Page 37 of Daddy's Game

That didn’t mean I wasn’t a little salty with him on the limo ride to his place on the upper east side. The leather seat felt cold on my bare legs. I crossed my arms over my chest because nature’s thermometers were standing at full attention.

“How many residences do you have just in this one city?” I griped as we pulled outside of a building I had never been inside before.

“Counting the crash pad I have at my Manhattan office, four.”

I felt extra self conscious crossing the building’s posh lobby. Fortunately at that hour there weren’t many people around. Once we got to his condo, yet again on the top floor, I felt only a momentary relief.

A pair of attendants in white, one male and one female, stood by at attention when we entered. The woman stepped forward.

“The ice baths are ready, Sir.”

“Excellent. I’ll want a Mediterranean breakfast for two this morning. And put the coffee fixings out as well.”

“Did she just say ice bath?”

I shivered just thinking about it. I wanted a nice, hot shower first thing in the morning, not an ice cold bath.

“Yes. It does wonders for your circulation, and improves mental capacity and functionality. It’s the secret of all top tier performers.”

We entered a chamber adjacent to his eat-in kitchen. My eyes widened at the sight of a bathtub built into the marble floor. Predictably, it was filled with ice water. A polished wooden tub sat beside it on four clawed feet. Clearly someone had lugged it up here and filled it.

“You’re shorter, so you get the wooden tub. I need room to stretch out.”

With that, he began to unbutton his shirt. My eyes went wide when he slid out of the garment, revealing his impeccably toned torso. Broad shoulders tapered down to his narrow waist before flaring out into muscled hips and thighs.

“What are you waiting for? Strip.”

My mouth flew open with a gasp. He meant strip for the bath, but something stirred inside of me at his edict. Something that made me wish we were in the bedroom rather than the bathroom.

I pulled off the shirt, figuring he’d seen my breasts already. That didn’t mean Brock didn’t take a moment to appreciate them with his gaze. When I put one leg in the tub, instinct took over and I pulled it back out with a yelp.

“That’s cold,” I gasped.

“Of course it is. It’s an ice bath.”

He smirked at me as he lowered himself into the bath. I didn’t look directly at his privates, but I was keenly aware he’d exposed himself to me. Sweat broke out on my forehead as he eased his body into the tub.

Brock grimaced a bit, and even gasped a few times, but soon he was immersed up to his neck in the water.

“It’s not so bad once you get all the way in,” he said, teeth on the verge of chattering.

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“You said you were going to do whatever I said.”

I shot him a look, but he wasn’t kidding. I tried again, this time bracing my hands on the edge of the tub and lowering myself in like he had. I shivered and groaned and squealed, but I managed to force my body under the water.

“Why are we suffering like this?”

“Just trust me.”

I have to admit, the ice bath did wake me up, and then some. My body was a bit stiff when we got out, but fortunately a hot shower was only a few feet away. I could feel Brocks’ gaze on me while I warmed up. That monster just dried off and put his clothes back on without needing to warm up again.

When I finished my shower, I discovered there were matching black bra and panties waiting for me. Plain, but luxurious material that seemed to caress my body. No underwire in the bra, either, which I was grateful for.

I found no other clothes, until Brock summoned me into his den. There, with a spectacular panoramic view of the city as a backdrop, I tried on dozens of outfits at the behest of Brock’s personal designer. She was about seventy years old, rail thin, and dressed on the cutting edge of fashion.

She and Brock nattered a bit over her clothing choices, but he usually relented. I took it as he trusted her expertise, even if he felt the need to put his two cents in.

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