Daddy's Demands: Twenty-Five Steamy Daddy Dom Romance Novellas

by Madison Faye

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  Rainy Day Daddy by Isabella Laase

  Chapter One

  Exhausted after an overzealous evening visiting some of the best clubs in London, Nora Stockholm’s head pounded from the alcohol-induced attack on her senses. Her revealing black cocktail dress curved around her body as a chilly reminder from her long night, and her matching leather heels were kicked carelessly under the table of her father’s sleek jet. She ran her hands through her long brown hair and squeezed her eyes tightly shut in a desperate attempt to ignite a second wind.

  But it was her stepmother’s constant, bubbly, and horribly annoying chatter that grated on her nerves. “It’s a wonderful surprise, and I can hardly wait. I’ve wanted to visit Prince Edward Island since I read Anne of Green Gables as a little girl, but Richard’s taking me to Newfoundland first. He’s going to get me a real Newfoundland puppy from Newfoundland. I’m so glad you could be here, Nora.”

  Her stepmother’s tiny giggle combined with her simple, straight black plait and rounded brown eyes to remind Nora of a happy two-year-old, and it took a second for the message to sink past the dull roar of the engine. “Wait…” she mumbled. “I thought we were going right back to New York? I didn’t sign on for a fucking side trip to a frozen rock.”

  Crystal Stockholm looked as though she’d been struck, the same deer in the headlight reaction she had every time Nora ever had the misfortune to spend any time with her. It really wasn’t Nora’s fault. She had absolutely nothing in common with the former waitress who’d snagged her father after his third divorce, except of course, her age. Like all of Richard Stockholm’s wives, they’d gotten younger and younger until he’d come home with this one, a few short months shy of Nora’s twenty-seven years.

  Tall, athletic Richard Stockholm walked up to the table with his second McAllen scotch and ice of the trip already half emptied. Taking another sip from the fine glass tumbler, he put his hand gently on Crystal’s shoulder, and she touched it, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. The churning guilt for upsetting the slightly ditzy gold-digger was quickly defeated, and Nora scowled at the quiet family scene that clearly didn’t include her.

  “You didn’t really sign on for this trip at all,” said Richard firmly, rubbing his hand gently along Crystal’s cheek. “We had no idea you wanted a ride back to the states until you showed up at our hotel in London. No offense, Nora, but you’re the passenger here. We’re landing at the airport in St. John’s. If you don’t want to join us, I’m sure you can get your own flight from there, but I wish you would stay.”

  Even first class on a commercial airliner wouldn’t come close to the pampered comfort of a two-year-old Jetstream. She might have been a second-class family member, but she sure as hell appreciated a nice ride. Without a lot of options, she snapped at the young male flight attendant standing stupidly in the corner. “Fine. Get me another gin and tonic… and a sandwich too. I’m starving.”

  Crystal openly cringed. “She means please, Troy. If it isn’t too much trouble.” Having grown up in a trailer park somewhere in the middle of West Virginia, her stepmother had no idea how to handle servants.

  Nora opened her mouth to bitch at both of them, but a disappointed glance from her father quickly led to her sullen retreat. Soft rock played on the sound system while Troy delivered food to everyone with a large glass of milk for Crystal. An entire bar filled with quality wines and spirits, and the half-child politely asked, “Can I have a little chocolate syrup, please?” Troy brought the treat with the same indulgent smile everybody seemed to have when her stepmother was around.

  Nora stared out the window at miles of gray, open ocean before Crystal spoke quietly, her gaze nervously fixed on the leather upholstery of her chair. “I know this side trip probably sounds silly to you, Nora, but I’ve been working since I was twelve years old. I… your father’s been really good to me, and I’ve always wanted a dog.”

  “A dog,” said her father with a rare laugh that was becoming more and more common. “I could get her the prettiest jewels in Tiffany’s, but she wants a puppy. I’m telling you, it’s nice to find a woman who doesn’t judge her world by expensive things. She had me up at four-thirty this morning to watch the sun rise over the Thames. It was stunning.”

  Nora rolled her eyes and took another long sip of the tangy gin and tonic, the bubbly tickles sliding down the back of her throat to ignite a slight burning. Her father’s happy little life was no more relevant to her than her mother’s recent divorce from the ski instructor in the Italian Alps. Settled into a series of boarding schools just after her eleventh birthday, Nora had long since developed a survivor’s sense of independence.

  Crystal and her father exchanged another private glance, and the almost imperceptible nod of his head sent an unexpected shudder down her spine. “I’m glad you came with us, Nora,” said Crystal softly. “I know it’s months away, but I was hoping to talk to you about Christmas. Your father and I are going to stay in the city this year, but we really want you to be with us as a family. I’m hoping to do it all up really nice… a big tree… lots of presents. My mom and dad are coming, and they’d love to get to know you better.”

  Fucking great. An entire Appalachian hillbilly festival right in the middle of her father’s Fifth Avenue townhouse. Her mother would laugh her ass off when she told her. With a growing frown, Nora finished her drink, twirling the ice to click sharply against the glass while she evaluated her refusal options.

  “And… and… there’s more…” Crystal actually beamed, her eyes bright with excitement. “I… I’m pregnant. I’m due in November. We’re both really happy, and we just found out it’s a boy—”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?” The sharp reaction was so very necessary to protect her tentative emotions. She glared at her father. “You’re having another kid?”

  “I’m pushing sixty,” he said proudly, “but I couldn’t be happier. I know I wasn’t around much when you were younger, and I’ll always regret that loss. Your mother… well… anyway, I’m going to do it right this time. I’m hoping to retire within the next two years so I don’t miss a moment of this little guy’s life. We want to make a real family, and we want you to be part of it, all four of us. But obviously, this changes my will, and I wanted you to hear about it directly from me.”

  “I’m not going to talk about your will, Dad.” She fought the urge to put her hands over her ears like the day she’d turned seven and her mother had sat her down on a Grand Cayman beach chair to tell her about the divorce. “This is crazy. Besides, Mom says that my trust fund is separate from your estate, so this doesn’t affect me at all.”

  “Your mother always did like to twist reality to meet her needs. That agreement was part of our divorce and designed to take care of your education and expenses until you finished school. I’ve been keeping up with the fund for the last few years, but you aren’t a child anymore. When this balance is gone, there won’t be any more of my money going into it. You’ve still got your grandparents’ inheritance, your condo is paid for, you have a six-figure-a-year salary with the firm… and you’ll get a third of my estate, including the majority stockholding in the company.”

  “A third?” Her voice rose with every new piece of life-changing information. “Are you having twins?”

  Crystal blushed, a few tears staining her sunburned, freckled cheeks. “I told you, it’s too much, Richard. You need to change that back…”

  “Stop, Crystal,” he demanded with a frown burrowed across his brow. “I’m not going to change my mind. I want you, the baby, and Nora to share the estate equally. I don’t care about the pre-nup. I need to know that you’ll be taken care of if something happens to me.”

  Without being asked, skinny Troy brought her a second gin and tonic and cleared his throat delicately. “Excuse me, the captain would like to inform you that we’re landing in St.
John’s in a few minutes. If you could prepare for landing, we should be on the ground shortly.”

  Richard kissed the back of Crystal’s hand, tenderly wiping her tears with his thumb, but Nora stormed to the furthest seat possible, her own stupid tears threatening to betray her. It was all making sense now. The new house in Southampton with a big back yard and a fancy pool. The renovation to the townhouse last month to remake the study into an extra bedroom. Her increased office responsibilities that she lacked the experience and the confidence to fully accept. It was all too fast… too drastic to internalize.

  It wasn’t the money. Her father was right. She had plenty of resources, and she was a hard worker at the company where she’d been groomed for leadership since her first internship as a freshman at Yale. It was the introduction of another betrayal that haunted her, the planning and preparations, conversations about nurseries and baby boy names that had obviously been taking place behind closed doors.

  Curled into a small ball with a blanket around her shoulders, she couldn’t stop the familiar pouting. She’d spent her entire life living on the outside of the world, never quite understanding where she fit in. Crystal and her father were a whole new family, and their pity inclusion for the holidays obviously spawned from their misguided sense of responsibility. She didn’t belong with them any more than she’d fit in with her roommate’s family who used to invite her for school vacations when her parents’ plans were too uncertain. No matter what she did, or how hard she worked, there would never be a place for her.

  Not giving a fuck was the only defense she understood. Screw the comfortable jet, and screw all of them. She sure as hell would find her own way back to New York, as soon as this fucking plane landed on a frozen rock in the middle of the North Atlantic.

  * * *

  The damn ticket agent was a moron. Having abandoned her heavy bags in her father’s plane, Nora shifted the weight of her expensive carryon over her shoulder. “What do you mean there are no flights to New York? What about DC or Philly?” The second choices weren’t ideal, but a few hours in a private limo would get her to her destination.

  “I’m sorry, but there was a major weather event on the east coast,” responded the sturdy, middle-aged woman with a thick accent and a big, stupid smile. “What few flights still running are full. I’ve got you booked standby to New York tomorrow afternoon, but it’s the best I can do.”

  She resisted the urge to grit her teeth. “There has to be a way to get from here to New York before I turn fifty. Check another fucking airline.”

  The affable smile disappeared. “I can check all the airlines in the world, Miss Stockholm, but I suggest that you get yourself a nice hotel room down on the waterfront and visit some of our George Street pubs. They’ll be at least a few bands going tonight. Or you can travel up to Signal Hill and see the museum where the first wireless, trans-Atlantic telegraph was received, or take a tour out to Cape Spear, the easternmost point of North America. Go, have some fun.”

  And they likely had the biggest ball of twine and the dog with the biggest dick, but there was no way in hell she was going anywhere near her father and Crystal’s waterfront hotel. The goodbye had been hard enough. Surrounded by her father’s tense displeasure and Crystal’s sad, pathetic tears, she’d struggled to fight the familiar nausea that threatened her gin and tuna sandwich dinner before storming to the main terminal alone.

  “That’s not acceptable.” Nora’s voice rose even higher, not caring who heard. “Find another solution because I’m not spending a single night in this damned town—”

  A voice cleared ominously behind her, and she turned to see another stocky islander with a shock of blond wavy hair and crystal blue eyes. Tall and muscular, the man blocked the view of the airstrip behind him to demand her full attention. His close proximity mixed with his stern annoyance, subtly electrifying the hairs on the back of her neck.

  “Is there a problem, Grace?” he asked in a brogue almost as thick as the ticket agent.

  “I don’t see how any of this is your business,” Nora snapped in a desperate attempt to defeat the tingling that circled across her skin. Her nipples tightened under the pressure before the awareness settled between her legs with a dangerous tickle. “If you’ll allow me to have my conversation, you can have your turn in just a minute.”

  His brow arched slightly, thick, muscular arms crossed in closure, and he stared at her without a hint of a smile. The snug wool sweater was a pretty shade of soft gray, inviting her exploration of the chiseled muscles along his biceps, but his authoritative voice was an icy contrast to his tempting presence. “I’m not waiting in line, miss, just passing through the airport. But Grace is a cousin, and I’ll see to it that she’s treated with some respect.” He hooked his thumb through his belt loop, drawing attention to the soft leather nestled around his worn jeans. “Do you think you can continue this conversation and mind your mouth?”

  This time, the unwelcome sensation darted from her breasts in a direct line to her bottom, her clit swelling from a single pressure point that ignited her muscles in a small furor. “Fine,” she drawled slowly, taking a step away from him and his inexplicable impact between her legs. “I… I apologize. I’m just frustrated.”

  Furiously scribbling on a notepad, Grace smiled. “Thank you, Miss Stockholm. And thank you, Caden. Here are some hotels within walking distance of the waterfront. St. John’s is a beautiful place; you’ll enjoy the night, I promise. And here are my keys, Caden. The car’s parked where it always is. Give Uncle Mattie a kiss for me.”

  “Good, then.” He nodded his approval. “No yapping and all is well. Do a little beatin’ the pat tonight, miss, and have some fun. Newfoundland is a wonderful place, and we’re all proud of it here.” While Nora moved to the side, the cousins continued to speak to each other, accents and grins growing stronger until she only understood about half of what they said.

  She recognized defeat. Shaking her head, she formulated a new plan to cope in Dante’s newest version of hell. She’d head back to the private hangar where her father had left his plane and grab the paper with the name of their hotel. Then she’d find the furthest bed away from the two of them that she could locate on this miserable island. If she could get on the flight tomorrow, she’d still get home faster than if she’d spent the next few days hopping around the Canadian Maritimes.

  Her miserable mood escalated when she left the warmth of the terminal as the foggy, damp clouds enveloped her overly exposed skin. The cleavage-revealing cocktail dress was clearly a poor choice in a town where everyone else wore sweaters in June, and she struggled to balance on the stilettos back to the private hangar. The dismal familial revelations of the day meshed with her lack of sleep and overindulgence of alcohol, and she just wanted a warm room and a pile of blankets to pull over her head.

  The flight mechanic acknowledged her with a grin, and a huge black dog came to her side with a lazy smile. His shiny, well-groomed coat swayed in the breeze and a bright purple collar displayed a name and telephone number. When the drool-y jowls came a little too close, however, Nora hissed at the creature, “Back off.” The dog politely obeyed, but when Nora turned toward her father’s plane, she ran head-on into a portly, middle-aged man of Asian descent. Her emotions already in a twist, she turned her anger on him with a snarl. “Watch it, asshole.”

  “Excuse me, miss,” he said politely with a familiar Long Island accent. Without waiting for a response, he shouted across the hangar, “Thanks, William… Just fill it up and charge it to my account. This was just a quick turnaround for me. I’m going to run into the city and get a quick meal. I’ll be back in an hour or two, and still get back to New York before it gets dark.”

  For the millionth time in her life, she cursed her lack of patience, but she didn’t have the acting ability to fake a smile and ask a man she’d just called an asshole for a ride to New York. The pilot left the hangar with polite nod in her direction, while the mechanic moved to fuel the small seapla
ne.

  But that plane was going in her direction, and there was no way in hell she wasn’t going to be on it. Life had taught her that it was a lot easier to ask forgiveness than to seek permission, and her plans formed with all the clarity of a three gin and tonic flight. Somewhere around Maine sounded like a good idea to have the conversation with a total stranger about a lift to New York.

  With a renewed sense of enthusiasm, she busied herself by petting the big dog who’d claimed ownership to some blankets in front of the seaplane until the attendant disappeared into an office. With a quick glance around the now empty hangar, she crawled rather ungraciously up the small ladder to the large, Spartan cabin filled with boxes, blankets, and assorted household supplies. Navigating on her hands and knees as far to the back as possible, she made herself a cozy, pillow-filled nest behind some boxes before covering herself with a heavy blanket, her body warming slowly for the first time in days. With at least an hour to wait until he returned and she had to begin her vigilant stowaway status, she decided to take a little nap.

  Chapter Two

  Caden McDonough was whistling when he returned to the airport from visiting his uncle Matthew in the tiny, colorful house on the Outer Battery Road. Newfoundland sported a long, cold winter for a ninety-seven-year-old man, but his grandmother’s youngest brother was a stubborn soul who’d long since refused to leave the cottage he’d grown up in. Instead, the old codger sat in the beat-up recliner strategically placed in the front window of his house, watching the Grand Banks supply ships and tankers in the harbor and waving happily at every car that drove past on the winding road.

  After the requisite visit, there’d been plenty of time for Caden to meet with a few more cousins for a beer and a fabulous lunch at his Aunt Jo’s take-out fish restaurant. Caden’s family still visited their maritime extended clan as often as they could, but his father had long since settled them off-island in Toronto. Caden appreciated the multicultural city that was very definitely home, but the trips to his grandfather’s old fishing cottage out past Gros Morne were still the highlight of his year.