Page 41 of Chaining Daisy
“You’re just too picky,” Lily responds. “But Daisy’s not looking to be picky. She needs some practice guys to up her dating game.”
I spin back around in my seat and face the room, nodding through all of their advice, though I don’t want to be a part of any game unless it’s run by the man downstairs.
When my phone pings with a text, it’s almost a relief, because I can break eye contact and drop the fake smile that’s making my cheeks start to ache.
Come see me before you leave.
My throat dries out. I have no idea what that text means.Is it good? Is it bad? Is he still furious? Of course, it’s not like he’s going to put hearts or anything sweet into a text the girls might see but—
“Why does Gunnar want to see you?” Rose asks, leaning over my shoulder and reading.
“I … maybe to give me one of those lame pre-date lectures?” I have no clue.
“Psh, you’re in college. What the hell does he expect?” Lily rolls her eyes.
“My family expects a shit-ton and Gunnar Strong is pretty much on their level of uptight,” Violet retorts.
“He’s not planning to pick who Daisy marries—so I disagree with you,” Lily shoots back.
This conversation is going to make me puke. I stand up in my boots and realize just how queasy I am when I feel dizzy.
“You okay?” Rose’s hand comes to my shoulder, rubbing lightly.
I give her a wan grin. “Just nervous. I’m gonna go get this lecture over with.”
“Tell him to get fucked!” Violet calls out as I pull open my door.
The girls’ giggling fills the room and I close the door on it, leaning back against it for a second and blowing out a breath. Violet has no idea how Gunnar would twist that phrase or how I’d want him to.
The walk down the stairs feels like one of the longest walks of my life, like a space walk, where each step looks like it’s in slow-motion. It definitely feels like gravity has left my stomach levitating inside my torso … I’m so damn nervous.
I knock on the arched wooden door that leads to Gunnar’s office and then wait stiffly in the hall until he calls out, “Come in.”
I push the door open but keep my eyes downcast, already knowing he’s not going to like what he sees. The jean skirt I’m wearing has the kind of rips that showcase the jean pockets and it barely covers my ass.
“Shut it.”
I turn and press it closed, ensuring the latch clicks. I don’t want the girls overhearing whatever this talk is going to be.
“Lock it.”
I twist the lock into place and I swear my stomach shoots out to the side just like that bolt.
When I slowly pivot back to face him, I realize Gunnar’s standing behind his desk. Newly published studies are spread out on the surface—he’s always reading about breakthroughs in this or that. A five o’clock shadow darkens the lower half of his face. When my gaze travels down his arms, I notice he’s rolled up his white collared shirt. His forearms flex as he leans over the desk. Flicking my eyes up to his is a mistake, because his look is blacker than midnight.
“Not a fan of that outfit.”
His words smack me—even though I was expecting them, I don’t think I fully realized how his disapproval would make me want to sink beneath the floor.
“I know,” I whisper, casting my eyes down to my feet and toeing the Southwestern area rug.
“No matter what you wear, you’re my girl, do you hear me? No one else’s.”
This time, the fierceness in his tone makes me tingle in delight instead of disappointment.
“Yes, Daddy,” I respond, daring to lift my gaze.
God, he looks so good. Huge and strong, with a presence that fills the very room. I want to run to him. But I also want to make him proud, and to do that I need to follow his rules. Daddy initiates playtime. His eyes trace over me. Up and down. Up and down. I wait.
