Page 7 of Dating the Daddy

Once I’m locked away in the sanctity of my office, I toss my briefcase onto the nearest chair and lean against my desk, willing the frustration to disperse. But it’s like trying to wring out a fucking stone.

The mysterious woman, with her capricious charms and ridiculous matchmaking gig, has succeeded in doing what no one else has managed. She’s gotten under my skin. My own damn fault for poking the beast, but knowing that doesn’t make it easier to swallow.

Impulse drives me to grab my phone and call her. Maybe hearing her voice again will ground me, remind me of why I embarked on this unmasking mission in the first place. But the call rings out to voicemail, each unanswered beep like a shot to my already frayed nerves.

I end the call, gripping the phone like I might crush it barehanded, and frustration curls my lips into a sneer. Her game of hide-and-seek only adds fuel to the fire. Fine. If she wants to play this game, I’ll call the shots. I thumb over to our text thread, fingers flying over the keyboard with a speed and fury that’s almost cathartic.

Me

Seriously? Ignoring my calls now? Makes you look like you're running scared.

I send the text, and for a moment, the silence stretches. There's a part of me that hopes for an instant response, for her to leap into the ring with her usual quippy bullshit and banter. But there’s nothing, only the quiet hum of the office outside my door as the minutes drag on.

It’s a gamble, texting the way I do, poking and prodding at her just to provoke a reaction. I’ve never been one to shy away from confrontation; hell, I thrive on it. But this? This simmering need to hear from her, to have her attention to the exclusion of all else, is goddamn maddening.

I down another swig of stale coffee, already cold and bitter on my tongue, contemplating if I should just storm over to my brother’s house and demand her identity. Yet some lingering thread of sense holds me back. Letting her make a move is the smarter play if I’m going to unravel this whole operation of hers and put an end to the madness.

My phone vibrates, pulling me from my stewing thoughts, and I glance down, pulse leaping traitorously. It’s a reply from her.

Fairy

Patience is a virtue, Mr. Steele. But since you asked so nicely, what’s got your knickers in a twist today?

Her words, flippant and light, crack a fissure in my irritation. It’s maddening and intriguing all at once. I don’t know why this woman dancing around me like we’re engaging in some elaborate game of chess turns my heart to mush and my goddamn cock to steel.

Me

You. You’re what’s got my knickers twisted. Fucking hell. I just wanted to hear that smoky fairytale voice of yours again.

Before reason prevails, I hit send, sealing my own fate. Might as well see how she reacts, see if she’ll peel back some of that enigma just for me.

CHAPTER 3

ELYSA

I read Aidan’s text,smiling to myself. I can almost believe he means it. Unfortunately, I’m not quite ready to believe he means it the way I wish he did. I’ve spent the last two nights having the most ridiculous dreams about him and his mouth. He did delightfully wicked things to me with it.

And then, right before he got me off, he’d suddenly pull away and tell me that he was just kidding, and the only reason he was with me was to put an end to my reign of terror. I’ve woke up turned on and out of sorts two mornings in a row, with that infuriating man occupying way too much of my mind.

It’s about time the tables turned.

I roll onto my side in my bed, my smile growing downright wicked.

Me

We can’t all have what we want, Aidan. What did I say about patience being a virtue?

His response is immediate.

Aidan

Fuck virtue, Fairy. You’ve been ignoring me for two days. Pick up the phone and let me hear that voice.

Me

No can do. Sorry.

Aidan

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