Page 5 of My Young Alpha Daddy

Maybe it’s the arrogance of youth?

Or maybe they haven’t experienced enough of life to know that if you want something, you have to be patient a lot of the time.

Whatever it is, I’m thinking about only seeing clients who are at least thirty from now on. Maybe even thirty-five.

As I stand in the elevator and wait for it to make its way down from the penthouse level to the ground floor, I catch a glimpse of myself in the gold-plated mirror.

With my dark brown eyes and matching hair, I can see why they media used to call me the Rafa Soleil: The Dark Destroyer. On court I was aggressive as hell and loved nothing more than taking complete control over my opponent, pushing him physically and mentally to places that no other player could.

Maybe they should have called me The Dominant Daddy instead.

But I always kept my private life totally private. Not everyone is cool with the whole Daddy and baby boy thing. Corporate sponsors and media outlets aren’t exactly known for being chill when it comes to anyone who dares to stray from the accepted norm.

I definitely had lots of Daddy fun off court but kept it private.

Dominating on the court was one thing, but now I want to dominate in my romantic life too.

The only problem then, and it’s just as true now, is that the kind of boy I want just doesn’t seem to be in my world.

I need a different kind of boy to the ones I encounter on the daily.

PING!

Great, I’m at the ground floor. Now it’s time to bounce and get to my next client…

And by ‘next client’ what I really mean is my buddy Kyle Chaser.

It’s time to sink a couple of cold ones and shoot some good, old-fashioned shit with the best God damn Daddy buddy in the city.

‘Okay is it me or are you even later than usual?’ Kyle says, flashing me his perfect sports anchor smile as I walk into the bar.

Kyle and I might be millionaires, but this old dive bar is our kind of place. We can hang out and be ourselves without the risk of being bothered by celebrity chasers or assholes looking to film a conversation to try and gain clout for their own profile.

The bar might be nothing more than an old bar and a few beat-up old booths, but we love it. The jukebox ain’t bad either, especially when it’s me doing the selecting.

‘Screw you, I’m on time,’ I reply, not willing to accept Kyle’s bullshit call. ‘Not my fault you’ve got nothing better to do than hang out with a washed-up tennis star like me…’

Kyle laughs and we embrace.

Four cold bottles of the finest Czech lager are already at our corner booth and I’m ready to have some fun.

Kyle and I go way back.

In fact, Kyle’s very first interview on Sports Network TV happened to be with me.

Kyle might be a year older at twenty-nine, but he was a raw twenty-year-old sports reporter when he first fired me some hardball questions on live TV.

The interview went viral – well as viral as things went back in the day.

It turned out that Kyle hadn’t been banking on coming up against a fellow Daddy in an interview.

We might both have been young, but our Daddy Dom instincts were already fine-tuning themselves. As we went back and forth, neither one of us willing to back down it felt like something was happening between us.

There was chemistry.

But it was a platonic kind of admiration.

Nothing sexual, not really.

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