Page 53 of Big Daddy

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

He gives me a small smile. “And your love interest prompted this realization? Do you feel like you must alter the long-term happiness with your daughter before starting a relationship?”

I scrub a hand down my face, hesitant. “Yes,” I start, feeling somewhat detached from the words because of how foreign they are to me. “It’s… complicated though. And I don’t feel like I can have the relationship I want until things with my daughter are on the mend. Even then, I don’t even know if my daughter would accept me and this other woman together.”

I finally meet Dr. Wilder’s eyes. “It sounds bad, like I only cared about Brielle because of this other woman, I know. But that’s not it.” I release a sigh that’s weighed on my consciousness for ages. “The truth is, I wanted to fix things with my daughter for a long time. But I didn’t think it was possible until recently.”

“Why does it feel possible now?” he asks.

Winnie’s feet sliding over my cock flash through my mind. Followed by her smile. Those light freckles. The swell of her ass. Her raucous laughter at my expense. “The woman I’m seeing. She gives me… hope.”

“Hope,” he repeats, in the ominous way shrinks repeat shit to get your brain scrambled.

I nod. “She makes me think anything is possible.”

Dr. Wilder smiles. “A great place to leave until next week.”

I get to my feet and we shake hands. “While I’m here, I’ll pay the other bill. You know, for the other client.”

His brows ruffle. “Speak with Ida. I don’t believe there is a bill.”

Winnie paid her own bill? With what I’m paying her, it’s completely plausible, and she’s so hard-headed, I can absolutely believe it. Still, as I approach the front desk on my way out, I make sure.

“Ida, the other account that I pay the tab on—is there a balance?”

Ida smiles, sliding her glasses onto her nose as she taps on the keyboard. A moment later the glasses are back to hanging around her neck from a string of pearls as she blinks up at me. “The client has assumed all payments.”

Goddamn it. I told her I’d take care of this. She’s supposed to be paying down debt, or whatever the fuck.

I give Ida a curt smile and head to work. No more silent treatment. Winnie’s going over my desk and giving me an answer as to why she’s paying this bill, or she’s gonna end up with a red ass and pussy full of my cum.

Big Daddy’s upset.

“Where the fuck is she?” the question sizzles in the air as Ken blinks rapidly, her chin quivering.

“In, uh, a meeting.” She glances at the folders held to her chest. “Davis wanted to borrow her for the Dalworth-Scott case.”

My nostrils flare as a vision of Davis Pen hovering over Winnie’s shoulder appears in my mind. I see him tucking a string of greasy blonde hair back, a smile curling his lips as he peers over, looking down her top as he gets an idea he shouldn’t be getting.

“His office?” I question, straightening my posture and adjusting my tie. My complete 180 from rage to calm has Ken’s panic growing.

“No, no, he’s in conference B but Mr. Parker, the clients are in there, too. Their assistants. The prosecutor and?—”

My smile is so rare and so terrifying that Ken falls silent. “I don’t fucking care.”

The office falls to a hush as I storm through, each step setting off a ripple of hushes and stares. The door slams into the wall and I’m inside, yanking Davis to his feet by the collar of his shirt.

Chairs squeak and roll as everyone clambers to their feet, despite a few voices urging everyone to sit and calm.

“She’s fucking mine. Do you hear me? Keep your goddamn hands off of her.”

Pen has the audacity to look confused. His golden brows pull together, as his mouth widens, and he swivels his head back from me as much as he can. His hands come to mine, attempting to loosen the hold. “Quincey, what are you talking about? Who’s yours?”

My nostrils flare. “Don’t fuck with me, Pen.” With his body still pressed into the wall, I tilt my head slightly, bringing Winnie into view. She folds her arms over her blouse, her green eyes sharp and biting.

I return my gaze to Pen. “She’s off limits, or else. Say it fucking with me.”

A little nervous laugh slips free, and Pen shifts on his feet, his eyes attempt to soothe the room of clients. I tighten my grip, and a button near the collar of his shirt pops off, skittering across the floor. “Don’t you fucking laugh. Repeat after me.” I lick my lips, lower my voice, and nail my eyes to his. “She’s off limits, or else.”

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