My Favorite Daddy (Dark Daddies 6)

I have to get rid of him.

I step closer to the man. He doesn’t move back. Actually, he softens a bit.

“Listen, honey, please. This isn’t the time. You’re tired, you’re dirty. If you want to talk, we can talk. But not right now.”

He takes a sharp breath and lets it out. “I think Mary’s leaving me.”

“Oh, Louis.” A wave of guilt rides over me. He needs me right now, the poor man. But…

I can’t. Not this second, at least.

“I don’t know what to do. There are… lawyers involved.” He looks away, clearly embarrassed.

I touch his arm. “Listen to me. Go to a hotel, clean yourself up, and call your lawyer. I know you have one. Tell him what’s happening if you haven’t already.”

“Yes, of course,” he says, a little dazed. “Couldn’t I just use your apartment?”

“No, honey,” I say gently. “You need your own place. Go get cleaned up, speak with your lawyer. We can talk about it soon.”

“When?” he asks.

“Tomorrow.”

I know I shouldn’t give a time frame, but I’m desperate. I’m terrified of Brady showing up and making this worse.

“Tomorrow,” he echoes.

“I promise. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

He nods sharply. “Okay then. I’ll call you.”

“Good. Go get cleaned up.” I squeeze his arm before letting it go. “You’re going to be okay, Louis. I promise. I’ll help.”

“Thank you, Aria,” he says and turns away. “I’ll be going.”

I watch him walk away, relief flooding over me. He looks like a zombie, shuffling along, but at least he’s leaving.

Poor Louis. He’s not the strongest person in the world. He was born to a rich family and inherited a shipping business, and it practically runs itself. He’s floated through life, doing what’s expected of him, marrying a nice girl, all that.

Now he’s deeply unhappy and completely unprepared for life on his own.

I wasn’t lying when I said I’d help him. I really will, as much as I can. But I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it tomorrow. I hope I can, but I’m not sure yet.

I sit on the stoop, suddenly exhausted. Brady comes strolling down the street, a little smile on his lips, just a few minutes later.

“Morning,” he says to me and stops to look down. “You look like hell.”

I glare at him. “Thanks, asshole.”

“Seriously, did something happen? You look miserable.”

“You happened.” I stand up and force myself to smile. “I think I just need some coffee.”

“I can handle that.” He reaches out his hand and I take it almost instinctively. I wonder if Louis is around, watching from a distance.

I know Louis looks at me. I know he thinks about me. All my clients look at me and wonder what it would be like to be with me for real, at least to some degree. It’s part of the unspoken side of this business.

But I don’t normally let it bother me. Now though, I can’t help wondering if there’s more to it than just curiosity. From what he’s told me, Mary doesn’t seem like the type to want to leave him. There has to be more to the story than I know.

Fucking hell. Why does this have to happen right now? Right when I’m in this weird arrangement with Brady, when things are so complicated and intense. I don’t have the time or energy to take care of Louis on top of everything else.

We head to this little coffee place nearby. I’ve never seen it before, and I’m too distracted to really take it in. We get drinks and sit down on a bench at the edge of a park, watching people slowly drift past.

“You okay?” he asks me.

“Hm?” I look up at him then smile. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”

“You’re distracted. Busy thinking about me?”

“Totally.” I give him my best smile, and he smiles back a little warily.

“Really, what’s up? You’ve barely said a word.”

“Nothing, honestly. It’s just early.”

“How late do you normally sleep?”

I snort. “It’s more an issue of going to bed at a normal hour.”

“You sound incredibly old.”

“I think I might be.”

He laughs lightly. “Come on, old lady. You were in bed by one at the latest.”

“I guess working with all these older men is really aging me prematurely.”

He rolls his eyes. “Please. I’m nearly twice your age and I can outlast you, no problem.”

“You’re a freak of nature,” I say plainly.

“Obviously. But still.”

“You’re also twenty years younger than most of my clients.”

“Really?” He purses his lips. “Don’t you find it strange, dealing with men that age? I mean, they could be your father.”

“True,” I say. “But it’s also good. I think I help make them a little younger. Or at least to remember what it was like when they were young.”

He grunts at that. “Maybe. I don’t need a reminder, though.”

“I don’t know, old man.” I grin at him.

“Please. You’re the one whining about staying up too late.”