Page 86 of Daddy Down Under

The bathroom was my pride and joy, all sleek marble and chrome with a deep soaking tub that could easily fit two people. As I started running the water, adding the fancy bath salts my housekeeper always kept stocked but were rarely used, I heard Ocean’s voice from the other room, ordering what sounded like Thai food.

The domesticity of it all hit me then—him taking care of me, ordering dinner, making sure I took time to decompress. It felt right in a way I couldn’t quite explain. I sank into the hot water, letting out a long breath as the heat began to work its magic on my tense muscles. Ocean hadn’t been wrong that I carried tension in my shoulders, though I hadn’t realized how much until now. Funny how he always saw these things before I became aware of them myself.

“You okay in there?” Ocean called from the bedroom.

“Yeah.” The word was there, right on the tip of my tongue.Daddy.I wanted to say it so badly, wanted to fully embrace this dynamic between us, but something held me back. Maybe it was the newness of it all, or maybe I was still adjusting to this side of myself that I’d kept buried for so long. But I had time. Ocean wouldn’t rush me.

When I emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in my thick robe, the smell of Thai food greeted me. Ocean had set up dinner on my massive dining room table, though he’d moved everything to one end so we could sit close together. The city lights twinkled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, creating a backdrop that had impressed countless hookups but had never felt intimate until now.

“This place is something else,” Ocean said, pulling out my chair. “It’s like being suspended in the sky.” He settled into his seat, taking in the panoramic view of a snow-covered Central Park. “Though I bet it gets lonely up here in the clouds.”

His words hit closer to home than I wanted to admit. I pushed my pad Thai around with my chopsticks. “It did. But not tonight.”

Ocean’s hand found mine across the table, his thumb stroking my knuckles. “Not anymore.”

The certainty in his voice made my chest tight with emotion. I’d filled this apartment with expensive art and designer furniture, but it had never felt like home until Ocean walked in, bringing life and warmth to the cold, modern space with nothing more than his presence.

“Not anymore,” I echoed, squeezing his hand. The city lights caught in his eyes, making them look even more like oceans, deep and mysterious and endless.

He held my gaze for a long moment, then released my hand to dig into his green curry. “Food’s getting cold. Eat.”

The command was gentle but firm, and I obeyed without thought. The first bite reminded me how hungry I was. Lunch seemed like it had been yesterday, but that was also because my body was still so messed up from the time difference.

“You know what I love about New York?” Ocean asked between bites. “How the City feels like it’s in constant motion, like waves crashing against a shore. Melbourne’s got its own rhythm, more like a gentle rocking of the waves, but here?” He gestured at the window with his chopsticks. “It’s like a storm at sea, beautiful and chaotic.”

I smiled at the metaphor, which should’ve been so cheesy and over the top but fit him to a T. “I used to hate the chaos. Now I barely notice it.”

“That’s because you’re part of it.” He reached over to steal a piece of chicken from my pad Thai. “You’re like one of those sleek boats cutting through rough waters, making it look effortless when, really, you’re fighting the current every step of the way.”

The accuracy of that observation made me pause. “I do feel like that sometimes.”

“I know. That’s why you need someone to be your anchor. To help you weather the storm.”

“You are.” The words caught in my throat, thick with emotion. Ocean watched me, patient and understanding, giving me time to find my voice. “You are,” I finally managed. “My anchor.”

His smile lit up his whole face. “Good. Because I plan on sticking around for a long time.”

We finished dinner with easy conversation. Ocean told me about his favorite surfing spots in Australia, his eyes lighting up as he described the perfect waves. I shared stories about my early days in business, including some of my most spectacular failures.

“You should’ve seen me in my first board meeting,” I said, laughing at the memory. “Twenty-five years old, wearing a suit that cost more than my rent but still didn’t fit right, trying to convince a room full of sixty-year-old men to trust me with their money.”

Did they?

“Eventually. But only after I’d sweated through that expensive suit.”

Ocean’s laugh was warm and rich. “I bet you were adorable.”

“I was terrified.”

“That too.” He pushed his empty plate aside and stretched, his shirt riding up to reveal a tantalizing strip of skin. “But look at you now. Bringing down corporate spies with the FBI.”

The reminder sobered me. “I hope this works.”

“It will.” Ocean’s conviction was absolute. “And even if it doesn’t, we’ll figure something else out.” His use of “we” sent warmth spreading through my chest. “Now, come here.”

I looked up, caught off guard. “What?”

“Come. Here.” Each word was a gentle command that bypassed my brain and went straight to my core. Before I knew what I was doing, I stood, drawn to him like he had his own gravitational pull.

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