Page 7 of Until Daddy

“Well, this one’s different.” He laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back.

Damien shook his head with sigh. “They’re all the same, Jamison. A girl is a girl is a girl.”

“Such a fucking romantic.” Jamison laughed.

Damien grunted, threw him a grin and left, leaving Jamison with the strong temptation to turn the security program back on and check on Carissa. The ringing of his cell phone saved him from his own weakness.

His father. With a heavy sigh, he picked up the call.

“Jamison. Good I caught you. I have an opportunity you’re not going to want to miss.” His father always had an opportunity.

“I’m in the middle of a project at the moment, and Garrick and I are working on a deal with a condo complex. I’m not sure I can fit in another project right now.” Even after five years of trying to get out from under his father’s corporate thumb, the struggle never ceased.

“That’s fine. This is huge, the little projects you do with Garrick won’t get in the way at all.”

Little projects.

Jamison closed his eyes for a moment and took a calming breath. Arguing that his company may not be a corporate conglomerate like his father’s but he and Garrick were doing just fine wouldn’t get him anywhere, and would only keep him on the phone longer.

“Come over and we’ll go over the details.”

Jamison clicked open the security screen again, just in time to see Carissa walking toward the lockers. The demonstration had finished, and the girl who’d been thoroughly punished stood facing a wall with her nose pressed firmly against it.

“Not tonight. I’ll have my secretary schedule something.”

“Of course. I have dinner plans myself this evening. But don’t wait too long, Jamison.” The phone clicked, signaling his father had disconnected the call.

Jamison didn’t give his father another thought. Whatever he wanted would wait, at least until his patience ran out, then his father would track him down.

He switched to the screen showing the parking lot and spotted Carissa. She stepped into a cab and Jamison scribbled down the license plate and noted the time.

“Shit. I am getting creepy.” He sighed and dropped his pen to the desk and flipped off his monitor.

He needed to forget her. If she wanted nothing to do with him, why should he waste any more time thinking about her? Worrying that she’d find someone who wouldn’t treat her right—wouldn’t give her what she really craved—wasn’t his problem.

Yes. Carissa McAllister, your message has been received. Loud and fucking clear.

Chapter 3

Carissa McAllister stepped out of the cab and joined the crowd of people waiting to gain entrance into Dark Lace. She let out a long breath.

She could do this. Her stomach was twisted in knots, but not because of fear—no, fear wasn’t it. Trepidation, anticipation, and excitement, something close to exhilaration was what she felt about running into Jamison—definitely not fear.

Because she could handle running into Jamison. She would simply ignore his presence. If he even showed up.

She sure as hell wasn’t nervous, either. Nerves were reserved for men she had a fighting chance of winning and keeping. They were not to be wasted on men who were obviously as much out of her league as her social class. Not to mention their shared kink. Just yet another sign to steer clear.

Besides, it was New Year’s Eve. The odds that he’d attend the New Year’s Eve party at Dark Lace were impossibly remote. The man owned more properties within the city limits than she ever would. Surely he had somewhere much more sophisticated to be at the stroke of midnight.

She played with the hem of her skirt, twisting it tightly between her fingers. She wasn’t going to imagine him in a tuxedo walking through a ballroom full of gorgeous woman who were falling at his feet. No, she was not going to do that. Even if he probably looked killer in the perfectly tailored suit, showing off his broad shoulders, his muscular physique. His dark hair would be styled casually, pushed off to the side of his forehead, which would expose his dark chocolate eyes. He’d smile at the ladies vying for his attention with his thick lips. Lips that could—no, did—make her body tingle just from the memory of their touch.

But she wasn’t thinking about that.

She moved up in line, taking out her small membership card to show the bouncer.

“Hey, Carissa!” Steven greeted her with a wide grin. The darkness of the front hall didn’t hide his handsome features. With his chiseled jaw and square shoulders, he could have stepped right out of one of the historical romance novels she used to read in college.

“Hi, Steven.” He waved off her membership card. Obviously, she’d spent more time at the club since her first visit right before Christmas than she thought. When a bouncer knows your first name and barely glances at your membership card, it’s a sign you’ve been tagged a regular.

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