Page 25 of Bosshole Daddy

When plates were empty, we moved together to clear the table.

He washed while I dried, our movements synchronized through repetition.

Such a simple thing, doing dishes together, but it felt profound.

Three months ago, I'd been alone in my studio apartment, making a single bowl of ramen last two days.

Now I dried crystal wine glasses while discussing million-dollar charitable initiatives with my fiancé.

"I want to show you something after dinner," he said, and that particular note in his voice made my stomach flutter with recognition. The tone that preceded transitions, that marked the boundary between our public and private dynamics.

"A new stuffie came today," he continued, watching my face carefully. "A bunny. Bigger than your old one. I thought you might want to meet her."

The words were casual, but the weight behind them wasn't. My old bunny waited in the nursery, carefully placed among the growing collection of comfort items he'd selected.

This new addition meant something—another layer of care, another sign that he was still building our life together, still thinking of what his little one might need.

My body responded before my mind could catch up, that familiar warmth spreading through my core.

The space between my public self and my little self blurred, edges softening as I nodded.

"Yes, Daddy," I whispered, already slipping into that softer headspace where I didn't have to be the competent foundation director or the confident fiancée.

Where I could just be his little one, safe and small and held. "I'd like that very much."

His eyes darkened with satisfaction and something else—anticipation, maybe, or planning. He had that look that meant tonight would be special, that the new bunny was just the beginning of whatever he'd orchestrated.

"Good girl," he murmured, and those two words completed my transition. "Let's go see what Daddy found for you."

*

The private elevator descended with whispered efficiency, carrying us down to the secret heart of our life together.

My hand felt small in Damian's, fingers interlaced with the kind of casual intimacy that still made my chest tight with wonder.

I'd changed after dinner—soft pink pajamas covered in little clouds, nothing like the power dress I'd worn to battle Henderson.

The transformation always felt like shedding armor, like coming home to myself.

"Excited to meet your new friend?" Damian asked, thumb stroking over my knuckles in that soothing rhythm he knew calmed my nerves.

I nodded, already feeling younger with each floor we passed.

The nursery called to parts of me I'd hidden for so long, the little girl who'd whispered secrets to stuffed animals when the world got too big.

Now I had permission—more than permission, encouragement—to be that girl again whenever I needed.

The familiar hallway greeted us with its soft lighting and cream walls. Other doors lined the corridor—storage, Damian had said, though I suspected he had plans for those spaces too. He was always planning, always thinking ahead to what I might need before I knew to want it.

The nursery door opened to reveal my wonderland, and I gasped softly at the changes.

He'd been busy. A new bookshelf sat low against one wall, filled with picture books I recognized from childhood and others I'd never seen.

A playmat covered part of the floor, soft and inviting, with sensory toys scattered across its surface.

The closet door stood partly open, revealing hanging clothes in soft pastels—dresses and overalls and things that would make me feel perfectly small.

But my attention locked onto the rocking chair, where an enormous pink bunny waited with patient button eyes.

She was perfect—bigger than my old bunny, big enough to properly cuddle, with fur that looked impossibly soft and ears that flopped just right.

A silk bow around her neck matched the pink of my pajamas, because of course Damian had thought of that detail.

"Oh," I breathed, reverting to that younger voice that only emerged here, high and sweet and wondering. The sophisticated woman who'd managed million-dollar charitable funds vanished, replaced by someone simpler, truer. "She's beautiful, Daddy."

"Go say hello," he encouraged, releasing my hand with a gentle push toward the chair.

I practically skipped across the room, bare feet silent on plush carpet.

The bunny was even softer than she looked, fur like silk clouds under my eager hands.

I lifted her carefully—she had good weight, substantial enough to feel real when I hugged her.

Her head fit perfectly under my chin, and she smelled new but also somehow safe, like Damian had prepared her specially for me.

"Hi, bunny," I whispered, already making her real. "I'm Isla. I'm gonna take real good care of you, promise."

I turned back to Damian, clutching my new friend, and found him settled in the adult-sized armchair he'd had specially made.

He looked like a king on a throne, if kings wore charcoal slacks and watched their subjects with fond indulgence.

His arms opened in clear invitation, and I climbed into his lap without hesitation, bunny and all.

"What will you name her?" he asked once I'd gotten comfortable, my head on his shoulder, the bunny secured between us like a pink, fluffy chaperone.

I studied her seriously, this important decision requiring proper consideration. Names mattered. My old bunny was just Bunny, chosen when I was too young for creativity. But this one needed something special, something that meant something.

"Rosie," I decided after a long moment, fingers playing with the silk bow. "Like the roses you sent my office after you proposed. Remember?"

His arms tightened around me, and I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head. "I remember."

He studied me with those gray eyes that saw everything, then reached into his pocket with the hand not holding me steady. The new pacifier emerged like magic—prettier than my others, with a pearl-colored shield decorated with tiny gold stars.

"Want this, little one?"

"Please, Daddy." The words came out small, needy in a way that would have embarrassed me anywhere else. But here, need was allowed. Here, wanting things was safe.

He brought the pacifier to my lips, and I accepted it eagerly, the familiar weight settling on my tongue. The world immediately felt softer, edges blurring into watercolor gentleness. I made a contented sound around the shield, snuggling deeper into his embrace.

We rocked together in the chair he'd chosen specifically for this—wide enough for both of us, smooth motion that soothed something primal. Rosie the bunny got squished between us, but she didn't seem to mind. Good bunnies never minded cuddles.

His hand stroked my hair in long, hypnotic passes, fingers occasionally catching on the gold ribbon I still wore from this morning.

"My perfect little one," he murmured, voice rumbling through his chest where I pressed against him.

"So brave out there in the big world. So strong when you need to be.

But here, you can just be small. Just be mine. "

I nodded against his shoulder, pacifier bobbing with the movement.

This was the gift he'd given me—not just the nursery or the stuffies or the life of luxury, but permission to be all of myself.

The competent professional and the little girl who needed her Daddy.

The woman who could face down CFOs and the one who sucked on a pacifier while clutching a pink bunny named after roses and counted days.

Time went soft in the nursery. Maybe we rocked for minutes, maybe hours. He told me about finding Rosie, how he'd visited three specialty stores before locating one that met his standards. I made small sounds of interest around my paci, content to let his voice wash over me like warm bathwater.

"Are you happy?" he asked eventually, the question carrying more weight than its simplicity suggested.

I pulled out the pacifier to answer properly, though my words still came out little-voiced. "The happiest. Got Daddy and Rosie and my old Bunny and the whole world doesn't feel too big anymore."

"Good," he said, kissing my forehead with infinite tenderness. "Because Daddy's going to take care of you forever. Even when you're running foundation meetings and changing the world. Especially then. You'll always have this place to come back to."

I believed him. Believed in the nursery and the safety and the love that transformed corporate contracts into fairy tale endings. The scared girl who'd walked into Stone Enterprises clutching a folder like a shield had found more than a job. She'd found home.

"Love you, Daddy," I whispered, already reaching for the pacifier again.

"Love you too, little one. More than all the roses in Manhattan."

We stayed there rocking while the LED window painted us in perpetual golden hour, a CEO and his little one and a pink bunny named for the beginning of everything.

Perfect in our strange configuration. Safe in our secret space.

Eternal in this moment between who we were in the world and who we were to each other.

*

Back upstairs, the dynamic shifted like light through a prism—same source, different angles, equally beautiful.

I stood before him in our bedroom, pacifier replaced by hungry kisses that tasted of promises and possession.

The little clothes were gone, left folded in the nursery for next time, replaced by black lace he'd laid out on our bed while I'd been in the shower.

"You were so good today," he praised between kisses, hands skimming my curves with proprietary touch. "Standing up to Henderson. Leading that foundation meeting. My perfect girl, so strong and capable."