Single Daddy Scot (Hot Scots)

‘Right. That’s me off,’ I announce. ‘Have you got a hug for me?’

Louis throws himself at me, full force, squeezing me three times. ‘One for Charles, one for you, and a big one for Ella,’ he tells me, hugging me tighter that time.

Aye, I’ve also got a big one for Ella. She’ll be getting it real soon.

‘Louis must be fond of the ho pair.’ I try not to laugh. Mum is always getting things wrong even if she uses that tone; the one nosy mothers everywhere have perfected. The oh-I-mean-nothing-by-it-but-please-do-fill-in-the-blanks. ‘The wee laddie was chatting away about her all the way here.’

I don’t answer, saved by Louis’s hands on the lapels of my jacket as he tells me to take good care of Charles Rififi.

‘Give over, Stella. If the lad had something to say, his lips would be movin’.’

‘I’m only saying that Fin happened to mention to Ivy what a sweet girl Ella the ho pair was.’

‘It’s au pair,’ I correct.

‘Is that no’ what I just said?’

‘And I suppose Ivy just happened to mention it to you, did she? From LA?’ There’s nothing like a digging expedition, especially from the other side of the world.

My mother turns away, beginning to pat her hair in a tell as old as she is. ‘Fin just said that you seemed—’

‘For the love of God,’ my dad interjects. ‘Let the lad be!’

I leave the three of them at the hotel and head back to the office, pulling into a service station on the way. I fill up on fuel and grab a protein bar and a juice, given I hadn’t had time for lunch today, when my phone buzzes with a text.

Ella: There’s a very fancy looking box on my bed. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?

Me: Pixies, I answer, unsure how I should proceed. It was a last-minute gamble to put the box of knickers I’d ordered on her bed this morning. I wasn’t sure if she’d feel pressured or weirded out. But then again, I’m sure she’s become well acquainted with my tastes by now.

Ella: Lingerie pixies?

Me: So you have opened it?

Me: What do you think? Too forward.

Ella: I’m still trying to work out what the black string thing is.

Ella: Is it bondage?

Ella: It’s BONDAGE, ISN’T IT?

Ella: Oops. Caps lock!

Me: I thought you were a little excited there. Which in turn got me a little excited.

Ella: Do you like that sort of stuff?

Me: Bondage? Truthfully, I’m not a rabid aficionado. While I like a bit of slap and tickle as much as the next man, I’m not into the whole D/s thing. A little light bedroom bondage is more my speed, but I seize her questions as an opportunity.

Me: What’s not to like? A beautiful woman tied and at my mercy.

Me: Mine to kiss and suck.

Me: To bite and fuck.

Me: At my mercy and in ecstasy.

Me: Cat got your tongue?

Ella: No, but I am trying to roll it back up so it’ll fit in my mouth again.

Me: *Slots away for future reference*

Ella: Should I be scared?

Me: Not until I’ve introduced you to my dungeon gimp.

Ella: See you tomorrow morning?

Mac: If that’s still the best you’re offering, deal.

When she doesn’t respond, I get back into my car and drive to the office to pick up some paperwork. Unfortunately, as I’m just packing up my laptop, Ella’s stepmother walks into the room. She knocks first but doesn’t wait for the standard invitation, her expression seemingly delighted to see me. Or happy we’re alone?

I don’t spend too much time worrying about it, and instead direct my attention to the job at hand. Namely, getting her out of here, getting myself out of here, getting home and changed in quick turnaround to meet Keir for a few drinks at our favourite grotty pub. That’s not to say I don’t also make a mental note to have words with whoever is manning reception. Her visits are a recipe for disaster.

‘Mrs Alescio, what can I do for you?’

‘Jax!’ she says, one hand fluttering to her amply augmented chest. Unlike her stepdaughter who was blessed by the gods with natural and fucktastic tits and arse. ‘I was just in the area and thought I’d pop in and see how Raphaela’s getting on.’

‘And you wouldn’t have called her to ask that?’ I keep my expression open and my tone neutral as she slinks over to the chair on the opposite side of my desk. I notice she’s not dressed for a gym session, more like a liquid lunch somewhere.

‘She screens my calls,’ she says, waving an airy hand. ‘You know what young girls are like. Never wanting you to know where they are or what they’re doing.’

Definitely a liquid lunch by the way her eyes are glittering. And the half-truths she’s spewing. The thought occurs that maybe she sent Ella to me in an effort to find out where I live. It does seem a little extreme.