Page 197 of Daddy, Sir

Chapter Thirteen

Frankie

It was the bite of anger in his tone that stopped her in her tracks. Hurt and fury burned away the fog from the whiskey as she lifted her head to stare down at him. Here she was, actively trying to seduce him, and he was telling her tostop?

“You don’t want me.”

“To the contrary, baby. I want you so fucking bad right now it’s killing me. But you’re drunk. Too drunk for me to do anything more than take you home, tuck you into bed, and wait until morning to fuck you senseless.”

Excuses. Nothing but excuses. She’d been rejected enough times, mostly by her own fucking parents, to know when she wasn’t wanted.

And he’d made it very fucking clear she wasn’t wanted.

“What a load of shit.” Fighting back tears, she slid from his lap and yanked her dress back down. “If you don’t want to fuck me, that’s fine. Just say so. Don’t act all white knight about it.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all.” Eyes narrowing, he rose from his chair and took a step toward her. “I don’t know whyyou’re twisting my words, but it stops right now. You’re lucky you also aren’t in any condition for me to spank some sense into you, because I am sorely tempted to do so, little girl.”

Hope clawed at her chest, painful talons of it, desperate for any little sign that the knife in her heart wasn’t real. “Then do it.” She could hear how desperate she sounded, but she was in too deep to care. “You want to, so do it. I give you my full consent to punish me however you want.”

His expression softened, and for one painful, fleeting moment, she thought she might actually be about to get her way. “Drunk consent isn’t consent, baby. You aren’t thinking clearly.”

So the knife was real. And it was plunged deeper than she’d even realized. “I’m thinking plenty clearly right now. Clearly enough to know I don’t want to waste my time with a man who doesn’t want me. Bye, Holden. Have a nice life.”

Spinning around, she strode out of his office, wobbling a bit on her heels as she walked. A little voice in the back of her head whispered that maybe he was right. Maybe he really was just being a good guy.

But that voice was drowned out by the pain. And the humiliation. This wasn’t the sexy kind of humiliation she’d experienced at the club, but a deeper, more primal kind that tore at the very fabric of her being. The kind that reminded her she’d never be good enough for anyone, even the man who’d made her believe for a few fleeting days that maybe, just maybe, he could actually love her, flawed and imperfect as she was.

“Francesca!” Bursting through his office door, he pinned her with a glare that had butterflies exploding in her stomach even through the hurt and humiliation. “Don’t you dare step one foot on that elevator, little girl.”

As if responding to a cue, the elevator doors opened with a ding and she stepped inside, schooling her expression into asmirk before she turned to face him. “You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore, Holden. We’re done.”

If there was one silver lining to the shit-show this evening had become, it was the look of pure shock on his face as the elevator slid shut between them.

Holden

For a moment, all he could do was stare at the doors that had just shut in his face.

What the hell had just happened?

He didn’t have time to stand around and figure it out. Turning on his heel, he ran for the stairs, his heart hammering against his chest as he slammed the door open.

Why did his office have to be on the top fucking floor?

His lungs were burning by the time he made it to the bottom, but he didn’t stop. And when he burst into the lobby, startling Anderson into leaping up from his chair, he only paused long enough to scan the empty space, his heart dropping into his stomach.

Empty.

“Where’d she go?” he snarled, earning a look of wide-eyed shock from his night guard.

“The redhead? Ah, I think she went east, but I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Fury sparked in Holden’s chest, but he held it back. It wasn’t Anderson’s fault his babygirl had apparently lost her goddamn mind. “Buzz the doors open for me. Now.”

Taking off at a run again, he wasted a few more precious seconds waiting for the doors to click open, and then he was outside, praying Anderson was right as he took off down the street. “Francesca!”

No answer, not that he’d been expecting one. He jogged around the entire block, scanning the dark as best he could for any glimpse of her.

Gone. Like a fucking ghost.

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