Dear Diary (Love, Daddy)

Red velvet cake.

“I bake,” she’d said. All a fucking set up. Too perfect. When something is too good to be true, I should have known better.

The chance meeting at the bar, the friend calling her away so I’d seek her out and crave her. She even knew which drink I preferred so she could order the same one and strike up a conversation.

The conveniently drunk driver, the damsel in distress, the offer for a home-baked slice of cake. A cake that is my mother’s specialty. She won ribbons in the county fair, the women’s club…easy info to dig up if the right people were on it.

She hit me in my weak spot. A spot I thought I’d kept hidden. Someone close to me has betrayed me, the only other person who could know…

Fuck. Alice?

No, it can’t be. My housekeeper has been like a second mother to me. She wouldn’t. We’re more than just employer and employee, we’re friends. I trust her. And she betrayed that trust. It adds up. I hate that it does, but it does. She’s the only one that’s had access to my bedroom, to my computer. Sure, there are locks, but I’m sure she knows where to find the keys. There are passwords, but they can be cracked.

Clearly, she’s seen my journals, found my things and she’s sold me out to the highest bidder, all so that this whole thing could be set up. Or maybe she’s as innocent as Chastity, forced to betray me under threats against her or her family. The thought just makes me angrier. What kind of monster uses two innocent women in this kind of sick scheme?

And why wouldn’t Alice come to me for help? How could I have made it clearer that I would always protect her?

It doesn’t matter. In the end, the plan worked.

Chastity gave me everything I wanted so I’d fuck her, so I’d give her a glimpse into the world I keep secret and have some damn juicy evidence against me. And who can blame her? She doesn’t know me, and no doubt whatever danger she’s in from whoever is after me is a more pressing concern in her life.

I don’t know whether to go in there and spank her, go in there and fuck her, or just get the fuck out.

At my age, I finally know what it means to have my heart broken. In a matter of a few hours, I’ve let my guard down and look what happened.

Never again.

My hand tightens around the doorknob and I pull the door open when she appears in her bedroom doorway. She steps forward, looking like the perfect sin.

She's playing me.

Wearing a pink and lavender little nightgown deal that brushes the tops of her lush thighs, she’s the most heart-rending sight. Her breasts fill the top, her nipples poking the translucent fabric, making my mouth water.

Her face falls as she sees me at the front door.

“You’re leaving?” Her voice nearly cracks, her eyes wide.

Such a perfect actress—one I’ve just kissed and stroked and imagined walking next to me the rest of my goddamned life. Her flavor still burning through me. But, still, I don’t want to destroy her. She can’t be the mastermind behind all of this. She’s just a pawn in the game.

“I need to deal with an emergency. I’m so sorry.”

She tilts her head to the left and her brows furrow over her luminous-green eyes.

“It’s the middle of the night. You were just going to leave without saying anything? That’s sort of a dick move.” She wraps her arms around her center, jutting out a hip and I hate myself right now.

I look away.

I want to hate her. But I can’t.

Even if she's a liar.

“You’re right. I’m a dick. I’m sorry. I’m doing you a favor. Take care, Chastity.”

I shut the door behind me with a click, and steel myself against the stabbing pain in my heart.

Chapter 9

Jackson

It’s been two fucking days, and I’m sitting here with a hard-on as I watch her moving around her desk.

My office at the Westwood building leads in through the back with a private elevator. The wall of screens in my office shows nothing but Chastity right now. Every possible angle is covered. I had my private security team install cameras around her desk and more along her regular routes through the building.

But that’s the least of it.

I’ve had my PI following her and digging up anything he can. Then there are the half dozen camera angles that look directly onto the front and back entrance of her apartment building, both ends of the corridor outside her apartment, the stairwell… and one installed in the building across from her apartment window, looking directly inside.

She may have been the honeytrap that could have broken me, but my obsession has not lessened. The thing is, she’s not been seen with anyone since I left her the other night, at least not outside of here with co-workers. She’s been totally alone. If she was a set-up, I’d think she would have met with someone by now.