Daddy's Girl: A Daddy Issues Novel

by Rebel Wild

  “That’s what I have you for.”

  “Whatever,” I told him with a roll of my eyes as I checked my social media page.

  “How is it a pop quiz when you already know about it?” He took my phone from me and put it on the counter.

  “Because my math teacher is an idiot.” I picked it back up again and put it in my bag before sitting down. He plopped a stiff spoonful of oatmeal on my plate. “Do you like feeding this garbage to your only daughter?” I said as I stuck my spoon in and out of the oatmeal. It was like glue. “You know I’m trying to go vegan,” I said, picking at the sausage patty he put on my plate.

  “I didn’t mean to tempt you. Let me help you out,” he said, reaching for my sausage so he could eat it.

  “No, you don’t.” I smacked his hand before he could take it.

  He chuckled at me while picking up his ringing phone.

  “Work calls,” he said. He gulped his coffee before getting up from the table.

  “Is Mr. Garrett going to give you time off for my birthday?” I asked him. “Or is he going to be a total ass like he was on Christmas?”

  “Criminals don’t stop to rest on Christmas and the DA’s office doesn’t either.”

  “He was a Scrooge and you know it. If you can’t make my party, I’m going to give him the finger next time I see him.”

  “I’d almost miss your party just to see that.” He laughed. “But it’s already approved, pumpkin.” He kissed the top of my head. “Don’t be late for school.”

  “If you’d buy me my car, I wouldn’t be.”

  “If I bought you that car, you’d never make it to school.”

  “There are only a few weeks left, you know? It’s not like it matters anymore.”

  “Apparently, the attendance office didn’t get the memo. They keep leaving me messages, so be on time,” he said, from over his shoulder as he walked out of the room. “And don’t forget your keys.”

  “Whatever.” I broke off a piece of my sausage. “Sabotage,” I said as I ate it. I ate half the bowl of the oatmeal before I dumped it. I looked at the time. If I left right at that moment, I could have made it to first period. I looked around for my keys and groaned when I realized I’d left them upstairs. “I’m never going to make it on time,” I said as I ran back up the stairs.

  Back then, all I wanted was to be done with high school. Now, all I want is to turn back time. Daddy was right about being an adult. It sucks.

  “Have you had lunch?” Mr. Garrett asks, snapping me out of my memory.

  “No, sir.”

  “I’ll have Brianna make us something before we go into the playroom,” he tells me. He looks down at the paper I’ve written my required classes where I left it on my bed. “We’ll discuss your schooling then.”

  Schooling? He sounds like Daddy.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Miss Warren.” He looks at me with a furrowed brow. “To be clear, I have no intention of taking your virginity when we’re in the playroom tonight.”

  “Oh.”

  I lower my head, embarrassed. He cups my chin and lifts it, forcing me to look at him again. My eyes widen in surprise. It’s the first time he’s touched me, and it’s nothing like the touch I’ve been expecting. His hand is warm and rough, but not calloused. I can feel the strength in it.

  “When I fuck you, I plan on savoring it and you’re nowhere near ready to give me what I need for that to happen.”

  “Um, sir,” I start, but stop when I feel my jaw move in his hand. He raises an eyebrow in question for me to continue. “Are you going to punish me tonight?”

  He shakes his head and I want to call him on it after the way he chewed me out for it earlier. He almost gives me what I’m positive is a smile before he catches himself and turns to ice again. He takes his hand from my chin and steps back, tugging at his tie again.

  “Be ready to serve my lunch in thirty minutes,” he demands before turning away from me.

  “Yes, sir,” I say to his retreating back.

  I stand, staring at the door, utterly perplexed by the man who just left my room. He went from demanding to informative to caring to closed off in the span of about ten minutes. How can one person switch emotions so rapidly for no apparent reason? I just can’t figure him out. He was nothing like that when Daddy worked for him. Well, at least he’s not pissed at me. That’s something, and waiting to have sex with me is something better. At least he’s not going to just dive right in. On one hand, I’m happy about it, but on the other hand, it raises my anxiety. It’s like waiting for something bad to happen and I have a feeling having sex with him in that playroom is going to be bad.

  How does he plan on savoring it, and what does me being ready have to do with it? I’ve seen a whole lot of porn and even with the women just lying there, the men are able to do what they need to do. How much participation does he expect from someone who doesn’t love him or even want him?

  “A million dollars’ worth.” I groan.

  My phone rings. Bree’s telling me it’s time to come downstairs for lunch. I hurry and check myself before I head down.

  She hands me Mr. Garrett’s plate with a turkey and cheese sandwich and fruit.

  “Seriously?” I was expecting something fancy and unpronounceable.

  “He’s a turkey guy,” she tells me.

  I carry our plates in the dining room, and Bree carries the iced tea. I’m really craving a soda, but I dare not say anything.

  Maybe I’ll see if she can get some if it doesn’t fall under junk food. Technically, it’s a drink and not food. She leaves us to our meal and I hate to see her go because now I’m left to sit in the awkward silence of eating with my sir. I pick at the turkey until I feel his eyes on me, so I pick the sandwich up and take a bite. I can almost hear the satisfied breath he takes. He really has some weird fetishes. Thank God I’m not a serious vegan or I would be in so much trouble with him.

  “What classes are you interested in taking?” he asks me, breaking the silence, and that’s all the leeway I need to get going.

  I forget myself and blabber on, telling him about the classes I was allowed to take my senior year in high school and the few I still need to get into the Linguistics program.

  “And why linguistics? Why not just major in English Lit?”

  “I had a really bad speech impediment when I was young. It was a phonologist who figured out how to help me. I guess I just fell in love with it. Not that I even practice it.” I laugh.

  “I had no idea you had a speech impediment.”

  “It was a really long time ago and I’ve learned to control it.” I shrug. “But don’t listen to me too hard, or you might hear it.”

  “Now, I have to listen,” he says, and I laugh.

  “I want to minor in literature, by the way,” I tell him. “Hopefully, I can get into the class on classic lit I read about. It’ll probably fill up fast though.”

  “I knew you liked reading, but I had no idea you liked it enough to sit through that.”

  “I love the classics. I want to own a bookstore and collect rare books or maybe appraise them.”

  “Who’s your favorite author, the one that inspires you the most? Shakespeare?”

  “No, I love him, but no.” I hesitate as he studies me, waiting for me to answer.

  “Now I’m intrigued,” he says when I take too long.

  “Promise you won’t laugh?”

  “You have my word.” His face is serious, but he has a glint in his eyes when he says it.

  “Dr. Seuss,” I say sheepishly. He cracks a slight smile, but keeps his word and doesn’t laugh.

  “I would never have guessed that,” he says, clearing his throat.

  “He’s very underrated. People write him off as just being for kids, but I love how he says such profound things so simply and
he makes it all rhyme, no less. That takes skill.”

  “I never thought of it that way. I may have to take a second look at the ol’ Cat in the Hat.”

  “Please do.” I laugh.

  I’m surprised when he tells me he likes to read, but can’t seem to find the time for it. The fact that he likes to read in itself isn’t surprising as his library is a testament to that, but the fact that he shared the information with me was shocking. He took it a step further and told me he loved reading Hunter S. Thompson. He was impressed that I’d read him. I’d found an old copy of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas when I went through my dad’s dresser drawer. I’ve been dying to hear someone else’s take on it. Mr. Garrett seems thrilled at my perspective and that I can hold my own debating him.

  Finally, he orders me to clear, and I gather our plates to load the dishwasher. I return to the dining room where he sits waiting for me. I stand before him, waiting for instructions.

  “I’ll spend the remainder of the day working in my office,” he tells me. “After you get signed up for your classes, I want you to spend some time decorating your room. It’s your space and it should be enjoyable for you. Your time is yours until dinner. That will be all for now, Miss Warren.”

  “Yes, sir,” I tell him and quickly leave him be.

  I’m almost giddy as I lie barefoot across my bed signing up for my classes, but it has very little to do with them and more to do with the conversation I just had with Mr. Garrett. Never have I had so much satisfaction in a conversation, and I tut at myself for being so easily swayed.

  Once I’m done, I switch over to the decorating website. I order a comfortable outdoor chair and a little table for my private patio and a few pictures for the walls along with a throw to go over the foot of my bed. It reminds me of something Mrs. Leland would knit for me.

  Bored, I slip on flats and head to the library to do some reading. I take my laptop so that I can check the required reading list. I want to get a jump on things. Hopefully, Mr. Garrett has one of the books in his collection. I’m close by his office door and it’s been left open just a smidge. I don’t mean to listen, but his yelling has got my attention, and I stand frozen in place at his door.

  “You’re not to question her again,” he says. “I’m aware of the investigation, but are you aware of why you’re still in charge of it? Good. Remember that or your ass will be in prison with your ex-partner in crime right where you belong. She’s off-limits.”

  I hear him slam the phone down so hard he probably broke it. I wonder what has him so pissed and who’s off-limits? I think it might be Dalton he’s talking to, but why would he get that pissed about him questioning me? I hear him moving closer to the door, so I tiptoe to the library, hoping he doesn’t come out and catch me. In the safety of the empty room, I relax.

  Finding the Canterbury Tales on my required reading list, I set my alarm and get lost in reading.

  “Sydney.” Bree comes in the library and I look up. I quickly look at my phone to see if I miss set the time. “Sorry to interrupt. I just came to tell you that Tristan had to go out so he won’t be joining you for dinner tonight.”

  “Oh,” I say and I am actually a little disappointed.

  “Why don’t you have dinner with us,” she offers as she must have heard the letdown in my voice.

  “I don’t want to intrude.”

  “Oh, stop it. We love company,” she says, and I am sure she’s speaking only for herself.

  “Okay,” I tell her. “Why not?”

  Chapter Seven

  “Bree, this is the best meal I’ve ever had,” I tell her as I fork the last bite of my applesauce-glazed pork chop and put it in my mouth. “Mmm, so sweet and tender.”

  “I have to agree with you,” Joe says to me as he scrapes the glaze to the edge of his plate with a spoon. He uses his thumb to help scoop the sauce up, making sure to get it all. “Living with you, Babe, I’d be huge if I didn’t work out every day.”

  She grins proudly.

  “I love when people enjoy my cooking,” she tells us. “Especially when they’re experimental recipes.”

  “Well, I’ll be your guinea pig,” I say, causing Joe to laugh.

  He has lightened up considerably throughout our meal. I think maybe I’m growing on him enough to where he doesn’t look like he’s annoyed with me every minute.

  “I think you and I are neck and neck to fill that position,” he says.

  “Well, I’m willing to play dirty for it. I’ll help her with the cleanup.”

  Bree laughs, and Joe’s about to respond when Mr. Garrett fills the doorway.

  I tense to his presence. I’m amazed at how instinctively I morph into a statue.

  “Damn, bro,” Joe says. “What a way to buzz kill.”

  I’m unsure of how to act, so I become so interested in my empty plate that my eyes automatically look down to thoroughly examine it.

  “Miss Warren,” Mr. Garrett says, only acknowledging me. Like the dog that he’s trained me to be, I quickly get up to do as he demands. Regrettably, I don’t have time to thank Bree and Joe for letting me dine with them. “Have you had enough to eat?” He asks, leading me into the great room.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then I want you in the playroom in fifteen minutes. Bra and panties only.” He hands me a key and walks away, heading toward his bedroom.

  “Yes, sir,” I still say, but not loud enough for him to hear me.

  I hurry to my room to get ready. I don’t have time to think as I rush around. I take a shower and dress in just my very unsexy white cotton panties and bra, hoping that will turn him off. I slip on a blue silk robe and walk over to the playroom. My hand shakes as I place the key in the door and unlock it.

  The smell of fresh pine, lemon, and leather hit me all at once as I stand looking around the room. I close the door, hook my robe on the back of it, and get into position on my knees. The room is warm, but I am still chilled to the bone and shaking like a leaf. My heart is racing, my breathing is uneven, and my knees hurt as I wait for Mr. Garrett. I know he won’t have sex with me tonight. He told me so. But I don’t know what he’s planning to do instead, and that has me terrified.

  Get a grip on yourself, Sydney. You know he’s not a sadist! Just calm down and don’t blow this. Don’t overreact! You have to do this part right. Everything depends on it.

  My inner musings are put to an end when the door opens and Mr. Garrett walks in. My eyes fall to my hands that are resting palms down on my knees. I am trying to be as still as possible, but with my nervousness, it is proving to be difficult.

  “In the center of the room,” he says.

  “Yes, sir,” I say my usual line before I get up to do what wants.

  My heart is pounding in my ears and I will myself not to drop dead from a panic attack. I stand, trying hard not to move. As he walks away, I steal a glance to see what he’s going to get, but he turns around too fast and I lower my eyes to the floor so he doesn’t catch me. His bare feet appear as he stands before me. Oh, my God, am I going to have to kiss his feet? Nope, I won’t do it. I will not do it. I better stop thinking it before it somehow puts the idea in his head.

  “Hands,” he says. I hold out both to him and watch as he binds one of my wrists with a brown leather restraint.

  The inside is lined with soft beige synthetic fur. He slips a finger inside to test its snugness before he moves on to my other wrist. Both of my hands are then yanked high over my head, causing me to look up. I watch him hook the strap of one restraint and then the other to two large carabiners in the grated ceiling. He shakes them to make sure I am secure.

  “Look at me, Foxy,” he says and my cautious green eyes meet his cold dark ones. He looks like he’s about to beat the crap out of me. My hands violently twist as I struggle against the restraints. “Be still,” he says, making me stop.

>   “Yes, sir.”

  He takes a step back to admire his work. I’m standing here in nothing but my underwear, feet flat on the ground, and my arms tied in a victory position. His stone face turns into a devilish smirk as his eyes roam over my body.

  “Did you think the cotton underwear would deter me?”

  “I…” I start to truly answer him until I catch myself. “Yes, sir.”

  He clicks his tongue, tutting at me. Any other time, I would be amused, but not as I stand helplessly dangling like a fish caught on his line.

  “You underestimate yourself, Foxy,” he says. “Nothing you wear could make you less appealing to me and therein lies my problem.” I watch as he goes to the far wall and retrieves a dark brown riding crop. My bulging eyes and futile attempts to shy away from him as he nears me doesn’t go unnoticed. “If I planned to hurt you tonight, I would have told you by now.”

  I nod my head.

  “Yes, sir,” I say quickly correcting myself, but he lets it slide. If he doesn’t want to hurt me yet, he surely will by the time I’m done messing up.

  He takes the tip of the crop and places it at my left forearm, just below the restraints. He slowly runs it down my arm, dragging it over my chest, down my belly, and across my pelvis. The cool leather quickly warms as it glides over my skin. It comes to a stop on my right butt cheek.

  I look back at him, as he’s now standing behind my right shoulder, to try to see what he plans to do next until he motions with his head for me to face forward. I feel the crop make tiny circles on my butt through my panties. He lifts it and brings it down again hard, giving me a good smack. I jump, catching my breath in surprise at the tiny zing it gives me.

  My nerve endings are awake in the spot I was just hit. I feel the crop as it circles another spot on my behind. He raises it and smacks me hard for a second time. I jump a little as that zing happens again. He hits me twice more before I hear the crop hit the floor. I feel him as he comes up behind me. Sweeping my hair to one side, he leans in close so that his lips are brushing just lightly at my ear.