Mastering Her Heart (Love, Daddy 2)

“Lord Tower?” Sir James stops just outside the open office door.

The staff know I am available to them at all times. I care deeply about each one of them. Well, I am available unless the red light is on outside my door, but that’s only happened once in twenty years. It wasn’t because I brought someone here with me. No, it was when I felt most alone and wished for that loneliness to punish me.

I smile at James. The genial smile comes easily for me but for too long it’s been merely a facial reaction without the depth of joy it should represent. “Yes. Come in.”

“May I ask a favor?” James is attired in a black suit that absorbs any light, seeming to stay pressed and sharp without a single crease as he moves forward into the room and takes a seat in one of my white wingback chairs. My office is a blend of purity and decadence. Fresh cream and white, splashes of gold, moments of rich red the color of blood.

Seems that is the theme in my life and it repeats itself in places I didn’t realize until right now.

“Of course, Sir James. What can I do for you?”

My club has kept the old school dignity of the lifestyle alive in this area. This world is not what it once was. She changed everything for me the day she swept my heart from my chest with a single glance.

I am still the Lord of this House, but I have not raised a hand, a tool or a touch to anyone since that day I met my stepdaughter. She was too young then, of course, and my feelings toward her were simple, pure, paternal. Nonetheless, the essence of her heart shifted something in my very DNA. My being changed that day.

At first I was her protector. A custodian of her in every way. I took joy in her joy. Pain in her pain. I provided for her. Loved her. Kept her safe. I knew she was destined to be mine. A part of me in some way for the rest of my life.

As the years moved by, what grew in my heart shook me to my very core. As she grew into a woman, my wanting changed.

Then, the want became too much. Too acutely painful. As she blossomed under my very nose, the beast inside of me grew and roared to life. It was wrong. She was too innocent and I knew I would destroy her if I stayed.

So, I left. My shame multiplied tenfold as I said goodbye and kissed the tears from her cheeks. Secretly dying inside as I tried to explain to her not only why her mother and I were parting, but why I was leaving.

As I struggled with the decision to stay or go, my fate was sealed. My other life, my life as Lord Tower threatened to be exposed by a former business advisary who wandered into my club one evening. Most in the life are discreet, respecting the decency of keeping this part of our life out of the public eye.

Unfortunately, not all men are honorable. Imagining Willow being exposed to this other part of my life at her age made me realize just how much she would be hurt by me if I stayed. If it wasn’t this person, I feared it would eventually be someone else that would bring to a public forum my status as the owner of Club Tower. If it were to happen, I wanted the damage to her to be minimized. Couple that with the growing desire I had for my stepdaughter, the pain I was sure to cause her if I stayed, I could no longer put my need to be close to her in front of her need to be safe. To enjoy her innocence and find a life for herself.

Because if I stay I will hurt you. And I will kill myself a thousand times before I could ever let that happen, my sweet Willow. My Caramia.

Thinking of the endearment I’d given her so long ago, a true smile lights my lips. I recall how she’s corrected me with that sweet, sassy nature. Making sure I knew that the correct Italian words were ‘cara mia’. I knew she was right, but the name I gave her was for me. A deliberate alteration of the words that represented what she meant to me.

Today, as I stand here looking into her face through my binoculars, I feel a pain like being crucified. Or redeemed. Perhaps both. Because she’s walked into my life again.

The aching I’ve pushed away for so long is balled now into a fist of iron and spears, deep in the pit of my stomach.

I want her. So strongly it’s as though she invented wanting itself.

She has brought the life back to my beast in the space of a few seconds. He roars inside of me with a vengeance and the word that has repeated itself in my head every day since I met her pound like hammers in my temples. My fear now is she will never understand. But, I will not lose her again. If it takes the rest of my life, she will understand the true meaning of the that word.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Now, it’s time for my stepdaughter to meet her destiny.

C H A P T E R T W O

WILLOW

I’m not sure what started it, but in the limo ride over to the club we got into a discussion about happiness. Specifically, are we happy? Like, each of us, and what does ‘being happy’ mean, exactly, anyway?

Once we got down to it, none of us really seemed to know. The three friends I had with me couldn’t come up with anything. And the only thing I could think of after the conversation turned from existential to downright absurd was how that question actually applied to me.

The best thing I could come up with?

Meh. I’m happy.

Ish.

Happy-ish. Let’s leave it at that.