Page 1 of Daddy's Babies: Johnnie's Story
Chapter 1
Carly
Asigh escapes as I leave the café, looking down at my phone trying to figure out where else I went two days ago. I turned off the tracking shit on it, so it’s not overly helpful, but I do tend to take photos of things I see that I like throughout the day. I’m a bit scatterbrained, I guess you could call it. It’s not ADHD or ADD, I was tested for those things when I was younger and my teachers couldn’t handle the way I’d zone out, or just try to get up from my seat ignoring them because I wanted to go look out the window. The results were too low for me to be labelled as either, but honestly that was years ago and who knows how accurate it was. I know I don’t always focus the way I should, so I do what I can to keep from being completely spacey.
Such as taking photos of things I like helps me remember what I did and also where it was, hence, where I’ve been. Unfortunately, I didn’t take many two days ago, yet I still managed to lose some documents that my father asked me to bring to him at work. He didn’t tell me how important they were or to bring them straight to him, so I made it a task for the day rather than take them straight to him.
But somewhere along the way, I lost them, because when I got home two days ago, they weren’t with me any longer, and now my father’s been riding my ass, yelling at me to find them.
He came home last night, furious because his boss came down on him for losing the contract, and in turn, my father then took it out on me. Verbally only thankfully, but I still hate being yelled at, being looked at like I’m some screwup.
I’m still scrolling through my photos trying to remember where I went and what I did as I move across the side street. A scream falls from my lips when hands grab me, pulling me back onto the curb just as a horn blares, a car blazing past, and I see the driver flip me off as though it was my fault. The pedestrian walk light is on, so I had the damn right of way.
“You might have but you can’t guarantee drivers care or are really paying attention,” a deep voice behind me says, and I turn my face, my breath stopping as I crane my neck up to catch sight of a gorgeous face frowning down at me.
His words make me realize I’d been muttering to myself over that car, and I start to thank the man when he continues, a scowl on his face as he looks at my phone. “Try staying off your phone when you’re at crosswalks. Then you won’t need your ass saved.”
My thanks dies on my lips and my jaw clenches as the huge man walks away, leaving me stewing the rest of the day. Completely forgetting about my search until after I got home with a shopping bag of groceries for a pasta dish that I saw advertised downtown which sounded so delicious I had to make it.
“What the hell is this?” my father demands when he gets home, finding me elbow deep in flour. “God damnit Carly! You know I have a business dinner tonight. I told you that I needed the steaks ready at seven. It’s right fucking there!” he adds smacking the front of the fridge where the notepad is, and I let out a grimace at forgetting.
“Did you find the file?” he continues and for a moment, I can’t recall what he’s talking about, which only makes him madder. By the time he finishes running through all of the insults he can lay at my feet, it’s nearly six and I know I don’t have time to put together a steak dinner for six. For one, I don’t even have steaks in the fridge. There might be some in the freezer, but my father would never serve frozen steaks to whoever is coming to his house. It’s fine for me and him, but not guests.
I grab up my phone, putting in an order to the steakhouse that’s just down the street. Thankfully my friend Chloe is working and understands my urgency, promising to have the meals to me in time. I grab up a bottle of wine, opening it to breathe before quickly setting the dining room table. Somewhere along the way, my father stopped bitching in my ear, and I quickly wipe myself down in my room before throwing on a dress.
My phone buzzes as I hear voices inside the living room, and my father’s boss’ voice is the loudest of all of them. I can’t stand the man. He just makes me shudder in distaste, and knowing he’s here tonight with everything else going on just makes the night worse.
I hurry down to the lobby, grabbing the catering style food from Chloe, and press a huge tip into her hands for saving my ass. She’s the only friend I have, and I don’t want her to think I’m taking advantage of her. “You saved my ass, girl.”
“Anything for my girlie,” Chloe says, giving me a hug that calms me before wiping at my cheek making me curious. “You’ve got flour on your cheek, up by your ear.”
“I was making pasta. I saw an ad for chicken cacciatore earlier that looked amazing and all I could think of was to try out the new pasta attachment for my mixer. So naturally, I forgot about everything else including this stupid dinner for my father.”
“Don’t worry about it, I got to get outside for a bit so that’s a plus,” Chloe promised before she headed back to work, letting me get the food upstairs and inside using the “servants” door rather than the front door. Our condo is in one of the oldest buildings in town and it includes an old “servants” quarters with it. It flows straight into the kitchen, and I use it more often than the front door even if it is just me and my father living here. A cleaner comes out twice a week to get what I don’t done, but beyond that, it’s usually just us.
I wish that were the case for tonight but it’s not and I quickly divvy out the food onto plates before moving it into the dining room and letting my father know it’s ready via a text message. He doesn’t like me being seen but if for any reason I am, he wouldn’t want me wearing the jeans and flour covered blouse I was in earlier.
I move around the kitchen, finishing making my chicken cacciatore with the noodles. It smells amazing and tastes even better, letting me savor it knowing I’m definitely making it again. I love cooking. It’s one of the things that can keep my attention straight through. Granted I may come up with other meal ideas as I make whatever I’m working on at that moment, but it never stops me from remembering that I’m cooking.
I have the kitchen almost clean when the door swings open and my father moves into the space. It wouldn’t be so bad if his boss wasn’t behind him. Most of me wants to crouch down on the floor and hide, but I can’t as their gazes land on me.
Most of what they say goes in one ear and out the other as I try to ignore the way my father’s boss’ eyes on me makes me feel.
“I assured Brent that you would have the papers back in our possession by the end of the week,” my father says, and I bite my tongue to keep from laughing.
“I’ll do my best,” I state, and it’s clear that Brent doesn’t like that, but I don’t work for him so he can’t fire me. My father’s another story though.
“You’d better. If I lose this contract because of you, you won’t like my response girl,” Brent warns before they leave the room, letting me calm myself before I go to clean up the dining room.
It’s nearly midnight before I drop into bed, my brain trying to recall what I did, where I went where I might have lost the folder at, but all I can think of are those blue green eyes from earlier. They keep pulling me back to that handsome face, making parts of me that have never warmed, warm fiercely.
He had some stubble, perfectly groomed, stubble and it brings several books to mind, wondering if it’d feel as good between my legs as what they claim. I drift off to that thought and when I wake, my damp thighs say my body was fully responding to my dreams. So many hot, dirty thoughts of that gorgeous man taking my body, claiming me as his. It takes me a few more minutes to get up and ready because most of me wants to fall straight back into that dream and stay there.
The day didn’t go well, especially not when some security guard tried to throw me out of a store when I was asking the girls behind the counter if anyone turned in a yellow folder. His hand was wrapped around my wrist, dragging me out, when someone stopped him as I let out a yelp of pain. The last thing I expected was to see the face of the same man from yesterday demanding the security guard let me go, and I hurried out as soon as I was free, not ready to face the man. Especially not with my dream from last night popping straight back into mind.
The following day isn’t any better and over the weekend, I know my father’s pissed that I haven’t found the file yet. I spend most of it looking and on Sunday evening, I spot a bag that for some reason seems familiar. I move after the girls carrying them, trying to get their attention, but before I can run over to them, a guy moves forward out of a dark doorway and starts mouthing off.
It makes my breath stall when a second joins him, the words he’s spewing make me feel even worse and I start walking backwards away from them, hoping to get back to the end of the street and leave before they do something stupid. I’m not exactly the kind of girl that can easily defend herself. I mean, I’m five-five so these guys’ five-nine, five-ten isn’t that much bigger than me, but I’m not exactly in shape.
