Single Dad’s Plaything: A Single Dad First Time Billionaire Romance

by Natasha Spencer

  Though exhausted from work and sweaty, Chanda was still radiant. Chris stared at her for a moment before cupping her face in his hands. She pulled away shyly, and indicated all of the people around. Public affection would be improper. But then she stared into his eyes, and they just stood looking into each other’s souls for a long moment. Her eyes were even more mesmerizing in real life: full of light and hope and strength.

  “Come,” she said finally, seizing his hand and leading him away from the café.

  Chapter 5

  Chanda could not believe that Chris was actually here, in her home. She had slaved away for the past few days, adding decorations and cleaning, trying to make it pleasing for him. But now that he was here, standing awkwardly by the door, she worried that the place was not good enough. Everywhere she looked, she saw something drab or threadbare that embarrassed her. Chris was groomed and dressed like some cowboy in a high-budget Western movie. He was just so clean and so…handsome.

  “This is home,” she laughed apologetically. “I hope you comfortable here.”

  “It is very nice,” he smiled.

  “It is my family’s. I lived here when I was a little girl.”

  He nodded slowly. “I can picture you playing dolls and singing. You don’t look that far from being a little girl still.”

  “Oh, stop it,” she dismissed his comment away with her hand.

  “I like your humor. You don’t mind my teasing,” Chris grinned. “It’s a Texas thing.”

  “Texas thing?”

  “It’s something we do in Texas. We tease a lot. All of my family does that.”

  “Oh, I see.” She grinned. Then she sobered. “Even your brother?”

  “Especially Jake.”

  “I would like to meet your family.”

  “I would like that too, but I don’t have much left.” Chris shrugged. “We’re the same in that way.”

  “You don’t have uncles, aunts, cousins?”

  “I have some, but we’re not particularly close. They’re spread out across the United States.”

  “You can visit them. You can become close.” Chanda was lost at the idea that someone might not be close to his family members. To her, family was everything.

  “The US is very large,” Chris shrugged. “We’re all busy. It doesn’t matter. I’m looking to build a family of my own now.”

  Chanda beamed. “Well, I am too. I will cook for you now.” She made a move toward the small kitchen.

  “No.” Chris caught her hand. “Is there a nice place here? Maybe somewhere that you have never been?”

  “Chris! You are very tired. You must rest. I make dinner.”

  “No. I’m jetlagged, but that’s OK. I would like to go out and show you off.”

  Chanda paused, confused. As she realized what he meant, a huge smile began to curve across her face, lighting up her cheeks and eyes with pride. “Yes.”

  “It’s time for me to give you your gift.” Chris pulled out his suitcase and produced a beautiful gown.

  Chanda gasped in happy surprise. “Oh!” she squealed.

  “Put that on. I read about a place on Trip Advisor, Do Forni. Would you like to go there?”

  She gasped again, looking up from the dress, which she was holding up to her slim form in front of the mirror. “That place is very expensive! I have never been.”

  “They have Italian food. I want you to taste it,” Chris suggested.

  An hour later, they were seated at the Do Forni. Chanda looked overwhelmed. On her factory wage, she had never been able to afford such a restaurant. The ceiling arched overhead, and her red velvet chair felt softer than any chair that she had ever sat in. She kept rubbing her hands down her new silk dress, enchanted by its beauty.

  “What is this?” she asked, pointing at the menu. “And this?”

  “I recommend the ravioli,” Chris said. “That’s always my favorite.”

  “Ravioli?”

  He grinned. “You’ll love it.” He ordered a bottle of white wine and Chanda stared as the waiter presented the bottle and uncorked it with a flourish. The waiter poured them two glasses and left the wine bottle in a bucket of ice.

  Unsure of how to behave in such a restaurant, Chanda observed how Chris drank his wine, then sipped hers. She instantly widened her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” Chris looked concerned.

  “It’s not as sweet as I expected,” she giggled.

  “It’s a buttery Chardonnay. I’m not a wine guy, but I thought you might like it.”

  “I do,” she nodded. She had always imagined that wine was sweet, like fruit juice. It's interesting flavor profile enticed her to keep sipping.

  The meal was fantastic. The servings were tiny. Chanda sampled each thing that Chris ordered them. “The ravioli are the best,” she agreed with a definitive nod.

  “I told you,” Chris smiled.

  After a tiramisu dessert, which Chanda found too sweet but complimented heavily, they left. A soft, warm drizzle was falling and the streets had become quieter. The two meandered back to Chanda’s apartment, discussing the temples and monuments that they would see. Tomorrow they planned to meet Chanda’s family.

  At her door, she said softly, “It would be bad if we spent this night together.”

  Chris nodded, a bit surprised. “Do you not want me to stay here?”

  She hesitated. “You are welcome here. But I will make a bed for you. I am not ready to…to sleep together. I don’t want to fall into your arms yet.”

  “Oh. Oh, OK. That’s fine.”

  Chanda made up a small bed and Chris laid down. Shyly, she changed in the bathroom and turned the lights out. “Good night,” she said softly.

  “Good night,” he answered.

  Chanda lay a few feet from him and heard him toss and turn. She was dying to crawl into bed with him and comfort him. Surely, he needed comfort, after losing his family. Poor, lonely man. He looked so good yet he was so lonely. But she was scared. Never before had she felt a man’s touch. The idea of laying her head on his firm, muscular chest made her heart hammer, but she was also shaky with terror.

  Chapter 6

  Chris slept in very late. When he awoke, Chanda was perched on a stool with a cup of tea, watching him. She giggled slightly when he finally opened his eyes.

  “What time is it?” he groaned. He had a pounding headache.

  “Afternoon,” she said nonchalantly. “You were tired. I didn’t want to wake you.”

  Chris realized that this was actually the time he normally woke up for work at home. “Shall we get breakfast?” he suggested.

  “I already ate. But I will go with you,” Chanda replied.

  “Where are we going?”

  “The café down the street has the best noodles. We will go there.”

  Chris nodded. “I can’t disagree. Well, what are we doing today, love?” He was surprised at how lovely she looked, even with no makeup and with her hair hanging down loosely over her shoulders. She radiated a warm, natural beauty that was amplified by her sweet personality. For the first time in years, Chris felt at ease around a woman.

  “I want to show you my city. I want to show you the temples and monuments here and the old ruins.” She smiled as she stood in front of her mirror and began to tie up her hair.

  “Leave it down.” Chris came up behind her and liked the way his reflection seemed to complete hers. Already he was thinking of them as a couple. “May I kiss you now?”

  She turned to face him. She looked nervous, but content. “OK,” she said softly.

  He tilted her face up to his with his hand and planted a firm, sweet kiss on her lips. At first she kept her lips rigid, unsure of what to do. But then she melted into him. She wrapped her warm arms around his body and pressed her mouth into his. Their tongues met and he flicked hers. “You are such a sweet kisser,” he murmured as they broke apart.

  She gazed up at his face, stroking the soft hair at the base of his head. “You too,” she wh
ispered. “You are like in the movies.”

  “I am very difference from the movies. You’ll be surprised when you get to know me. I’m not like all American guys.”

  “I have never met an American guy, so I am already surprised. But I can tell that you are special.”

  They gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment. Then Chanda gently laid her head against his chest. “Are you ready to go eat?” she asked tenderly, still stroking his hair. It was one of the most comforting gestures that he had felt since his mother had tickled his head when he was a little boy, struggling to fall asleep in his bottom bunk underneath Jake’s bed.

  They daringly stepped out into the heat. Chris almost passed out for a moment and Chanda steadied him. He was already dripping in sweat when they arrived at the café. Chanda decided that she was hungry too once she saw Chris’s food. She seemed relieved and surprised at how much money Chris had and how he was able to pay for the meals. “It is always a struggle to have enough to eat,” she admitted. “The factory pays me nothing.”

  They sat on the street to eat and watch the bustling city around them. Chris took in the sights again, still mesmerized by this foreign place that he was in. He felt surprisingly comfortable thanks to Chanda’s presence. It had never occurred to him, even just a year ago, that he would be here, in this moment.

  “You must hate all of the poverty here,” Chanda commented as she watched a beggar in soiled rags make his way up the street.

  “I grew up very poor, actually,” Chris confided in her. “I grew up eating ramen and pancakes for dinner. We had one room, so my brother and I slept on a bunk bed in the living room. In winter, all we had was a woodstove and we’d crowd around to stay warm. My brother and I had to work early in the morning in the freezing cold or the blazing heat because our father couldn’t afford to hire hands. We didn’t get rich until my father struck oil on the ranch. I get paid for the oil wells working on the ranch and also the cattle we sell. But back in the day, my father was busy in the oil industry. He ended up getting his engineering degree and starting a company. I sold it after he and my mother passed on. They were hit by a semi truck and killed instantly.”

  “Oh.” She nodded slowly. “That’s very sad and I am sorry. I am still shocked that you are so lonely, without family. But I suppose I know how it feels. I grew up like that. It was just us three, in that tiny apartment. We became very close. My mother had a few other children, but they all passed away shortly after birth. They were all sick, and we couldn’t afford proper medical care, just a midwife who couldn’t help. My mother died giving birth to my little brother, who also died. That happened when I was twelve years old. That’s why I’m an only child. My father was disappointed that he never got a son, but I was like a son because I started working young to take care of him when he got the cancer. He told me that he was proud of me before he died.”

  “I wish my father had told me that he was proud of me before he passed on,” Chris said bitterly. When he noticed Chanda’s concerned expression, he softened. “My parents and I were a bit at odds. I am lucky that I was in the will to inherit everything, the property, the money, the oil company.”

  “Why were they so – how do you say it? – at odds with you?”

  Chris shifted, now uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure why he had already opened this much to a person that he barely knew. If he told her the truth, she would not want to be with him. Someone as pure as Chanda surely wanted a good boy. “We had many disagreements. My brother’s death tore us all apart. But it’s really OK. We are all at peace now.” Again, he caught bitterness creeping into his tone. He hastily corrected himself. “Of course I miss them all. I have been very lonely. I just miss the old times, when we were all together. We used to have such huge get-togethers at Christmas and Thanksgiving.”

  “What is Thanksgiving?”

  “It is an American holiday where we gather together and eat lots of food. We usually eat a whole turkey, and mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce, and we give thanks for our blessings from throughout the year.” When he noticed Chanda’s clueless expression, he decided to show her a picture on his phone. “This is what our Thanksgiving spread looks like. All that food. Everyone brings something. It’s always delicious. Families usually get together and pray and eat. Then we watch football. But I haven’t celebrated in years. My cook, Rita, will make me a plate every year but my heart is never in it.”

  “Aw,” Chanda looked sad. “Well, I would eat Thanksgiving with you.”

  Chris smiled. “You have no idea how much that means to me. If you want to come back to the United States with me after this, we will have Thanksgiving together. Rita can make us an amazing spread and you can make some Cambodian food if you want.”

  “Going to America is my dream. I would love to.”

  Chris flushed. Now he was unsure of what to say. In America, bringing up marriage and commitment was a topic that new couples usually avoided, especially if they had never not even had sex yet. But Chanda seemed frank and open about the idea, even this early in the relationship. Was she just using him for money? When he surveyed her sweet face, though, he knew that she wasn’t. She was seeking companionship more than anything, just as he was. There was nothing for her here and maybe he could help her with that. He could elevate her out of this poverty.

  Chanda seemed to sense that he was feeling awkward because she changed the subject. She began to tell him about the history of the city. “Daun Penh founded this city. Her name means Grandmother Penh and Phnom Penh means ‘Penh’s hill.’ She came here in 1372 and they say that this lady found a Koki tree floating down the river and in it she found four Buddha statues and a statue of Vishna. She was very happy, so she had her men build a hill and a temple to house these statues. We will go to see them today.”

  “Wow. Do you think that really happened?”

  “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “But I believe in miracles.”

  “I do too,” he agreed. “I like hearing your pronunciation. Can you teach me any other words?”

  She beamed, enjoying her moment of importance. “You are so composed and smart! I love that I can teach you something,” she giggled, a bit nervously. She was excited to open up a new world for him, to show him things that he knew nothing about. Suddenly, the culture that she found so suffocating and the life that no longer contented her in this country seemed so much richer and more intriguing. Beauty that she had not noticed in years became more apparent. Her face betrayed how happy she suddenly felt. “All right, here is how to say hi.”

  Chris pulled out his small book of key Khmer words. “Soo-sty,” he managed.

  “Very good,” she clapped her hangs together. “Now ask me how I am.”

  “An-ahk so-so …” he faltered.

  Chanda stated the term effortlessly, then coached him on pronunciation. She helped him learn several other words contained in his little book. “And do you want to know how to say I love you?” she asked coyly.

  He smiled slowly, touched by how loving this woman was. “Sure. I would like to be able to say this to you every night.”

  She blushed and looked down sharply to hide it. “Kee-nom soh-line ah-nahk,” she said extremely slowly.

  Chris repeated it. When she beamed and nodded in encouragement, he clasped her hands and repeated it more urgently. “I do,” he added in English.

  “I do, too,” she said softly.

  They took a tuk-tuk to the Wat Phnom first. They entered the park through a long line of luscious palms. Chris admired the beautiful fountain and the looming white temple beyond it. “Can I get a photo of you?” he asked Chanda.

  She posed in front of the fountain, whipping her pink skirt around her legs as if she were Marilyn Monroe. Then, hand in hand, they strolled up the stone steps to the temple. Chanda knelt in respect for a few moments and Chris stood awkwardly beside her, unsure of what to do. After she kissed the Buddha’s feet, she leaped back up. “You don’t have to show respect. This is not your religion
. We do not demand it from tourists,” she assured him.

  Again they posed for photos, looking like a happy new couple in all of the selfies. With pride, Chris kissed her again.

  “You should see this place at night. They light it up and it is very pretty,” she told him.

  “We can come back tonight. But I’m excited to see what else you have to show me.”

  She nodded. “There are many places! Where would you like to go next?”

  “Show me the Royal Palace,” Chris requested after consulting his guide book.

  “That will be a treat. I have only been there once myself. There are many places in this city where I have not gone, even though I have been here my whole life.”

  “Why is that?” he asked curiously.

  She shrugged. “Too much work, and too little time.”

  “Well now we can enjoy it all.” Chris squeezed her hand, thrilled to show her more of the city that she had always lived in but had never been able to enjoy. “You deserve this.”

  They first went to the Royal Palace. Chris was awed by how beautiful and regal the building was. While the rest of the city was sprawling and dirty, with dirt streets and open public latrines, some parts of it, such as the Palace, were kept clean and in beautiful condition.

  Then they viewed a few other temples. Phnom Penh was covered in gorgeous stone Buddhist temples that the people kept cleaner and nicer than their own homes. The temple decorations and statues and offering cluttered at the statues’ feet suggested how profoundly worshipful Cambodians really were. “I can’t believe how religious you people are,” Chris commented to Chanda as she knelt before yet another Buddha.

  “Do you not have many churches in the United States? It seems America is very religious,” she answered in a confused tone. “I have seen many photos of the US and its churches.”

  “We do, but…” Chris shrugged. “Perhaps I have grown blind to them since I have always lived there. I’m so used to America that it has stopped being special to me. I guess we do have churches everywhere, but some of them are in strip malls or trailers. Not all of them are this special. Only Catholics really take the effort to build beautiful churches and cathedrals anymore. But I guess there are many churches in my town and I just stopped noticing them a long time ago. ”