Page 2 of Bred By Dad’s Boss (Bred By A Daddy)
Ivy
A month before graduation, dad was diagnosed with arterial blockage, so he’s been on a special diet that isn’t available at the office cafeteria. I’ve been bringing his lunch every day since graduation, secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of Mr. Slater.
Walking into the office building, I feel eyes on me, watching but not threatening.
It’s the same feeling I had when I walked across the stage and received my high school diploma last week.
The same feeling I get when I go out with my friends, to the mall, or take Pudge, my Pug, for a walk around the neighborhood.
But, like all the other times, I don’t actually see anyone watching me.
Calling the elevator, I take my phone out of my pocket, scrolling through social media waiting for it to arrive.
When a ding announces its arrival, I enter and push the button for my dad’s floor, laughing at a video of a parrot saying fuck you on repeat.
When the elevator stops and the door opens, I walk out of the car and straight into a solid wall of warm muscle, falling toward the floor when a strong hand grabs my arm and pulls me against him.
I look up with a gasped apology, my eyes going wide at the gorgeous man in front of me, muscles on display in a tantalizing form-fitting suit.
As our eyes meet, I can’t help wondering if I’ll ever get used to the sight of my father’s boss.
Darius Slater is the type of man who owns every room he walks into, a true alpha.
It’s impossible to not be affected by his magnetic presence.
His features are perfectly cut, reminiscent of a Greek statue, his bulging muscles immediately making me feel safe.
His dark, wavy hair is slicked back, dark beard closely trimmed, giving him a distinguished air.
Fine streaks of silver starting at his temples are the only sign of his age.
I feel an urge to run my hands through it to see him messy.
I’ve secretly lusted after him since the first time I saw him two years ago, my obsession only growing stronger since officially meeting him at family day, knowing nothing would, or ever could, come from my crush.
“I’ve got you, Ivy.” His words are a low growl, immediately making my core tingle with desire. His eyes flare with heat when a soft moan escapes my lips. He continues to hold me close to his body, making it difficult for me to separate reality from the fantasies I’ve had about him.
“I-I’m so sorry, Mr. Slater,” I stammer, moving in his arms, trying to move away from him before my body betrays me.
“I-I think I’m okay now.” His arms relax around me, still holding me, but allowing me to step back enough to search the floor for the bag I had been holding.
Seeing it beside us, I leave his arms, bending to grab it, and hear a hiss behind me, feeling my short skirt rising before I can straighten up.
“Than-“ standing, ready to thank Mr. Slater for his assistance, my voice trails off at his quickly retreating back. My brow furrows, wondering what I did wrong to send him scurrying down the hallway. Running through the events of the past few minutes, I make my way carefully to dad’s office.
“There’s my girl,” he says as I knock on his door and walk into his office without an invitation. I sit in the hard chair across from his messy desk, cringing as he spreads his lunch over unorganized stacks of paper, and begins to eat quickly. “Mmm, this is delicious, Ivy,” he says between bites.
On my way out of his office, the feeling of being watched returns.
I glance around looking for eyes on me, secretly hoping it’s Mr. Slater, but, like usual, I don’t see anyone.
A messy boy pushing a cart of mail is walking down the hallway coming toward me.
I offer a friendly smile and he pushes the cart in front of me, cutting off my escape.
“Hi, I’m Jimmy. And who might you be?” He asks with a nod of his jaw, his unpleasant brown eyes raking over my body.
“I’m Ivy,” I answer flatly, trying to be pleasant without inviting his attention. “And I’m just on my way out. Excuse me.” I try to walk past, but he steps in my way, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder.
“I haven’t seen you around here before. You’re hot. You wanna go out sometime?” His question isn’t uncommon, I get asked out a lot, and I always turn them down, waiting for someone else, as improbable as it may be.