KING: A Daddy's Best Friend Romance

Pull yourself together. So he’s dated more people than you. He’s an older man, of course he has a past.

Why are you so wrapped up with him anyway?

I hurry toward the elevator, cheeks burning, trying not to cry. Jumping into the sleek elevator, this time it’s me who is avoiding everyone’s eyes. I get a couple of curious looks when I press the top floor button for access to the penthouse, but I’m not interested in satisfying their stupid curiosity or justifying my existence.

Just don’t get too attached. Then you’ll be all right.

I may need to know what he’s thinking at some point, but it doesn’t need to be right now. It’s better if I just take the dress, go out on the date, and not let my stupid fantasies get the better of me. He sees me as a stupid kid. After all, he put me to bed last night. If he saw me as a romantic partner, things would be different.

6

Raleigh

When she appears in the doorway, I’m absolutely speechless. This little girl has grown up to be a stunning, sexy, curvaceous, hot, sexpot. I can’t even pretend to ignore it.

But I’m not the first one to realize that, not by a long shot—she knows how to use herself. Her secret life is proof of that. So why doesn’t she seem to even aware of it?

My PI has done some more digging and found out who the person is that is running the site. The name is Kelsey. It’s surprising, in a way, that a woman would be in charge of something like that. It’s the first thing I asked him to confirm, that this Kelsey is a woman—a man would be more likely. But he said not only is she a woman, but she’s dead. Could she be the dead best friend?

Jordan gets in the limo and settles into the seat, crossing her legs at the knee and showing off some fine shoes. The whole ensemble probably cost me fifteen grand and honestly, it’s worth every penny.

“If only my friend Kelsey could see me like this,” she smiles, smoothing down the beaded fabric over her thighs. Kelsey.

Let it ride up, I think.

“You look great,” I say. “Beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she smiles shyly and turns away. “Are you sure it’s okay? I’ve never had something so extravagant, I almost feel guilty.”

“Don’t be silly,” I reply. “You look absolutely stunning. You’re just the kind of woman I need on my arm at this function. The other execs are going to be jealous as hell seeing you in that dress.”

“So is that all I am to you?” She grins as she says it, but I can see that naked vulnerability in her eyes. “A prop for your business partners?”

“That’s a lot of what the dress and shoes are,” I answer. “But you, you’re something different.”

She doesn’t ask what. There’s a silence in the car that feels oppressive. It’s filled with unanswered questions.

“Would you like a drink?” I ask, hoping to break it. I lean toward the bar. “Champagne?”

“Really?” she squeals. Sometimes I forget just how young she is. Not often, though.

Not often.

“Of course,” I say. “This is France. It practically flows out of the taps here.”

“But isn’t that an especially good one?” she asks.

I hold up the bottle of Dom Perignon. “Life’s too short to drink bad champagne,” I answer, and she smiles.

“I suppose so.”

“You mentioned Kelsey,” I say, trying to keep my voice even so as to not set her off. “Who’s that?”

“Kelsey?” That familiar shadow passes across her eyes. “She was my best friend. We were always supposed to travel together. But now it’s just me.”

“Was your best friend?” I don’t want to let on that I know anything about her, least of all that she’s passed.

“Yeah,” she says. “She passed away recently. Do you remember when you saw me at my parents’ place and I had just come home from a funeral? It was hers.”