Dear Diary (Love, Daddy)

With that, I spin on my heel and look through the throng, searching….

“Where are you, little one?” I whisper through gritted teeth, my eyes working their way around the room.

Nothing.

I search for the busty blonde that dragged her away, but again, nothing.

I head toward the bar pushing my way through people without apologizing. She seemed friendly with the bartender so I want to hit him up for anything he may know.

At the bar, I grab his attention with a hundred-dollar bill between my fingers.

“What can I get you?” He comes over leaning in.

“That brunette earlier. Club soda, no ice, with lemon? Lavender dress…”

He nods. “Yeah?”

“You know her?”

He gives me a casual shrug. “Not really. Just her drink. She comes in with the same group a couple times a week.”

“You don’t know her name? Anything about her?”

“Not really. I saw her skate out the front door a few minutes ago though. She’s not usually a late-nighter. Not sure where the rest of her crew went.” He raises his head over the crowd. “Their table’s empty.”

“Thanks.” I shove the money across the bar and turn toward the front door.

I’ll find a way to see her again. I have a private investigator who I employ. He'll know where to dig. There are cameras here in the bar. I’ll give him an unlimited budget to pay off whoever is necessary to get film of her. Then do a reverse image search for her in whatever facial recognition software we have or can buy. I’ll spend the rest of my life searching for those green eyes.

I step into the warm night. The New York scent of car exhaust and the sour sewer is familiar, driving away the last of her sweet scent. My driver, Clancy, stands at the curb, holding the door open when he spots me.

I nod at him, my quiet way of saying thank you as I listen to the cracking of my teeth as I bite down in frustration.

I slide across the back seat as he closes the door undoing the button of my suit jacket.

I hear the driver’s door shut as I open the mini-fridge and take out a bottle of water. The limo eases forward, accelerating into traffic while I unscrew the cap ready to drown my sorrows in the next best thing to a cold shower right now.

Before I can get the bottle to my mouth, I’m jolted with a splash of chilled liquid and a crunching metal sound as the limo jerks viciously and screeches to a stop. I lurch in my seat, the water barely missing my pants and hitting the floor instead.

“Fuck!”

“Are you alright, Mister Carter?” Clancy lowers the privacy glass, giving me a concerned look.

I peer out the tinted windows. “I'm unharmed, are you?”

“I'm alright too, sir.”

I open my car door. Outside the limo, I eye the old red Honda that’s crumpled headfirst into the rear passenger side corner of the limo.

I glance at the damage and then at the Honda. The driver staggers out, practically falling to the pavement. When he looks up at me, my fear that he might be injured turns to anger.

His eyes are bloodshot. He attempts to steady himself against his car.

“You’re fucking drunk,” I shake my head, disgust pouring through me. “You could've killed someone.”

He grabs the Honda’s driver’s door handle and holds himself up.

And that’s when I see her.

My throat tightens. The blood rushes away from my extremities to compensate for the erratic beating of my heart. I shove my way by the driver, yanking the back door of the Honda open.

There she is. Clutching her head.

Fuck. She’s hurt.

If she’s injured, I’ll snap that driver’s spine over my knee. He’ll never see the morning. Chastity gazes up at me in wide-eyed confusion as I reach for her free hand, the buzzing, sharp tinge of emotion flooding me again. She’s shaking.

I easer her up and out of the car, and she leans against my arm.

She feels so much smaller right now. I want to bundle her up to my chest. My throat constricts as a heated sensation coils around my heretofore-unfeeling heart. I was afraid it had atrophied from years of misuse and neglect.

Yet here she is. My heart. In my arms.

Her tits crush against my chest. She shifts her body weight into me, trusting me to hold her up, and in that moment, I vow to never break that trust.

I stroke the side of her forehead. “Are you okay, little one?”

My voice seems to center her. She pushes away from me to stand straight, smoothing her dress over her hips, and I can’t believe I called her little one. Those words have never touched my lips before, but now that they have, they belong to her.

Chastity’s drunk driver is leaning against the car, trying not to doze off.

“Clancy,” I snap and he nods my way. “Call 911. Police and medical. She needs to go to the hospital.”