Page 1 of Bred By Dad’s Boss (Bred By A Daddy)
Darius
R unning my hand through my hair, mentally cursing my personal assistant, I can’t help but dream of petty retribution for this hell she’s designed for me.
I pride myself on being a fair boss. My company offers competitive benefits and vacation time and above industry standard salaries.
But apparently that’s not enough anymore.
Nope. Now we have to be social. Fucking family day.
I suppose it’s my fault, really. I told her to organize it and not bother me with any of the details, to just tell me when and where.
Fucking stupid. Now here I am, standing under a fucking balloon arch, holding a bottle of water I wish was a scotch on the rocks, greeting employees I barely even recognize.
Counting down the hours until I can make my escape from the frivolity and head back to my home office in my quiet penthouse, I check emails on my phone, barely hearing someone say my name.
I’m lost in an email, another fire I’ll have to put out when I’m able to actually get work done later today.
A throat clears, and I glance up, ready to tear the person a new one for daring to interrupt me.
A short, balding man with a pronounced paunch stands before me, a smile pasted on his face.
“Mr. Slater, sir. Ted Jensen.” He sticks his hand in my direction, but I just smile and nod.
His hand drops, and he moves aside. “Allow me to introduce my daughter, Ivy.”
My jaw clenches to stop a groan as I see a delicate blonde behind him, standing in front of me, looking down at her phone.
When she looks up at me with bright, ice blue eyes, she gasps and my fist clenches to keep from reaching out for her, taking her to the nearest bed and fucking her raw.
She’s fucking perfect. “Ivy, this is my boss…”
“Darius Slater,” I interrupt, wanting her to hear my name from my own lips.
I thrust my hand out to her, anxious to feel her soft skin against my palm.
After a moment, her hand disappears into mine, my fingers closing around her wrist, feeling her pulse accelerate.
She stares up at me, her full lips parted, breathing shallowly.
“Well, we better be going,” Ted’s annoying voice interrupts our hungry exchange. “I want to introduce Ivy to some of the team.” I can’t stop the growl that escapes me when Ted’s hand comes to rest on Ivy’s slender shoulder and I see his fingers flex. He quickly drops his arm and turns to walk away.
“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Slater,” Ivy says quietly, turning to follow her father, her fingers sliding through mine until the heat of her hand is a ghost on my palm.
The rest of the day flies by, employees introducing themselves frequently, names forgotten before they saunter off to talk to coworkers.
I make sure to always keep one eye on Ivy.
I move closer to her a few times, listening to her conversations with kids her age.
Fuck. Kids her age? How old is she? Is she legal?
Do I even care at this point? I fucking need her. I want to learn everything about her.
In my thirty-eight years I’ve never allowed myself to need anyone; growing up in foster care cemented my independent nature early on.
I like my solitude, and never really considered having a family.
I have a list of women who know the deal that I can call when I need a release, but even they haven’t been necessary lately.
And they never will be again. Not now that I’ve found Ivy.
She will be mine. No matter what it takes.