Filthy Daddy (Her Billionaire's Baby Book 3)

by Ellie Wild

  She turned away from me, her eyes scanning the schoolyard. For a split second, I was afraid that the man has already gotten away, that we won’t catch him in time. But then a look of resolution washes over her face and she raises a finger, pointing deliberately towards the school gates.

  “Him,” she said.

  3

  CALEB

  “This is all a huge misunderstanding,” I said, dropping into one of the rigid wooden chairs in the cramped little office.

  “You’ve said that,” the teacher said, blinking sternly at me from across the desk. “At least a dozen times. But you still haven’t explained exactly what the misunderstanding is.”

  I sighed heavily, letting my shoulders slump down onto the stiff chair back. I was beyond exhausted. The last few hours had left me completely and utterly drained. Fire-fighting my sister’s battles had always left my own life in shambles.

  My younger sister, Calista, and I were never very close. We were born a few years apart, which meant I felt a natural sense of separation immediately when she was born. The void between us grew even larger when our parents sent us to different schools. Calista got to stay at home in Manhattan, meanwhile I was whisked away to an all-boys boarding school in Connecticut. I hated that school, and I grew up feeling both suffocated and betrayed.

  At the time, I couldn’t understand why my parents treated us so differently; why Calista was coddled, and I was so often left to fend for myself. Watching my parents dote on Calista made the distance between us grow even greater, and disinterest eventually evolved into resentment.

  After our parents died, Calista went off the deep end and we lost contact. She made it very clear that she wanted nothing to do with me, or the Preston family business.

  Without our parents around, I dutifully accepted the burden of worrying about Calista. It wasn’t hard, keeping tabs on my sister, even though she wouldn’t speak to me directly, all I needed to do was flick on the TV or scroll through the news headlines to see that she was still alive.

  I would always keep an eye out for her, and I would always force myself to be there when she needed me. I bailed her out of jail when she was arrested for a DUI. I paid for multiple rehab stints at Betty Ford. I kept the rent and utilities paid on her Upper East Side apartment.

  I thought things had finally changed for the better when she announced that she was getting clean to have a baby. I actually breathed a sigh of relief, assuming that motherhood would give my sister the motivation she needed to get her shit together. Turns out, I was wrong.

  “So,” the teacher sitting across from me snapped, pulling me out of my thoughts and back into reality, “What’s this big misunderstanding, huh?”

  I sighed, shifting in my seat. As the head of a billion-dollar hotel empire, I was not used to being spoken to this way, and I was definitely not used to being looked at like I’m a criminal. But then, sitting in the cramped office, I might as well have been twelve years old again, sitting in the headmaster’s office at boarding school as he explained that I’ll be spending the fourth consecutive Christmas holiday at school, because my parents thought it would be “for the best” that I not join them on their annual family ski trip to the Alps.

  I straightened my posture, and pushed the memory out of my head and forcing my mind to go blank.

  “I’m Emmy Preston’s uncle,” I said. “Her mother, Calista, is my sister.”

  “Emmy didn’t recognize you,” the teacher pointed out, her face firm and unrelenting.

  I forced my mind to stay clear making it all too easy to notice how stunning the teacher is. I was too frazzled to really look at her in the schoolyard, too panicked by the accusations and worried looks coming from teachers and nannies and other parents. In a matter of seconds, with one point of Emmy’s finger, I had been deemed a villain.

  A bad guy.

  To diffuse the situation, the teacher had quickly snatched me by the sleeve and escorted me into the school. I couldn’t decide whether she was giving me a chance to explain myself, or if she was just trying to prevent a panic.

  Now that I’ve had a moment to catch my breath, I finally get a good look at her.

  “You have five seconds,” she said, snapping me out of my thoughts for the second time. “Five seconds before I call NYPD. I’ve got a special case squad detective on speed dial, and I’m warning you now, he’s not going to be half as patient with you as I have been.”

  “Emmy’s mother and I aren’t on good terms,” I said. “I guess you could say that we’re estranged.”

  “Then why would your sister ask you to pick Emmy up from school today?” the teacher asked defensively, narrowing her eyes.

  “She didn’t,” I said flatly. “I haven’t spoken to Calista in years.”

  I glanced down at her desk, and something about it reminded me of my own: it’s sterile, neat, completely devoid of life. No family photos in goofy mismatched frames, no Post-It note reminders, no flowers, no color. Just a computer and a nameplate that reads ‘Daisy Wright.’

  “Family kidnapping is a crime that NYPD takes very serious--”

  “Daisy, is it?” I asked, flicking my eyes up from the nameplate and meeting her glare.

  “Miss Wright,” she corrected me, and I watched her frown tighten. She was clearly losing patience with me.

  “Miss Wright, I received a phone call today from Child Protective Services informing me that I have been awarded emergency custody of my niece”.

  “What?” Daisy’s face softened, and for the first time I saw a glimmer of belief flash through her eyes. “What happened? Is Calista alright?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just know that she’s in a hospital in California.”

  “But if she’s in California… who’s been at home with Emmy?” Daisy’s face softened a little more, this time filling with a protective sort of panic.

  “The nanny,” I said, recounting the phone conversation I had earlier in my office. I had asked the same questions that Daisy was asking now. I had demanded the same answers. And honestly, none of it had made any sense to me either. “But Calista must have been gone longer than expected, because the nanny called 911 in a panic this morning, right before fleeing the apartment.”

  “Wow,” Daisy shook her head, and she looked like she might cry. “The nanny just left?”

  I just shrugged. I had long given up on trying to rationalize the things that go on in Calista’s life. I can’t explain why Calista wound up in a California hospital. And I can’t explain why she would leave my niece alone in New York, for an indefinite period of time, with a nanny that she couldn’t even trust to stay with her daughter.

  “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do,” I admitted. “Hell, I’ve never even been around kids before… I have no idea how I’m going to look after one. But CPS made one thing very clear. If I don’t take care of my niece, she’ll go straight into foster care.”

  Daisy’s face bunched up into a frown, and then she suddenly reached for the phone.

  “Wait, what are you doing?”

  “Calling CPS,” she said, punching a number into the phone as she propped the receiver between her ear and shoulder. “Technically they should have contacted the school directly if there has been a change in custody, but sometimes in emergencies--”

  She stopped speaking suddenly, which I took as an indication that somebody on the other end of the phone has answered. I strained my ears, trying to hear the sound from the other end of the phone, but I couldn’t.

  And then, without saying a word, Daisy slammed the phone down.

  “Voicemail,” she explained. “I’ll try again in a few minutes.”

  I glanced at the watch on my wrist, wondering how much time has already ticked by, and wondering what my niece was doing. The entire school must be dismissed by now. I imagined Emmy sitting on the school steps alone, the only student left, waiting for someone to come and claim her and instantly I felt a wave of emptiness as I was reminded of the count
less times I found myself in that same position as a child. The countless times my parents failed to turn up at my boarding school for weekend visits or holidays.

  “We can’t sit here all night,” I said. “Please… Emmy probably has enough going through her head, without having to sit up there and wonder why everyone in her life has abandoned her.”

  Daisy glanced up at me, caught off guard. Her eyes scanned my face, and tried to find meaning in what I’ve just said.

  “Well I can’t send Emmy home with a stranger, either,” Daisy countered, though her voice was uncertain. “I don’t even know your name.”

  “Caleb,” I said. “Caleb Preston.”

  “Mr. Preston,” she said firmly, but her voice wasn’t as rigid as it was before it softened, filling with compassion. “The school has policies and procedures in place for things like this… strict policies and procedures that are in place for the safety our students…”

  “What about their wellbeing?” I argued. “Right now, my niece is alone and afraid what about that? I know I’m not the best choice but I’m doing the best that I can. Right now, my niece has nobody… nobody but me. I’m not going to give up on her now. I can’t.”

  Daisy studied my thoughtfully, her eyes moving up and down, but I couldn’t read the expression on her face. I couldn’t tell what she’s thinking.

  Finally, she spoke up.

  “That’s not true, you know,” she said, her voice was softer than it has been. “Emmy has me, too.”

  4

  DAISY

  “Wait,” I said, blinking up at the giant skyscraper, taking in the mix of chrome beams and glass panels that comprise the high-rise. “This is where you live?” I asked, glancing over at Caleb.

  The Camden towered above us, glowing a mysterious shade of blue against the twilight sky, and for some reason just standing on the cement sidewalk in front of the building made my heart race.

  I promised Caleb Preston that we would figure this situation out. That we would find a way to make things work, for Emmy’s sake.

  When I made that promise, I had no idea that I would wind up standing in front of The Camden. Unfortunately, after several unreturned calls to CPS, that’s exactly where I ended up. Caleb reasoned that we shouldn’t keep Emmy waiting at the school all night. I firmly reminded him that I couldn’t let her go until CPS had verified his story.

  He had seemed almost too eager to propose a compromise. That I go home with them, as a ‘chaperone’ of sorts. I knew it was bending the rules, but I also knew that it made sense. Every minute we spent at the school, I could see the confusion and concern growing on Emmy’s face.

  “Have you been here before?” Caleb asked over his shoulder, eyeing me curiously.

  “No,” I admit. “I’ve just… heard stories.”

  Ok, maybe not ‘stories.’ But I have heard from Raven that the building was basically full of billionaire bachelors, and things have been known to get a little wild behind closed doors.

  “Well you shouldn’t judge anything until you’ve tried it for yourself,” Caleb said, and he gave me a quick wink before turning back towards the building.

  My stomach did a somersault, and I forced myself to take a deep, measured breath.

  While we were in my office, it was easy enough to ignore how good-looking Caleb Preston was. I was more concerned with the matter at hand. That he was possibly some sort of crazed kidnapper trying to nab my favorite student.

  Hearing the compassion and conviction in his voice softened my resolve and now, as we made the walk together back to his apartment with Emmy in tow, it had gotten harder and harder to deny how attractive he was.

  No, he was more than attractive, he was gorgeous.

  Caleb towered at least a foot over me, and even in a suit I could see the definition of his muscles. He had olive skin, just dark enough to look exotic, and perfect glistening brown hair. His eyes were the prettiest shade of hazel, and altogether, he looked like someone that belonged in a catalogue spread or on the cover of a romance novel.

  Under normal circumstances, Caleb was the kind of guy I would avoid at all costs. I certainly wouldn’t dream of accepting an invitation back to his apartment. The Camden, of all places!

  “I think it’s pretty!” Emmy chimed from at my side, her hand squeezing mine. I was relieved to see that she was back to her usual spunky self. I know how scary this must have felt for her.

  “Good evening, Mr. Preston,” the doorman sprung to life, bowing gracefully with a warm smile on his face, then stepped aside and opened one of the giant glass doors. The glass was clear, but the way it caught the tinted light from the building, it appeared solid blue.

  “George, how’s it going?” I noticed Caleb’s tone was also warm. “You ever gonna just call me Caleb?”

  George smiled and ducked his head, and I couldn’t but help but think that he had that kind, grandfatherly vibe about him.

  Caleb ushered us in, and before I had a chance to stop and take in the sights and sounds of the building’s lobby, we were being shuffled into an elevator.

  The heavy doors slid shut and Preston reached forward to swipe a key fob on a scanner. The fob chirps when it registered, and he was about to select his floor, but then he hesitated and turned to Emmy, smiling.

  “Do you want to press the button?” he asked.

  She glanced up at me for permission, and I gave her an encouraging nod. That’s all it took for her to leap forward, planting herself right at Caleb’s side. He crouched down to her level and points to the button marked ‘50.’

  “This one,” he whispered.

  Emmy stuck out a finger and poked the button. The elevator immediately churned to life, and she twirled around to beam up proudly at me. I returned her smile.

  Maybe this won’t be so bad.

  The elevator pulled us up the fifty floors quickly, and before I knew it, there was a little chime and the doors parted, opening to reveal the most incredible apartment I’ve ever seen.

  The floors were rich planks of smooth ebony bamboo. The walls were glass, and the ceiling was dotted with tiny recessed spotlights that glitter like dim stars. There was a modern living room set, sleek leather couches, a furry white rug, a glass round coffee table, situated in the center of the room, and then there was a slight step up to the kitchen, which was easily the size of my entire two-bedroom apartment back in Brooklyn, and then some.

  Emmy didn’t wait for permission that time. Dhe bounded out the elevator, her Ugg boots slapping the hardwood floors as she ran straight to the floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the city. The building’s blue glow was radiating through the glass, spilling into the apartment and giving everything a cool hue. Emmy pressed her nose against the glass, peering down at Central Park below.

  I felt the firmness of Caleb’s chest brush against my back, and I was suddenly engulfed in the darkly intoxicating, woodsy aroma of his cologne. The kind of scent I could get drunk on. I thought bumping into me was a mistake, but when he didn’t move away, I realized it was intentional; that he deliberately let me feel his taut muscles through the thin cotton of my shirt. He let me feel the electricity of his heartbeat. And if I could feel his pulse, that meant he could feel the frantic hammering of mine; he could feel how my body was responding to his as I melted, involuntarily, against the warmth of his chest.

  The heat of his breath tickled the skin on my neck as he leaned even closer, sending a prickle of excitement through my body. My nipples hardened under my shirt, and I could tell he noticed because I could hear him exhale into a soft smirk.

  “See?” he whispered, his lips floated dangerously close to my skin, “I told you that you shouldn’t knock something until you’ve tried it.”

  I was just trying to decipher what he meant by that, when Emmy suddenly twirled around to face us. Caleb responded instantly, and moved away from me and strode towards Emmy.

  “Should we get some dinner, kiddo?” he asked, as he ushered us towards the kitchen.


  I took a deep breath, and tried to regain my composure before I followed them into the kitchen. In an attempt to get my mind off of what just transpired, I opened the doors to the stainless-steel refrigerator and cast a scrutinizing glare at the completely bare shelves inside.

  “I don’t cook much,” Caleb admitted meekly. “Maybe we should just order something to be delivered?”

  “YES!” Emmy bellowed suddenly, and we both turn to see her standing in front of an open cupboard, triumphantly wielding a packet of Ramen noodles. “My favorite!” she beamed up at us eagerly.

  She wasn’t lying. Emmy’s packed lunch at school usually consisted of a packet of Ramen or, as she lovingly referred to them, “three-minute noodles,” because that’s how long they took to cook up in the teacher lounge microwave. I couldn’t help but feel shocked when I saw the noodles. Caleb Preston must be worth billions, but the only food in his five-star kitchen was Ramen noodles?

  “Are those your favorite?” Caleb asked, smiling down at her. “They’re mine, too!” Then he turned to me, “What do you say, Miss Wright?”

  “I think you’re full of surprises,” I smiled. Then, seeing the lit up joy on Emmy’s face, I added, “I’m in!”

  “Good,” Caleb reached into the cupboard and pulled out two more packets of Ramen.

  “Noodles for three, coming right up!”

  5

  CALEB

  “What do you think, Emmy?” I asked, watching as the little girl slurped up the last bit of noodle broth from her bowl. “Who makes better Ramen, me, or Miss Wright?”

  Emmy dropped her bowl down onto the glass coffee table, and her eyes wandered between me and Daisy.

  “You,” she decided finally, smacking her lips and pointing at me.

  “Emmy!” Daisy exclaimed, clutching her heart dramatically. “I thought you loved my Ramen noodles!”

  “They’re ok,” Emmy shrugged, “But Uncle Caleb’s are better.”