Bring Him Home - Page 4

When I put together who he was, I was sold and he hadn’t even pitched me on his idea. He still didn’t know who I was until the next morning when he walked into my office, surprise clear on his face.

I knew that night as we shared a few whiskeys that he was a hard-working man. I wished that the fate of his business didn’t rest in my hands. I hated that he had to ask me for help. I didn’t really let him, though, already telling him I was in for whatever he needed.

I respected him. More than anything I’d been drawn to his random words of wisdom. He spoke so highly of his home and mostly his family. He wasn’t like any man I’d met before. He was nothing like my own father, who I have no shred of respect for.

Investing with him not only turned a profit, it gave me a bigger reward in his friendship. I don’t touch any of the profits that the company makes. I just set it into an account and let it earn interest. I don’t need the money. I found myself just wanting to help Wyatt. The profits are just an added bonus. What I do value is his advice during those sleepless nights when I can’t work my way through a problem. He always picks up the phone, whether my problem is work related or personal. I have a lot of family bullshit and he always takes the time to give me his unbiased advice.

Today Wyatt called asking me for a favor. The most important favor he could ever ask of me, according to him. He needed me to find his baby girl for him. She had abruptly left home and come to this concrete jungle all alone. I knew I had to look for her and I would make it my mission to find her and keep her safe. I felt a need to make him proud of me. A feeling I am not used to, due to the rocky relationship with my own father. Wyatt gave me her location based on the tracker he has on her phone. I wasn’t the least bit shocked that he was tracking her. He is a smart man that loves his family fiercely.

I was sure I was going to find some spoiled brat, not some little thing with dimples that grow deeper and sexier by the second. I am fucked. I grab her wrist in a firm hold, not wanting her to get away from me. I’m not letting her go, now or maybe ever. Yeah, I am so fucked.

“My dad?” she asks as I start to pull her through the crowd. She doesn’t fight me but she’s walking slowly so I have to pull her a little.

“Of course your father.” I stop to look down at her. Why isn’t she trying to stop me?

“Is he mad?” she asks. I can tell she already knows the answer to her question. Those dimples drop from her round cheeks. If she knew it would upset him then why’d she do it? I do shit that pisses my own father off all the time but I don’t care. I also don’t have a father like hers. No, she doesn’t have a father; she has a dad. Big fucking difference.

“Don’t make me go home.” She peeks up at me through those thick lashes. “I just wanted to see what was out here.” She licks those plump lips. I am out here. Men like me who have all kinds of ideas about what we could do with a little girl like her.

People are glancing at us as we walk by. We look like total opposites, with her being this tiny country girl and me being a big man in a suit. I’m guessing my idea of branding and hers are two different things, because we come from two different worlds. I understand why her dad doesn’t want her running around New York City all alone. He can rest assured I won’t let anyone touch her but who is going to stop me from touching her again? Even now I should let go of her wrist but I don’t.

“Come on,” I tell her, heading back toward my car, where my driver is waiting. The cops let him park where he shouldn’t just because he is my driver. The officer that is standing with Sam gives me a chin up. I nod in response as I shuffle her into the back of my car. She gets in way too easily. Sam shuts the door behind us and now I’m surrounded by the smell of her. I close my eyes because her scent is intoxicating and I don’t think I can be in these close quarters without mauling this poor girl. I need to get myself under control before I open them again. I suck in a breath, which doesn’t help, only getting more of the smell of her. My eyes fly open, knowing that isn’t helping.

Tags: Ella Goode Erotic
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