Page 36 of Daddy's Game

You’re so sweet.

I frowned and typed out my response with stiff fingers.

You shouldn’t still be up. You have an early day tomorrow.

Whatever, taskmaster.

She followed it up with an emoji with its tongue sticking out. Well, she could blow me off now, but something told me she would regret it in the morning.

I intended to take her training quite seriously. And I was going to make sure that she did, too.

13

GRACE

When my doorbell first went off, I was certain it was only a dream.

After all, who in their right mind would be ringing my doorbell when it was still dark outside? Only, ringing the doorbell is something of a misnomer. This person was leaning on the button, applying continuous pressure. Which resulted in a discordant screech that had me awakening with an annoyed groan.

“What in the actual fuck?”

I threw the covers off of me and stomped into the hall, barely remembering to put on an old t-shirt before leaving the bedroom. I focused eyes still lost in dreamworld on the front door. I was so angry I didn’t even check the peephole first. I just flung the door open.

I had expected the incessant ringing to stop when I opened the door. It did not. Instead, I was treated to the sight of Brock, showered and dressed and wearing nice cologne, standing in the hallway with his finger mashing my doorbell button.

“Brock?”

“Good morning.”

He let go of the doorbell at last. I put my hands on my hips and glared at him.

“Morning? It’s still dark outside. The sun’s not anywhere near up.”

“Morning for successful people starts earlier than the sun. It’s not even that early.”

I glanced at the kitchen clock. The rooster’s wings pointed out the time, and I was not happy.

“It’s four forty nine!”

“Yes, we’re running a bit late. Can’t be helped. Let’s go.”

He took my hand and started dragging me out of the apartment.

“Hold up! I need to shower, and get dressed, and I don’t even have my phone or my purse.”

His gaze flicked over me, lingering for just a moment on my legs. The oversized t-shirt reached just above my knees, so it was decent, if still embarrassing.

“No time. You’re getting a new wardrobe today. Grab your purse, your keys, and your phone.”

“Another new wardrobe? I have a closet full of nice clothes.”

“Those aren’t business clothes. Well, I suppose some of them could be seen that way, but you need to put on some real power suits.”

“Power suits?”

I snagged my purse, making sure my phone was tucked inside, and then slipped into a pair of old pink crocs and headed out the door. I could have argued, insisted that I put on real clothes or even shower. Yet there was something about Brock that made me want to obey him.

It wasn’t his authoritative tone, or uber confident manner. It was more that I knew he was coming from a place of wanting to help me. Since he had my best interests at heart, weird considering we were technically enemies, I felt free to submit to his commands.

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