Page 11 of Daddy's Best Friend

“Listen, what that guy did to you wasn’t right. You deserve someone who sees your value, because you are worth so much more than just sex. You are smart and funny. You’re caring—hell, I’ve been the boss for decades now and no one has ever brought me doughnuts and coffee until now.” I winked at her as she looked up and smiled, but the tears continued. “Oh, Ella.”

After setting my own muffin and coffee down, I stood and pulled her into my arms. Now was not the time to caution her not to drink. It wasn't the time to lecture or direct her to therapy. Nowwas when she wanted comfort and love, and I was the only one she’d let close enough to do just that. She’d been like a trapped animal, attacking anyone who tried to remove the angry metal clamp from around her heart.

“It’s okay,” I cooed as she cried into my chest. My shirt would be covered in makeup and snot, but I didn’t care. I kissed the top of her head, feeling so heartbroken for her. I also felt things stirring to life in my body that I tried to force away, especially when she wrapped her arms around my torso, and I felt her breasts push against my chest.

“Alan, thank you for listening. Please don’t tell my father.” The way she looked up at me with pleading eyes, I knew I could never betray her.

“Not on my mother’s life.” I kissed her forehead again, the way I used to do with Kirsty. It was a natural reflex, which I regretted the instant Heather thrust the door open. Ella stepped away from me, picking up her coffee and muffin. My head throbbed still, but the adrenaline rush of “being caught” made the effect of the coffee now pumping caffeine into my brain diminish by half. It felt like I got smacked with a hammer.

“Sir, your dry cleaning.” She held the garments high, a smug look on her face as she watched Ella scramble nervously.

“I hope you enjoy the coffee and muffin. I appreciate you listening to my complaining.” She winced as she glanced at Heather then scurried out.

Heather draped the suits over the back of the chair that Ella had just abandoned and scowled at me like a mother hen. “You know that the whole office can see through those windows, right?”

I nodded, keeping my face calm. What I did in my office was my business and this was my company to run as I saw fit.

“Alan, I’m not normally one to judge or be nosy.”

I had to stop myself from scoffing. Heather was just about the biggest gossip in the office, though when it came to really critical things, I could trust her to keep her lips sealed.

“But you’re walking on thin ice. That girl is literally younger than your son. You have a reputation to uphold and what would her father think? He trusted you to help her out.” She shook her head and clicked her tongue before leaving.

As soon as she was gone, I turned toward the exterior-facing windows and adjusted my pants. Hiding an erection while wearing jeans was much easier than doing that while wearing suit pants. I was suddenly grateful for the loose-thread mishap.

9

ELLA

Itried really hard not to think the party was lame. After all, Alan had put it together for me very thoughtfully, but his style was more sophisticated than I was used to. There were no red plastic cups, no trashy dim lighting and bongs. My friends would have thrown a rager, donned our sluttiest skirts and most-revealing tops. We’d have been a keg deep in the night already after three hours.

That wasn’t to say I didn’t enjoy Alan’s party. He’d decorated his yacht with strands of lights, glowing candles, and vases of flowers. Alex and Trevor made a big deal about how he went “all out” with the cake—a custom order from one of the most expensive bakeries in the city. I couldn’t tell if Trevor was jealous that Alan had done all this for me, or if he was suspicious of why Alan had done all this for me.

I had to admit, I was a little suspicious myself.

“Ella, you need to watch how much you’re drinking dear.” My father had stalked up behind me when I approached the beverages table Alan had set up. I felt his hand in the small of my back. It was my fault, to be honest. He had never seen me drink,because I never drank in front of my parents—and this was the reason—the lectures. So, he was totally unaware of how much I could put away. I’d had two small glasses of wine, but on any given night I could down a bottle of Jack and still walk straight.

“I’m good, Dad. I’m watching myself.” I poured the wine into the stemware, wishing at that point that I’d hidden my flask in my purse. Sometimes drinking was the only way to shove emotions down—too bad the more I drank the more they came up.

“Please, do not embarrass yourself in front of the Walters.” His hiss was laced with the stench of wine, and I wondered if he would be the one doing the embarrassing for all of us.

“I’m good, Dad.” I turned and strolled back across the deck of the yacht to the circular couches that surrounded the fire pit.

Alex and Trevor leaned over Trevor’s phone watching a stupid TikTok, so I sat down next to them and leaned over Trevor’s shoulder to watch with them. The pencil skirt I wore didn’t allow much freedom for movement, but I knew when Alan said: “party on his yacht,” he really meant: “wear something fancy.” Being raised a pre-school brat, you learned to speak the language of the wealthy.

“Fuck, that’s sick.” Trevor glanced at me, draped over his shoulder to see the tiny screen. “You like cars too?”

I stared down at the lime green sports car doing a burnout in a grocery store parking lot. Not at all my sort of thing, but it sure beat listening to my dad talk Alan’s ear off about the latest trends in shale oil purification processes. Now, if Alan were talking about the tourism industry, user experience, destinations, that sort of thing, I would be all ears.

My eyes flicked to him, and I expected him to be knee-deep into the conversation with my dad, but he was looking at me. His eyes sparkled and I swore I saw him wink. I blinked a few times, peering down at my wine. Had I imagined that? Had Dad been right? Should I stop drinking?

“Here,” Alex blurted, pointing at Trevor’s screen, “he shows what sort of tires he uses for maximum rubber laying.”

Trevor and Alex oohed and aahed over the stupid sports car. Meanwhile, my body began to feel very achy—like very achy. I retreated from the TikTok-viewing session and put space between me and Trevor. As I scooted away from them, Alan’s gaze returned to my father’s face. I took a gulp of wine and realized I had to use the bathroom, but it had been so long since I was on a yacht, I couldn’t even remember if this was the same yacht Alan had back then.

Crossing my legs, I sat patiently, waiting for a break in the conversation. The way Alan spoke so kindly with my parents, despite Dad’s rising volume—likely brought on by his own alcohol consumption—was calming, arousing even. For a brief second, I let my eyelids flutter shut, the image of Alan on his knees in front of me, between my legs with his fingers buried in me so deep I was cringing, brought another wave of arousal. And the tiny bullet vibrator I hid in my purse after that incident in the office—just in case—called my name.

When I opened my eyes, not really knowing how long I was picturing Alan in such a compromising position, my father was glaring at me. “You’re drinking too much, Ella. If you’re falling asleep at your own birthday party—”

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