. No matter if Jamison did this project with him, he’d never be seen as Barron’s mark on the world. He could own half the city—hell, all of the city—and his father would still not see him as an extension of himself. He’d still just be his son.

Barron Croft was all about himself. And nothing, no amount of success, would change that. Jamison had talked himself into believing he didn’t care about his father’s opinion, that he didn’t need his approval. But it had been just talking. Now, seeing the amount of joy his father took in thinking he was finally going to leave his stamp on the world with a fucking building, he realized he’d been lying to himself.

“Since you’re here, I have a question for you. It’s about Mother.”

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