Page 2 of Daddy's Addiction

Of course, the man knows each and every fucking move I make. I’m thirty-one years old and my father still tracks me like a goddamn child.

I wonder if he realizes the whore he was referring to is none other than his favorite secretary? I smirk in delight at the thought of pissing him off. Maybe I should tell him? See how much he likes having something so important to him taken away.

“Hurry the fuck up and get me off. I have shit to do,” I snap out to the women like the bastard I am. Closing my eyes, I imagine it’s her sucking me off, the woman I’ve spent my life reminiscing about. The only woman I could ever consider settling down with. The only woman I ever kissed and the only woman I will ever give my heart to.

The one they took away from me.

* * *

Irest my arms on the back of the office couch. Aggravation builds at the thought of being here when I could be at home in bed with two women getting my cock serviced. My body craves the buzz sex can sometimes give me. It takes the edge off the urge I have to lose myself completely to drugs.

My father’s nose turns up, his lip curls in disgust, and his eyes travel up and down my body as if he can see every dirty little detail that ensued last night. I fidget under his scrutiny, tugging on the collar of my shirt as heat travels over me and perspiration gathers on my forehead, yet my mouth is drier than the desert.

“Are you withdrawing again?” He sighs condescendingly, with disapproval lacing his tone.

My eyes lock with his. “No. I told you I only do it recreationally now.”

“Mmm.” He muses, clucking his tongue like he doesn’t believe a single word I utter. He takes a while to finally drag a calculated finger over his lip as he appraises me.

I’ll never be good enough in my father’s eyes. Not unless I become one of them. Even after I married Zenya to help with my father’s business, I wasn’t good enough.

“I have to go away on business.” He sighs again.

I don’t know why he’s telling me this—he never normally bothers. So, instead of giving him my attention, I glance away, uninterested in his business, and he knows it. The whole point of my marrying Zenya was for them to leave me the hell alone with my inheritance, and still, they wanted more. They took me for a fool. I should have known then and there that there would be more stipulations in order for me to receive it. The assholes expected me to provide them an heir, no less. I scoff at the memory. As fucking if.

“Zenya’s daughter is due to stay with me,” he adds, and I face him in confusion. “She’s home from boarding school for the holidays.” His tone almost sounds sad at the fact he will not be around to see her.

I roll my eyes. Trust my father to have more compassion for someone non-blood-related rather than his own flesh and blood.

“What’s this got to do with me?” I sound like a callous bastard, and, well, I am one. But why should I care about her kid? Especially since the bastards didn’t even inform me she had one. Where my brothers got their virginal brides, I got a widow with an expenditure. She’s damaged goods. Like me, I guess.

“She’ll be staying with you.” He glares at me.

My spine snaps straight as I sit forward, and my jaw locks as I barely manage to hide the fury bubbling through me. “Over my dead fucking body!” I spit with venom.

He holds his hand up to stop me from going further, as though I’m nothing more than a trained dog.

I know better than to argue with him. I’ve seen the wrath of my father. I know his ability and the lengths he can go to to get what he wants. If not through violence, then manipulation. My fists clench at my sides, and my body vibrates with anger at him intruding on my life a-fucking-gain.

“She will be staying with you.” He stares into my eyes with certainty. The same dark eyes as mine—soulless, dead.

Like mine.

My lips move to argue without thinking. “What about the others? Can’t she stay with one of them instead?”

My father’s mouth falls open and his eyebrows shoot up in shock. “Your brothers work, Tommy. They have their own responsibilities, and you have yours.” His eyes never leave mine.

“She’s not my fucking responsibility,” I snarl back. “I didn’t even know about her until after Zenya died. I don’t even know the kid. Nor do I want to,” I grit out, then clench my lips shut tight, trying to refrain from going further.

He exhales heavily, unable to hide his disappointment. “Jade. Her name’s Jade. And you’ll look after her like she’s your own.” He raises an eyebrow, and his tone leaves no room for discussion.

Shocked, I make an obnoxious choking noise in the back of my throat. The only woman I wanted a child with is long gone, and I sure as hell don’t want some other fucker’s kid hanging around me. Just because he has a soft spot for the Little Orphan Annie doesn’t mean I do.

Ever since Zenya passed away six years ago, my father has taken that kid in and been a better parent to her than he ever was to any of us. I made a point of avoiding his place at the best of times, so it was easy to stay away from the kid who, by law, is, in fact, my legal responsibility. Just another thing they fucked me over with. I grind my teeth at the reminder of the injustice.

Until now, my father has asked nothing from me where the girl is concerned, so I’ve never asked about her in return. Why would I? I live my life and they live theirs.

“How long will you be gone?”

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