Page 49 of Daddy's Rules

“Maybe I better take you to the vet,” I say as I walk to the door to get the tabloid papers and gossip magazines that Owen gets so he can keep tabs for his legal clientele. They often lead to defamation cases. I’m thinking about what I’m going to make Owen for breakfast when I toss the papers on the counter. One slides off the counter and flutters open by Beast’s bowl.

My mouth drops open at the sight of my own face staring back at me.

“Morning, baby girl,” Owen announces with a stretch but I barely hear his voice. Beside my picture is a back shot of Owen and me. Owen is clearly smacking my ass. My eyes dart to the caption.

Hollywood Daughter Finds Replacement for Dead Daddy.

I fight the urge to gag as I melt to the floor. I quickly read the article about our time together in the seaside town. The missing dog and the horrid words of the woman who stole Beast.

“He was clearly her lover and clearly a dominant. The sick bastard makes her call him Daddy. And she laps it up. Poor girl doesn’t know she’s being abused. And my God, I think he had her on a leash.”The small picture beside her quote is clear enough to show the leash in Owen’s hand but not clear enough to show the dog in front of me. There are other pictures of us with the dog but the damning photo is the most prominent.

“That lying bitch!” My voice trembles with anger, but I can’t ignore the other emotion I feel.

Guilt.

What we’ve been doing is wrong. He was my father’s friend, old enough to have kids my age and I’ve been getting off on him controlling, punishing, and pleasuring me as he sees fit. I’m sick, twisted, and dirty. But worse, the papers have insinuated Owen’s abusive. I run past Owen, ignoring his questions and head straight for the shower, locking the washroom door on my way.

I scald my skin with the burning water, hoping to cleanse myself. My tears fall and go down the drain with the soapy water as I make my decision to move forward on my own.

Owen is better off without me and the circus that follows.

When I come out of the bathroom, wrapped in just a towel with my hair dripping in wet tangles over my shoulder, Owen is holding a fluffy robe open for me. I eye the paper now on the bed and suck in a shuddering breath.

“This isn’t right,” I say on the sob I’ve just swallowed. “Being with me is ruining your reputation, tarnishing our relationship, and pointing out my inability to live without a keeper.” His eyes are soft and warm, his lips relaxed and his touch gentle, as he brushes a wet chunk of hair from my forehead.

“It’s trash and we both know it, Jordan.” He guides me to a chair in front of a dressing table that he bought for me. I sit and look at myself in the mirror a moment before looking through the glass at him above me. He picks up my brush and starts running it through my hair. Is it trash though?

“I don’t care what that reporter says. We belong together.” He pauses and looks me in the eye through the mirror. I don’t know how but it’s as if he reaches inside me and gently squeezes my heart. I feel his look into my very being. “I love you.”

“That’s why you don’t care what’s being said about you.” I look down but he spins the chair and tips my chin up.

“We’re worth fighting for, Jordan.” I nod and he smiles before bending forward and kissing me on the lips. “You’re worth fighting for.”

So I try.

I try hard.

* * *

After several weeksof people offering me assistance escaping the ‘abusive’ relationship, including a plea from a popular television doctor, three men taking swings at Owen, and a woman throwing her daiquiri at him while trying to drag me away when we were out for dinner, I decide I need to be the strong one. It’s like a light going off in my head. Owen can’t solve this—he can’t rescue me. Only I can and it might look like running to everyone including the love of my life, but I know what needs to be done.

I have to leave in order to fight.

“I’m not running, Owen.”

“Sure as hell seems like running to me.” Owen crosses his arms. His eyes tell me if we weren’t out front of his building in public our conversation wouldn’t be verbal.

“It’s just temporary... until things cool down.”

“If it were temporary you wouldn’t be leaving like this. Taking everything...” He gathers a breath, staring at the pickup truck with two guys waiting to get my stuff from his condo. “Including my dog.”

I’m too sad to chuckle at his suddenly calling Beast his dog, but it’s not lost on me that he’s accepted the stray into his life. Just like he accepted me. Two waifs in need of care. I hold Beast a little tighter to my chest.

“I need to do this, Owen. Please let me. I can’t explain now. You won’t understand. But please let me do this for us, for me.”

His eyes widen slightly and then he shoves his free hand through his mussed hair.

“I love you,” I say and turn away, our hands slipping apart. “And if you love me, you’ll let me.”

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