Page 18 of Daddy's Princess

Fucking Britney. I guarantee she knew that and deliberately didn’t pass the information along. I’m really starting to hate that girl. I feel instant guilt because I don’t hate people. It’s just not in my nature to feel such overwhelmingly negative emotions toward someone. Still, she’s quickly escalating from ‘annoying’ to ‘massive dislike boner.’

“That’s good to know, s-”—I cut myself off before I can call him ‘sir’ but just barely—“Mr. Titan. I’ll make sure to do that next time.”

“For today, I’ll need to you to stick around and serve the coffee, Miss…” he trails off, probably just now realizing he doesn’t know my name.

“Larson.”

He nods. “Very well, Miss Larson.”

I scrunch up my nose at that. I don’t like the formality between us. It just seems wrong for Oliver to call me Miss Larson. I can’t be his sweetheart, babygirl, little one, or any of the other sweet little names I would love to hear from his lips, but Icanbe Sugar. What’s the harm in being on a first-name basis?

“You can call me Sugar,” I say almost shyly.

He looks slightly surprised. “Sugar? Is that your… nickname?”

Oliver must’ve thought Sugar was a club name or something. A lot of people who don’t want their club lives and their lives outside of the club to collide will use aliases. I never saw the point.

“Nope. My parents made the mistake of offering to let my brothers choose my name. They were ten, eight, and five at the time. My mother was horrified, but my dad said it suited me because I was such a sweet baby.”

He chuckles, licking his lips. “It definitely suits.”

My eyes are riveted on his mouth. That wonderfully wicked mouth that made me come unglued over and over again last night. I clench my thighs together, trying to soothe the ache that’s slowly building just thinking about what that mouth can do. His devilish smile indicates that that was his intention.

Two can play this game. I slowly lick my own lips, making sure they are at peak ‘kiss me’ status. Oliver lets out a low groan and takes a step in my direction but is stopped when we hear voices just outside the room. A quick glance at the clock shows that it’s time for the meeting to start.

I’m equal parts relieved and disappointed at the interruption. Okay, not equal parts. I’m more disappointed than relieved. I’m drawn to Oliver like a match to flame. Flirting with him is a dangerous game. One that I will lose.

Oliver walks to the head of the table and sits in his swivel chair like it’s his throne and calls the start of the meeting.

8

Oliver

Once again,my attention is caught on Sugar. Jeff Thompson is droning on about how his team is on target to meet their deadline. Apparently, he didn’t take the time to read the email that explained what this meeting is for. Being on target for a deadline means shit if the work you’re doing is subpar at best. Titan-Rose is known for the best, and I refuse to settle for uninspired and mediocre illustrations on one of this year’s hottest new children’s books.

Sugar bends over to pick up a napkin that Jeff carelessly dropped, looked at, then left on the floor. Her sensible top gapes just enough that I can make out the upper curves of her perky breasts. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Jeff, who leans in his chair to get a better look. Sugar is completely oblivious to the lecher.

What does that make you? I question myself.

A man who has lost his mind over a girl he just met. A man who had to fight back an insatiable desire to bend her over the conference table and spank her ass for daring to deny our attraction. My inner caveman is demanding to make her ours. He also wants me to grab Jeff Thompson by the back of his head and smash his face into the table in front of him.

“Meeting your deadline is the least of your worries,” I growl, drawing Jeff’s attention away from the vixen bent over to clean up after his slobbish ways.

“I’m not sure I understand, Oliver.” I glare at the informal way he’s addressed me. “Mr. Titan, sir,” he corrects quickly.

He’s been at Titan-Rose for thirty-five years. He was one of my father’s friends. Until I took the reins of the company three years ago, I had thought that Jeff was the brain behind finding the best illustrators in the business. It wasn’t until two of our top illustrators left that I realized it was only because he already had amazing talent at his disposal. The people he hired to fill the open positions are not living up to their shiny resumes.

“Let me be frank then, Mr. Thompson. The storyboards are shit. Did your department even read the story before slapping concepts on the boards?”

Jeff’s eyes go wide, and everyone else in the room shifts uneasily in their seats. I’m not a total dick. I’m very fair with my employees. I believe in providing the best tools and resources and compensating my employees well for their time. When employees are treated as a valuable part of the team, they are hardworking and loyal.

However, I don’t suffer fools gladly. You don’t stay the best at anything when you have a weak link in the chain. Jeff is proving himself to be a weak link that is slowly spreading his rot through the creative department. Unacceptable.

“Of course, we read the story,” Jeff says defensively.

He then goes on and on about why they decided to take a modern approach. He has an excuse for everything and not good ones. Jeff’s little speech is interrupted with a snort from Sugar. When every head in the room turns to her, she covers her mouth with her hand and turns bright pink. She quickly turns around and busies herself with wiping the side bench down. Something she’s done five times already, and I know for a fact doesn’t need cleaning.

Yes, I’ve been paying close attention to Miss Sugar Larson. Way more attention than is appropriate.

---