He handed her the flowers with a heavy sigh. "I also wanted to say I'm sorry about what happened at the party."
Ashley looked up from the flowers in her hands and raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't your fault," she told him, confused at the tight look on his face.
"That Daddy," he coughed and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck with a grimace, "the man who was with you was more than likely someone I knew. One of my friends, one of my best friends, so I feel responsible in some part for the past few days."
She shook her head. "You shouldn't. I wanted it."
"Ash, he shouldn't have left you." Silas gave her a sad look, and she dropped her eyes to the flowers and shrugged.
"It's not like I knew to tell him, either. It's just something that happened, but now I know more about me," she gave him an encouraging smile, "and I'm feeling pretty normal today, I think the, ah, sub drop is over, or the worst has passed at least."
"Good, that's good, Ash." He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. "It's been hard knowing you've been struggling. I just wanted to fix it."
"And you did. You and Natasha both," she told him and held up the flowers as proof. "You've made me feel so welcome and cared for. Thank you. I can't tell you how much it's meant to me."
"Anytime, Ash."
The pair turned and entered the kitchen where Natasha was busy making breakfast. Her hair was swept up in a messy bun, tied back by a floral headband that added just the right amount of pretty to the denim romper she wore. Her movements in the kitchen were easy and relaxed, and Ashley found herself wishing for just a piece of that for herself. Until Silas, Natasha had never truly relaxed, but here she was, barefoot and humming in her kitchen on a Saturday morning while she flipped pancakes.
Was this what happened when the Daddy stayed? When something lasting and true was nurtured and built together, rather than a single, stolen night? Ashley's chest squeezed tightly when Silas swept his fiancée up into his arms and kissed her cheek. They were adorable, so complementary, and Ashley's thoughts wandered to what he was doing, what the man who had been her Daddy for a night was up to. He'd started her journey to this new self, and now, here she was alone and thinking of him when she most certainly shouldn't be.
She smiled at Natasha, when the redhead met her eyes, and gave an enthusiastic "yes" when asked if she wanted pancakes. She felt more like herself and was happy for it. She was concentrating on how to best arrange the pretty flowers Silas had gifted her with when Natasha asked, "There's a party tonight. Would you want to go?"
"Um…" Ashley looked down and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She did want to go, but she had only just begun to feel like herself.
"You don't have to if you don't want to," Natasha rushed to say, and a reassuring nod from Silas seconded the sentiment, but something in Ashley rose up in frustration. If she didn't go, she would spend the day pining after a man she'd only spent a handful of hours with, and no matter how much those hours had affected her, Ashley had little taste to sit home on a Saturday night wishing for someone who wasn't there.
"Yes, I'd love to go."
She was feeling normal again, after all. What harm could a party do when she was with friends, and besides, she'd already gone through the worst of it, hadn't she?
There was no way a party could make things worse.
* * *
It took all of two steps and just as many minutes into the party for Ashley to realize that she had vastly underestimated the ambitious nature of the universe, because things could indeed get worse. And that was because, the second she hit the second floor of the Soho building the party was being held in, her eyes landed on him.
Daddy.
And he wasn't alone.
Her body went rigid at the picture in front of her. He was sitting in a leather armchair, legs spread, and taking up the entirety of the big chair he was leaning back in. He didn't see her, of course, where she stood staring at him like a wide-eyed statute by the loft's entrance. Daddy's eyes were elsewhere, on someone else, and she was beautiful. A petite woman sat in his lap, her head tipped back laughing at whatever he had just told her. She was leaning back against his chest, a chest Ashley had dreamed of laying her head on so many times it was burned permanently into her mind as an almost memory. She swallowed hard, seeing how he had an arm around her waist, one hand splayed possessively across the woman's belly while his other hand toyed with her long blonde tresses. Full lips and big blue eyes rounded out the picture of the woman who looked like she'd stepped straight from the covers of a magazine in her perfectly put together outfit that was far more chic than the tank and floral skirt Ashley had donned. She shifted, self-conscious in the flats, her eyes lingering on the spike heels and long tan legs that would be at home on a dancer. They were both blondes, she and the woman in his lap, but other than that, the woman was so unlike Ashley that it felt like a slap in the face, but that didn't make sense, either. Ashley forced herself to take a few quick steps to the side and put a hand against the wall, working to calm herself and steady her breathing.
She had enjoyed a one-night stand with Daddy, no, not Daddy, he was just a man. A man who was now with another woman because he'd already put their night behind them. What they'd done together didn't carry the same weight with him as it had with her. It hadn't ripped him apart like it had her, and she refused to make a scene or big deal about it.
"He's only a man," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. That was it. He wasn't her Daddy or anyone to her. He was just a man who was now looking to spend the night with another woman. An impossibly beautiful woman Ashley desperately tried not to compare herself to, but old habits die hard, and she found herself in the same anxious state that ballet fittings used to put her in.
"Fuck." She shook her head and turned to see Natasha standing beside her with a worried look on her face. "I have to go. I shouldn't have come."
Natasha's eyebrow shot up in surprise. "What's wrong?"
Ashley gave her a weak smile. "I, ah, it's nothing. I just need to go. Sorry." She moved to step away, but Natasha caught her arm.
"Don't be sorry. I'm sorry if I pushed you too soon," she said with a frown.
"No, it wasn't too soon. I just," Ashley shook her head, "things changed."
"Like what?"
Ashley bit her lip, eyes moving toward the leather chair and its couple. "I'll tell you later, okay?"
Natasha rocked back on her heels. She hadn't missed the longing look as Ashley's gaze had just gone across the room, but she knew better than to push her friend.
"All right." She hugged Ashley to her tightly and said, "I'll check in when we leave, okay?"
Ashley hugged her back. "All right. Love you."
"Love you, too," Natasha called after her. She leaned against the wall, tracking Ashley's movements, and felt her chest tighten when she saw her friend pause in the doorway to look back over her shoulder. There was no mistaking the hurt on her friend's face. Natasha looked toward the cause of that expression and she felt her heart stop, because Ashley was staring at a man she knew. A man she had come to know very well, because he was her fiancée's best friend and a man she knew for a fact was a Daddy.
"James," she seethed. Natasha was still glaring at James and the woman he was with when Silas sauntered up, sipping from a beer. He stopped short and gave her an assessing look. Her eyes were narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line, and her hands curled into fists at her side.
"What happened?" he asked, taking a cautious step closer. He knew to tread lightly when Natasha had this look to her. Whoever or whatever had put it there was in for a world of hurt, and he silently prayed it wasn't him.
"James," Natasha replied, her mouth twisting into a frown. "I'm going to kick him in the balls."
"Sorry?" Silas asked, though he was relieved to not be on the receiving end of his little's anger. She was sweet as anything, but when her anger ignited, it did so with the force of an atomic bomb.
She turned to look up at him and
jerked her chin in James' direction. "He's the Daddy."
"What do you mean th—" Silas began, but at the angry look in Natasha's eyes and the fact that he'd just seen Ashley bolt from the party, he understood what she'd meant by 'the Daddy'. "Oh, shit."
"Oh shit is right," Natasha muttered, and before he could stop her, she was off and storming across the room.
"Tash," he called after her, but she was gone, weaving her way through the crush of bodies and standing in front of James by the time he caught up to her.
She crossed her arms and glared at James and his blonde company. "We need to talk," she said, her voice coming out at a harsh clip.
James looked away from the woman he had just been speaking to and gave Natasha a sidelong look. "We do?" He didn't miss the way Natasha's body was held tight, how she had practically been glaring holes in him from across the room, or how Silas was hanging back watching them with a look of concern.
Interesting.
Natasha crossed her arms. "Yes, we do. And now."
"Um, excuse me." The blonde turned to look back at Natasha with a barely disguised look of disdain. "This is a private conversation so—"
"We are not going to be having any of that," James said, cutting in with a sigh as he gave the woman—Miranda, she'd said her name was in their brief introduction earlier that night—a pat on the side. "I've got to run. Another time."
Blue eyes turned his way, and Miranda's mouth fell open in shock. "Are you serious?" she gasped.
James nudged her to the side. "Sorry, sweetheart. Got family business to attend to." He gave her an apologetic smile rather than laying out the reasons that speaking to Natasha like she'd done had effectively killed any plans for romance and lust between the two of them. He didn't abide by disrespect, especially not to those he considered family, and Natasha was one such person. If she said they needed to talk with a pissed off look on her face and Silas at her back, he was going to have to trust that there was indeed a reason to talk.
"But—" Miranda began, but James had already slipped from the chair and was walking with Natasha.
"What is it?" he asked when they were standing a few feet away from the main party. He leaned back against the wall in a mirror pose of what Silas was doing while Natasha continued to glare at him.
"I'll tell you what," she gritted out between clenched teeth, and James knew he was in for it. There was no reasoning with Natasha until she worked herself out, so he settled in against the wall content to let her have her say, but her next words had him snapping to attention with a jerk.
"You make a habit of leaving little girls in sub drop?"
"What?" He blinked. "What are you talking about? I don't do that."
Natasha snorted. "Like hell, you don't."
"Give me names and times. What are you going on about?"
"You want names and times? Fine. Last Saturday. Ashley."
James searched his memory and hated that he came up short. "Who's that?"
Her mouth fell open. "What do you mean, who's that?" Natasha's eyes bulged, and James was surprised she didn't start swinging at him, so dark was the look on her face. "You didn't even get her name, did you?"
"Whose name?"
"Our engagement party," Silas said, finally speaking up and standing next to Natasha. "You met a girl there, spent some time with her, too."
"Oh, her." James nodded and looked away from the couple. Instantly, memories of the wide-eyed woman with long blonde hair and curves he had encountered and nearly fallen for in the span of a few hours flitted before him. She'd been sweet and giving as anything. Her body had been lush and ripe like a goddamned peach, and she'd been game for roleplay. He'd thoroughly enjoyed himself, they both had, so why did Natasha seem like she wanted to rip his heart out and feed it to him?
"Yes, oh her," Natasha said with a jerk of her head. "You left her in sub drop and she's been—"
"Wait, what?" James felt his heart stop. When he'd met the woman, there had been something endearing and soft about her, a gentleness that had drawn him close and made him want to protect, to nurture, but most of all consume. He had wanted her and so he'd had her, but he hadn't thought she was a true sub. She hadn't told him, and past him making her choose a safeword, outlining how far they were both willing to go in their night together, and working to check in with her regularly, she'd given no indication of sub space.
"How do you know about her?" he asked.
"She's my best friend. How do you think I know about her bedroom activities?" Natasha replied with a frown and then shook her head. "She hasn't been okay, James."
"Fuck," he rasped out, hands going to his hair. "How long?"
"Just came out of it today," Silas answered, glancing toward the door with a wince.
"Or she had, until she saw you," Natasha added with a reproachful look.
James twisted his neck and scanned the room. "She's here?"
"Was," Silas corrected. "She was here."
"Where did she go?"
Natasha jerked a thumb toward the door. "She saw you and booked it. That's how I knew you were the Daddy she told me about."
James shook his head, feeling like he was in a daze. "She didn't tell me she was a little." There had been so many women who were simply in it for the taboo, for a walk on the wild side, and they humored him and his urge for control, for being called Daddy without truly taking it to heart. How had he missed a true little? He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. This was proof that he wasn't living right, that he had strayed so far from who he was lately. "Fucking hell. Where is she?" he asked. There was no excuse for what had happened, for her to have to put herself back together without him there, and he vowed to make it up to her at all costs. He would show her that he could be better and that she deserved far better than he had done by her.
When Natasha didn't look like she was going to answer, Silas spoke, "Our place."
James nodded, already moving toward the door. "Thanks, man."
"Where are you going?" Natasha asked, brow furrowed.
"Your place," James called over his shoulder, already weaving through the crowd. He had to get to her and now, the need to fix and protect rising so fiercely in him that he felt like sprinting but forced himself to keep walking. He'd left a little in a lurch, taken her so high, and failed to recognize what she probably hadn't known about herself. He had to fix this and fast. He just prayed it wasn't too late for him to make amends.
Chapter 3
Ashley stared down at her feet. The ride back to the penthouse had been a blur, and now she was sitting quietly in the living room, eyes on her feet, in the quiet apartment as she tried to process what had happened at the party. She hadn't meant to run off like she did, hadn't meant for the sight of her Daddy—one night mystery man—to send her into such a spiral, but it had. There was no helping how vulnerable it had made her feel to see him interested in another woman, one who was everything she wasn't. Petite, lithe, fair-skinned, all of it was too much to bear and had made her feel like the awkward and unloved pre-teen she had never quite grown out of. It was hard to admit, but it was true, and Ashley blew out a heavy sigh. The peace and sense of balance that had started to coalesce was gone again and she dropped back against the couch with a groan.
When was this going to end?
"Bullshit," she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut. Who ran into the one person they didn't want to see on the night they managed to leave their bed? And in New York, of all places? There were millions of people in the city, 8.6 million to be exact, and somehow, she had managed to run into the one person who had the power to send her running scared.
Ashley rubbed her eyes and shook her head. There was no fix for it. She would just have to shake it off, and that was just what she intended to do, perhaps with the help of ice cream or the nearest pizza delivery joint. The door to the penthouse beeped then and made her scramble to sit up and look presentable. She hadn't been crying, but she didn't look great, and the last thing she wanted to do was put a
damper on her friends' evening out. Sucking in a breath and willing a sunny smile onto her face, she sat up straighter and turned to face the foyer where she heard Natasha and Silas entering the room.
"Hi! Do you want pizza? I was thinking of…" Ashley's voice trailed off at the sight of them, no, him. They were here, but they'd brought Daddy with them. "…ordering out," she lamely finished when she didn't know what else to say.
"Hello, Ashley," Daddy said, moving into the room. His gaze was on her face, and she felt herself shrink down until she was surprised her feet were still touching the floor.
"Daddy." The title came out before she could stop it and she winced, looking away from him. "I mean, I…just sorry. Sorry," she rushed to say when she saw his eyes widen. "I didn't mean to say it."
"Don't apologize." He stepped forward, and before she could move from her seat, he was down in front of her. "You have nothing to be sorry for."
"But I…" She paused, licking her lips, eyes darting up to meet his before they slid away again. "I called you Daddy."
"I don't deserve it."
She nodded in agreement. "You don't."
"Good girl," Natasha said approvingly from where she stood by the door.
Ashley gave her a shaky smile before she looked back at the man in front of her. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to fix...I thought you deserved an apology," he said, hands moving to touch her but stopping a few inches away from her. When she didn't move toward him, he dropped his hands back by his side. "You deserve far better than I gave, and I'm sorry, little one."
"How did you find me?"
"That was me." Natasha raised a hand and gave her friend an apologetic look. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay. It's just surprising." She looked back at the man in front of her and then scooted away.
He rocked back on his heels at her movement. "My name is James."
"Ashley," she offered, still not meeting his eyes.
"It's nice to meet you, Ashley."
Ashley: Little Girl - Book Two Page 3
