Page 198 of Daddy, Sir

Panic, an emotion he was not at all familiar with, rose up, choking him with icy fingers as he fumbled his phone from his pocket. Pulling up her contact info, he hit the button to call her.

No answer.

“Motherfucker!”

Where the hell was she? It seemed far too quick for her to have called a ride, but the thought of her behind the wheel in her state filled him with so much fury and terror he couldn’t see straight. He hadn’t even thought to ask when she’d shown up at his office, but if he found out she’d put herself in that kind of danger, she wasn’t going to sit comfortably for a month.

Just as he was seriously considering calling in a few favors with the local cops, his phone buzzed in his hand. A text, from his babygirl.

I’m in an Uber, on my way home. Don’t call again. Ever.

Like hell he wouldn’t.

But maybe he should give her the night. Let her calm down, sleep off the alcohol. And tomorrow they could talk like calm, rational adults. Right before he put her over his knee and paddled her ass so red she learned to never, ever walk out on him like that again.

Clinging to the hope he’d have a chance to even touch her again, he tapped out his own message.

Let me know when you’re home. We will talk tomorrow, little girl.

Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he turned and headed toward his office. And tried not to imagine the worst.

Frankie

Squeezing her eyes shut against the pounding in her head, Frankie rolled onto her back with a groan.

How much had she had to drink last night?

Way too much, starting with the whiskey she’d had before she’d gone to see?—

“Fuck.”

Slowly pushing herself up in her bed so as not to anger her already annoyed stomach, she reached for her phone, squinting blearily at the screen.

Let me know when you’re home. We will talk tomorrow, little girl.

Francesca. If you don’t let me know you’re safe, I’m going to come check on you myself.

Fine. I’m on my way.

Apparently she’d texted him back after that, with just one single word.

Home.

Tears clogged in her throat as she read his final message to her before he’d obviously given up.

Good girl. Text me when you’re up and ready to talk in the morning. If I don’t hear from you by noon, I’m going to call. And for the sake of your ass, you better answer. We aren’t done here, Francesca. Not by a long shot.

Bit by bit, the pieces of last night slid together in her mind. Getting way too drunk at home, checking his socials, deciding to surprise him at the office in an outfit her mother would have had a coronary over if she’d seen it.

Surprising him. Trying to seduce him. Being told to stop.

But instead of the anger she remembered from the night before, now she just felt sick to her stomach. In the cold light of day, she could see how she’d overreacted.

No. She hadn’t just overreacted. She’d been completely out of line. Holden had done the right thing, the honorable thing, and she’d repaid him by throwing a tantrum and storming out of his office.

What the hell waswrongwith her?

Too many things to count, as her mother would gladly attest to. Though she sure as hell did try most days.

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