Daddy's Submissive Little (Wounded Daddies 2)
CHAPTER TWO
Charlie
The girl in the chair in front of me has to be the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life. She is everything I find attractive; from her petite frame to the remarkable combination of fit and soft that so few girls can achieve. Of course, that’s only a part of the attraction, and maybe not even close to the most important part. She has deference in her eyes, nervousness, and an almost lost look. She desperately wants guidance and has no idea from whom she can get it.
I don’t know if I’ve ever met anyone who’s more naturally a Little than Charlotte is.
“I have to ask a hard question, now,” I say. She nods, but it’s almost as if she’s suddenly fearful. I have no idea what happened to her to make her so skittish, but whatever it was, it makes me angry in principle.
“You’re not only qualified for this job; you’re over-qualified by far. We would be very lucky to have you aboard, so why in the world would you do this? I guess what I’m asking is how can I know you aren’t just biding your time until a job that’s more worthy of you turns up?”
She looks at me for a moment and I can see she’s trying to decide whether she should be honest with me. I am far too familiar with that look, but at least I also enough experience to know whether what comes next is honest.
She says, “I shouldn’t tell you this. Every interview book I’ve ever read, and every how-to-succeed book says I shouldn’t.” She takes a sip of her coffee, and the sight of her lips with the tasteful, but still incredibly sexy red lipstick against the mug is almost enough to make me forget my question. Almost.
“I’m running away,” she says. “God, that sounds awful. It’s true. My life has been planned out for me, forever. My parents decided I would be a perfect student. They decided I would go to law school and be a perfect lawyer at a prestigious firm. They decided all of this before I could even walk. My grandfather left me a trust fund for school, and I just found out three weeks ago that I was in charge of those funds after I turned twenty-five.” She shrugged. “It was a nice birthday present, even though most of it was already spent on college. Suddenly, I didn’t have to rely on my parents’ money. I had enough to buy a reliable car and to fly out here. I paid for six months at the hotel and that’s that. I’m tired of being told what my future plans should be and I’m hoping to find them out for myself.”
“It took a lot of courage to strike out on your own,” I say.
She shakes her head. “Not really. I just know I’ll fail if I do what my parents want, and so I chose the coward’s path.” She sighs. “God, I’m an idiot.”
“Don’t call yourself that,” I say sharply. “Your resume says you’re damned close to a genius and nobody gets to tell you what’s courageous and what’s not, and that includes you.” I don’t intend for my voice to sound sharp and filled with warning, but I can’t help myself. She stares at me and swallows hard. I think her face flushes a little bit, and the color is perfect for so many reasons, not least of all because she reacted to my taking control in such a willing way.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’ve been pushed along for so long. Miss Perfect.”
“But now, Charlotte,” I say, “the only one doing that to you is you. If it hurt you when your parents did it, it’s wrong, so you can’t do it to yourself, either.”
I can’t believe I’m doing this! I’m not offering words of encouragement or reassurance. I’m… God, I need to get this in check!
“You’re right,” she says. She tries to smile. She’s not confident being confident, yet. “Anyway, I’m here because I needed to find out for myself who I am, and I needed to stop letting my family, my teachers, my friends, or anyone else, tell me about me.”
I nod and ask, “So who are you? Who’s Charlotte Harrington?”
She laughs, and there is no self-derision in her voice when she says, “Heck if I know. That’s why I’m out here on my own, to find out.” That brief moment of authentic smiles and real happiness is breathtaking, and the fact that it comes when she mentions her first forays into independence – unsure as they are – is even nicer to see.
“It sounds as if you’re on a pretty exciting journey,” I say.
She relaxes for a moment and then the tenseness returns. She smiles a little thinly and says, “I hope so.”
“Well,” I say. “I’d like you to start your journey here, with us.”
Her eyes light up like a kid who was just handed an ice-cream cone. “Really?”
I hold up a hand. “But, there’s one condition. Well, two actually.” All the nervousness comes back to her so I hurry along. “First, I want honesty. You just answered my question about why you’re here, honestly. My guess is you had lots of rehearsed reasons why that wouldn’t have been what you said.”
She nods. “Yes.”
“I don’t want rehearsed anything from you. I want honesty. Can I count on that?”
“Yes,” she says and I believe her.
“The second part is a little trickier. This job may seem easy, and you’re more than qualified, but I need your commitment.”
“You have it,” she says.
“That means you need to take the work seriously, even if it’s easy. It isn’t a classroom exercise. Companies have to lay people off, if we mess up. Developers sink millions into a property, based on our recommendations.”
“I’ll take it seriously,” she says.