Daddy’s Orders (Silver Fox Daddies)

One little push. That was all it’d take to shove open the car door and just… jump out.

As I watched the streets of Manhattan through the car window, it was all I could think about. Well, that and the fact that I was actually in Manhattan. Dad never let me go there, even though the compound where I’d lived since forever was only a few miles away on Long Island. I’d been to Manhattan once, back when I was barely a teenager and Dad needed to take me to a specialist that didn’t do house calls.

As we drove, my eyes went from the tops of the buildings—those gleaming skyscrapers that reached all the way up into the clouds—then down to the ground, to street level where thousands of people, from businessmen and women to shop workers to college kids and everything in between, made their way through the hustle and bustle.

I could’ve watched the view from the window for hours, mesmerized by the life and vitality of the city. Dad and I were in the back of one of his luxury cars, the driver hidden from us by an ink black partition.

As we drove, I found myself wondering over and over how easily I’d be able to jump out. Tuck and roll—that’s how it was done in the movies I’d seen, anyway. I’d wait until the car pulled into a slow turn around a corner and then make my move. There were so many people out and about that once I hit the ground and got on my feet I could just melt into the crowd.

“Yeah… no, she’s with me right now… no word yet from Stone about going back on the deal… as far as I can tell, he’s still locked and loaded and ready to go. We’re on our way now; the package should be in his hands within the hour.”

I felt sick the way he spoke about me like I was an item, a bauble he could throw into the pot to sweeten the deal. Maybe I should’ve been used to it by then, but hearing those words from my own dad…

“Hey.” Dad nodded sharply to me as he took the phone from his ear and slipped it into his jacket pocket. “You alive over there?”

“Does it make any difference to you?” I asked. “Seems like if I were dead I’d be one less problem for you to worry about.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “I’m going to ignore the backtalk seeing as you’re going to be out of my hair in the next hour anyway. But I need you alive and kicking for the deal.”

“Well, I’m here talking to you, aren’t I?”

Dad reached forward, plunging his fingers into the bowl of mixed nuts between us and greedily shoving them into his mouth. I was hungry, not having had a bite since earlier that morning. I reached for a few nuts of my own, but I didn’t get far before Dad’s hand shot out with surprising speed and grabbed my wrist.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked. His hand gripped me hard enough to hurt, but I was used to it. Instead of protesting, I did my best to ignore the pain.

“Having a snack.”

“What’re your calories at for the day?”

“Are you serious? You’re really monitoring my intake on the day you get rid of me?”

“Of course, I am. Just because you’re going to be some other guy’s responsibility in an hour or so doesn’t mean that I’m going to be slacking in my duties.”

Dad had always been serious as hell about my diet. “No one wants a fat girl” is what he would say whenever he caught me eating.

“I barely touched my breakfast,” I said. “And unless you want me to pass out from hunger before I see this man, you should let me have something.”

He kept his eyes on mine, as if scanning for some sign that I was lying. When he was satisfied, he released his grip.

“Fine. Just don’t pig out. If you eat too much salt it’ll make you look bloated. We want you in your best form for the first impression. You only get one of those, you know.”

He grinned, as if pleased with his own words. I took a few nuts from the dish and brought them slowly to my mouth.

We pulled in front of a tall skyscraper, the building steel and gleaming glass. Over the row of doors that led into the lobby was the word “Stone” in clear, bold letters. Dozens of people streamed in and out of the place.

“Is he here?” I asked.

Dad shook his head. “Nope. We’re taking his personal helicopter to a private airfield north of the city. That’s where he is.”

The driver got out and opened the side door for us. Dad stepped out first and I followed, onto the busy Midtown streets. The air was alive with the sort of energy only New York had. Once more, I found myself struck by the urge to run, to break free from Dad and this Stone guy and run as far away as I could from this nightmare of a life.

A smile formed on my face as I considered the idea, the daydream enough to make me forget, if only for a moment, that Dad had me by the arm, leading me toward an uncertain fate. I could run to the nearest coffeeshop and work as a barista. I’d make lattes and mochas for all the busy people in the city, goofing around with my coworkers as I earned my own money. Then, I’d go back to my cute, cozy, little apartment and work on my novel.

It was about as perfect a life as I could imagine.

“Come on.” Dad jerked my arm hard, pulling me out of my daydream and back into the moment.

We stepped into the lobby, the space huge, sleek and modern. As we moved through, the driver carrying my bags right behind us, I found myself having a hard time wrapping my head around what I was seeing. There were so many people there, a massive company all built by one man. A tinge of anger ran through me at the idea of what someone could accomplish with freedom and ambition. I had the latter, but not the former.

Dad spoke to someone at the front desk. The employee nodded toward a security guard, who quickly came over and joined us the rest of the way toward a private elevator. We stepped inside, the elevator shooting us up into the sky. The back of the elevator was glass, and soon we had an amazing view of the city as we rose higher and higher. Despite my situation, I couldn’t help but turn and watch, my hands on the glass and a smile on my face.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened onto the roof, revealing a small, black helicopter at the far end. A pair of guards stood there awaiting us along with a third man, who I guessed to be the pilot. The guard in the elevator led us toward them, and it took all the restraint I had to not simply stand there and gawk at the view.

“This her?” the pilot asked. He wore dark aviators but I could feel his eyes move over my body in a way I didn’t care for in the slightest.

“Sure is,” Dad said. “Is he ready?”

The pilot nodded. “Just spoke to him. Plane is gassed up and ready to go as soon as we arrive.”

My stomach tightened with tension, my head spinning at the idea of taking a private plane to a private island, flying thousands of miles from everything I’d ever known.

Luckily, or not so luckily, as the case might’ve been, Dad was there to make sure I stayed on task.

“Come on.” He jerked my arm again, this time harder than usual.

We made our way over to the helicopter, the pilot helping the guard load my bags into the back after guiding us inside. Once more, I was scared and excited all at once. Never before had I been in a helicopter.

The pilot started the engine and we were soon up and on our way. I kept my gaze focused out the window, trying to ignore Dad next to me as the city grew smaller and smaller below. The view was amazing, like looking down at a living map. I could make out the shape of Manhattan, the island packed full of buildings, the huge rectangle of Central Park plopped right in the middle. It wasn’t long before Brooklyn and Queens were visible in their entirety too, stretching all the way down Long Island.

We headed northwest toward New Jersey. The flight hardly took any time at all—it seemed like the instant we hit our peak we were already on the way back down, descending upon a tiny, private airfield.

We landed and the pilot helped me out, Dad not even bothering to ask how the flight agreed with me. I felt dizzy and disoriented once back on solid ground, still trying to wrap my head around how just a few minutes ago I’d been as high up in the sky as a bird in flight.

A sight off in the middle distance immediately took my mind away from that thought. I spotted a tall man in a white shirt and sunglasses leaning against a sleek, dark blue sports car. Not too far away sat a private jet.

“Is that him?” The words came out of my mouth in a whisper, barely audible over the whirring of the helicopter blades.

Dad smiled, waving in the direction of the man, who offered a slight, barely perceptible nod in response, his face impassive.

“That’s him. Now, I’m going to tell you this, and I’m only going to say it once—you’d better be on your best goddamn behavior. God knows how much I’ve spent over the years shaping you into something presentable. If you embarrass me in front of Stone…” He trailed off, leaving me to imagine whatever threat he might have in mind.

We drew closer to the man, and I was able to make out more of him. The first thing I noticed was that he easily stood close to six and a half feet tall. He was dressed in a crisp, white button-up shirt, his sleeves rolled up and cuffed around thick, ropey forearms. Navy slacks and a pair of black loafers completed the look. Everything on his body appeared designed just for him and fit perfectly.

Not only was he tall, but he was also built, his shoulders broad and round, his chest massive, and his hands big enough to start me wondering what they might feel like on my bare skin. I found myself, to my surprise, growing more and more aroused, a tension forming between my legs that I hadn’t felt in… God, I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d felt such a way. One thing was for sure, he was sexier than any man I’d ever seen.

The man unfolded his arms. My eyes darted over his features, noting his square, strong jaw, cleft chin, slender nose, and thick, light brown hair with just enough salt and pepper to be interesting. I couldn’t quite pinpoint his age, since it appeared he was prematurely greying. I guessed somewhere in his late thirties, a good amount older than myself.

“Mr. Stone!” Dad took on a strange, obsequious posture and tone, as if he were afraid of the man. As he stuck out his hand toward the stranger, I could sense the man’s attention was all on me.

I was dressed simply, wearing a dark pink maxi dress and matching heels. The way the man’s lips curled into a small smile at the sight of me made me think he was more than happy with what he was seeing, despite the modest nature of the dress.

“As you can see, Mr. Stone,” Dad said, sweeping his hand in my direction. “Here she is, just as promised.”

The man didn’t say a word to Dad, instead stepping closer to me. He was so big—tall and muscular, everything about him imposing and more than a little intimidating. The man paused a few feet from me, taking one more look up and down my body.

It was strange. Normally, the idea of a man ogling me in that way would’ve offended, maybe even made me sick to my stomach. But with him, it was different. I liked the way he looked at me. In fact, I found myself wishing I’d worn something other than the modest dress I happened to have on.

“Mr. Stone,” Dad said. “This is—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish before the man reached forward and took my hand, which was raised in preparation for a shake.

“Pleasure to meet you.” His voice was low and deep, commanding without trying. He turned my hand over and leaned forward, placing his lips onto the back of it. A shiver ran through me, the intensity of it making me a bit dizzy. “My name is Logan Stone.”

He let my hand go, and I dumbly kept it in the air.

“Emily!” Dad said my name in a hiss. Out of the corner of my eye, I could make out the expression of tight anger on his face. “Don’t just stand there—introduce yourself!”

I cleared my throat and composed myself.

“Emily Marone,” I said. “A pleasure, Mr. Stone.”

Logan nodded and offered a small smile before reaching toward the bag I carried.

“Allow me.”

“No!”

By pure instinct, I wrapped my arms around the bag in a protective manner. Logan cocked his head to the side, seemingly confused by the suddenness and severity of my actions. Once more, Dad regarded me with an expression of annoyance and frustration.

“I mean, that’s OK. A girl has to have her personal things, you know?”

I didn’t want to tell him what was in the bag, and I most definitely didn’t want Dad to find out. Inside were my personal effects, but most importantly, the bag contained a trio of journals that comprised the novel that I was in the process of writing—a romance that I’d been creating in secret for the last couple of years.

The novel was my hidden little dream, and there was no way on earth I could let Dad find out about it.

“Naturally.” Logan’s easy tone and calm confidence disarmed the awkwardness of the situation. “Anyway, shall we board?” He pivoted to the side, nodding toward the stairway that led up and into the plane.

“Please let me know if there are any problems,” Dad said, coming over to Logan. He shot me another look, a clear reminder that his words were a warning that I needed to be on my best behavior.

“I certainly will,” Logan said. “And I don’t mean to rush, but we really ought to get moving. Can’t park a private plane on the runway forever, you know.”

“Of course,” Dad said. “Thank you again, Mr. Stone, for taking this offer. I have no doubt you’ll be more than pleased with your decision.”

Logan turned his attention to me. “So far, I am. Emily, if you wouldn’t mind coming with me…”

Without so much as a look back toward Dad, I stepped to Logan’s side. Together, we ascended the stairs, Logan taking my arm and leading me up. We reached the top, Logan placing his hand on the small of my back as he led me through, his touch once more making me weak in the knees and tight between my legs.

“Wow.”

The word tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it, but it was my instant reaction to the sight of the interior of the private plane before me.

The interior was spacious, streamlined, and contemporary with bits of elegant flourishes here and there. The seats were plush and leather, the carpeting was beautiful, and there was even a bar set up. A small meeting area was at the far end, and near the entry door was a cozy little space with a TV that struck me as perfect for watching a movie or curling up with a book.

Down the length of the plane was a small hallway, the end of it leading to a bedroom. Something about the sight of the bed, coupled with being so near to Logan, brought to mind the sorts of things a man and a woman could get up to on a bed like that.

I remembered Dad’s warning, how he’d stressed above all else that I couldn’t do anything of the sort with Logan. Little did Dad know, his warning only put the idea more firmly into my head. Not to mention that there was clearly no love lost between him and Logan—this whole arrangement was a pretext for him screwing over Logan in some unknown way.

What if I were to lose my virginity to Logan? What if I were to give away my oh-so-precious purity in a way that was not only on my terms, but to a man my Dad clearly despised?

That would show him.

The door shut with a thunk, and I turned to see that Logan and I were finally alone.

He smiled.

“Wine?”