Page 39 of A Daddy for Christmas 3: Rowan

“Probably. But, sure, if there’s something you need?”

“There is.” I put my hand on his thigh. “Trust me.”

He glances at me, smiling. “I do, Daddy.”

It’s been a whirlwind two days, but, despite being trapped—or maybe because of it—it’s been an amazing time. I don’t want it to end. Not that it has to. We’ve agreed to spend Christmas together, and then who knows what this thing between us will turn into after that? Hopefully something beautiful.

Rowan was right about the traffic in London. It’s terrible, but Rowan and I chat and laugh, which helps the time fly by. Eventually, we’re in the secure car park, where Rowan carefully parks the Rolls-Royce beside the Artura.

“Should I wait here, Daddy?”

“No. Come with me.”

“Okay.”

We get out, and he locks the car.

He wanders around it quickly, inspecting it. “I’ll need to get it valeted. It’s filthy now.”

“That does tend to happen when you drive a car.”

He laughs. “Yes! But Nigel hates it when the cars are dirty.”

“Umm…”

“Hey, I don’t question it. I just make sure they’re sparkling clean.”

I thread my fingers through his. “He’s not here. Besides, right now, I’m the boss, and I don’t care how clean the car is. Plus, we’re going to drive it to yours.”

“We are?”

“Yes.”

“You’re the boss. Whatever you say goes.” He winks.

“We can worry about getting it cleaned after Christmas.”

He does a mock salute with his free hand. “Yes, boss.”

The building Elevated is in is locked and dark. Luckily, I have a key and know the alarm code. I let us in, turn off the alarm, and lock the door behind us. We make our way to the first floor, where I unlock the door to our office space.

“It’s weird being here when it’s empty,” Rowan whispers.

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because it’s so quiet.”

I shake my head and roll my eyes. “This way.”

I lead him to the storeroom, which also requires unlocking. Our stock is heavily depleted, thanks to the Christmas rush, but there’s enough.

I brush my lips over his ear. “Pick something, boy.”

“For what?”

“Your Christmas present.”

He gasps. “My?—?”