Page 6 of Daddy Devious

Instead of returning to his spot behind his desk, Mr. Stone leans back against it, his arms folded across his chest as he stares down at me. Butterflies flutter in my stomach, making me feel less like a white-collar criminal and more like a naughty little girl about to be scolded by her Daddy.

“I assume you know why I asked to speak with you today, Ms. Finch.”

Of course I do. But my mouth refuses to form the words, so I just shrug instead. “Not really.”

Deny, deny, deny. Isn’t that what a lawyer would advise in this situation?

Judging by the way Mr. Stone’s eyebrows raise, he isn’t impressed with my legal prowess. “Allow me to lay it out for you, then.” Pushing away from the desk, he circles around to his chair, picking up a thick manilla folder. “For the past six months, you have been moving small sums of money from several company accounts to a bank account in your name. Testing the waters, if I had to guess, for your ultimate betrayal.”

Again my throat is tight with fear, but I shake my head, still unwilling to actually admit to my wrongdoing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” Surprise colors his tone, but it’s dripping with insincerity. “So you know nothing of the thousands of dollars that have made their way into your account over the past few months? Am I to assume that means you are equally as obliviousto the seven-figure sum that was deposited into your bank account this morning?”

“Yup. Totally lost here.”

Snapping the folder shut, he heaves a deep sigh that makes my insides tremble. “Ms. Finch, if you aren’t going to cooperate with me, then you leave me no choice but to call the police. Once I make that call, this is entirely out of my hands. You will be charged, and you will face your day in court. Prison is unlikely to be kind to a woman as beautiful as yourself.”

Surprise has me blinking up at him. “Did you just call me beautiful?”

Not the point, dumbass. Jesus.

The look Mr. Stone sends me is the definition of unamused. “Don’t play coy, Ms. Finch. It doesn’t suit you. We both know you are a very beautiful woman.”

“Well, maybe, but wasn’t your last girlfriend a literal supermodel? I look like Ms. Trunchbull next to someone like that.”

His brows draw together in clear confusion. “Who?”

“Never mind.” Another wave of embarrassed heat rushes to my face. “I just mean, I’m definitely not your type.”

“You would be surprised to learn what my type actually is. But that’s a point for later. Right now, you have a decision to make.” Leaning forward, he places both hands on his desk, pinning me with those dark, lord-of-all-he-purveys eyes. “Would you prefer we deal with this…indiscretionquietly, or would you prefer to have your day in court?”

The absolute last thing I want is to go to prison. But I’m not stupid enough to leap at an offer without knowing what the terms are, first. “Hypothetically, say Ididconfess to what you’re accusing me of. How, exactly, would we ‘deal with it’?”

A smile curves his lips, and I would swear I see the light of approval in his eyes. “Good girl, asking the important questionsfirst. I can’t, and won’t give you all of the details until the paperwork has been signed, including the airtight NDA my lawyers have drafted. But I can give you the basic gist.”

Straightening again, he tugs at the cuffs of his jacket as he rounds the desk again to stand in front of me. “I have a home. Consider it a vacation house. If you choose to deal directly with me rather than the police, we will leave straight from here to my island. You will spend a month with me there, atoning for your sins.”

“Atoning, how?”

His smile turns smug. “Not until you sign, Ms. Finch. But if you think hard enough, I’m sure you can fill in some of the blanks. I’ll give you a hint: What happened in the stairwell when you displeased me?”

I probably shouldn’t be shocked by that revelation. After all, hehasalready spanked me.

But shocked, I am. “You can’t be serious. You want tobeat mefor stealing from you?”

“What I have planned is a bit more nuanced than that.” Pulling his phone from his pocket, he taps on the screen, then sets it down on the desk beside him, the screen facing up. I watch, helpless as the numbers on the screen count down to… something.

“You have five minutes to decide, Ms. Finch. Take the deal, or we can handle this the more conventional way. I’ll give you some space to make up your mind.”

He steps forward, as if to leave the office as he said, but he pauses beside me. “For what it’s worth, I am very much hoping you will take my deal, Ms. Finch. I believe we will both be very… satisfied with the resolution.”

With that cryptic message, he exits the office.

Leaving me alone to ponder my fate.

Chapter Three

Maxwell

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