Page 15 of Daring Wicked Love (Wicked Dade #2)

“We have a concern with Impact Advertising down in New York , ” Jeffery’s voice droned on. “Kilroy has found himself in some hot water with some unsavory characters. Insider information is pointing at the feds getting involved and ruining him.”

“What is the timeline we are looking at right now?” Rebecca, my C.O.O., tapped her pen on her notebook. “We can pull the contract before the news breaks, if we have time. I am sure I can have legal find a loophole to get us out without concern.”

Jeffery sifted through a couple pieces of paper. “We’re talking maybe six months at a push, but honestly, I am not sure.”

Normally, board meetings were a walk in the park.

Years of sitting in on them, usually tucked into the back with my laptop open and working on other things while the others talked, I had become a pro at them.

But not today.

Penelope hadn’t arrived home as I was leaving for work, unable to delay the meeting due to it being an impromptu emergency regarding one of our largest advertisers.

If Jaxon had bothered to stick around, he could have saved me the hassle, but the selfish batard left me to balance it all on my shoulders so he could go and play with motorbikes.

Mercifully, Orla texted me as soon as Hank drove into the driveway with a very tired Penelope.

“What do you think, sir?” Jeffery cut through my thoughts.

I exhaled heavily, tension steamrolling down my spine. “Options.”

Jeffery looked between me and Rebecca. “Um… I… Do you mean…” He cleared his throat several times, opening and closing his mouth like a brain-dead goldfish.

Fucking hell, have mercy.

“I’m sorry, forgive me, but I don’t think I understand what you’re saying.” Jeffery tripped over his words. “Options?”

I’d excuse this sort of bullshit if he were new, but he’d been working for the company for nearly six years.

Obviously, he was Jaxon’s hire, because I wouldn’t have wasted a single breath on someone this stupid.

“Options,” I snapped. “What are our fucking options?”

Rebecca stopped tapping her pen and dropped her gaze.

“Oh, right of course,” he stumbled, spinning his laptop screen around for me to see. “Either do Rebecca’s plan, which involves finding a loophole out of the contract now before the law is involved and possibly losing all the money we’ve paid them.”

“Or we wait,” Rebecca stepped in. “Waiting means we don’t need to wait to get out of the contract and risk them attempting to sue. As soon as the American Federal Government is involved, we can end it without qualms.”

I clicked my tongue against the back of my teeth. “But?”

“But,” she continued, “we’d have to cut out losses. No money will be released the second the government gets their hands on it. It’ll be collateral for whatever Kilroy is mixed up in.”

It was seemingly impossible to find an ounce of care for the problem, not when my mind was on other matters.

I wanted to be at home.

I wanted to see my daughter with my own two eyes, to feel her in my arms, and chase away the sleepless night, worrying that Maura had run away with her.

Fuck Kilroy and Impact Advertising. The man was handed that business after his mother’s sudden death. It was the elite of the elite in the advertising industry.

And he flushed it down the toilet for what? His next fucking high and horse-racing ticket.

His entire mother’s legacy was about to disappear.

Hopefully, the FBI would take everything and leave him in ruins or, preferably, in a barred cell.

“Contact legal and Ryans,” I said to Rebecca, gathering my stuff. “Keep me updated.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied. “I’ll have their answer and plan for you by the end of the day.”

Not bothering to look back, I walked out the door and headed straight for the elevator. Firing off an email to Isaac, I told him to ensure I wasn’t disturbed for the remainder of the day.

No emails. No phone calls. No distractions.

Walking through the front door, I paced into the kitchen. The quietness of the house threatened to noose itself tightly around my throat.

Out in the garden, everything inside me stilled. The worry trying to drown me ceased, the inner voice screaming at me went mute the second I spotted Orla sitting on the grass with a sketchbook open on her lap.

She wore a pair of floral stitched denim shorts that showcased her peachy legs and curved around her thighs.

The plain white T-shirt was a stark comparison to her usual colorful clothing. My eyes were drawn, like a pair of magnets, to her peeked nipples pushing against the thin cotton material.

With her sunshine hair twisted into a braid away from her face, it allowed the full force of her natural beauty to come through.

I was a man under a spell, unable to look away.

My heart stuttered — fucking stuttered — when she looked up and greeted me with a grin.

“Playing hooky from work, I see,” she said, standing up and making her way toward me. “Pen is having a much-needed nap. We had some breakfast when she came home, and then I sent her to bed. Poor thing was nearly asleep in her cereal. She should be awake soon.”

I swallowed against the dryness in my throat.

Orla tilted her head, her hand reaching to rest on my bicep. “She’s home, Fred.”

She’s okay. She’s here. She’s home.

The heat from Orla’s palm seeped through my sleeve, searing into my flesh, and although I knew it was wrong, I couldn’t stop myself from placing my own hand on hers.

Her skin was as soft as I imagined.

She inhaled sharply as her slight fingers melted into the gaps between mine. Grey hues locked with mine, the corners softening and sparkling into life. Merde, I tried not to lose myself in the depths of them even though I wanted nothing more than to dive headfirst into her.

She was too good. Too innocent. Too fucking pure for my toxic baggage.

Not to mention that I was her boss and ten years older than she was.

I was the first to pull away. “I’m going to go and check on her.”

Orla nodded, taking a step back and stealing the scent of her perfume from under my nose. “Coolio.” Her lips pressed into a thin smile. “Do you mind waking her if she is still asleep?”

“She needs her sleep.”

“She’ll be upset if she misses the trip to Wayline Bay this afternoon. I promised her we would go.”

“You can go there another day,” I said. “I have no doubt Maura let her stay up past bedtime last night.”

My ex-wife was never one for rules, especially when it came to parenting rules.

I mean, it’s no surprise, considering she couldn’t even stick to our wedding vows for crying out loud.

Orla exhaled slowly. “There’s a music event on, one day only sort of thing. We saw the poster at the swimming pool, and Penelope wants to go. I told her we’d go once she woke up from her nap.”

“ Bien s?r que vous l’avez fait .” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fine. She can sleep in the car on the way down.”

“I’ll grab a bag and let Hank know the plans.”

“There’s no need for Hank,” I said bluntly. “We’ll take my car.”

Orla blinked twice, the fingers that were on me only minutes ago flexed. “You want to come with us?”

There were definitely better ways I could have spent my day.

Like taking Penelope to Wayline Bay by myself. Just me and her. But I knew she’d want Orla there, and secretly, a not-so-quiet part of me wanted her there too.

So, I chose to submit myself to the torture of a two-hour drive to the beach with Orla.

“We leave in thirty,” I said. “Make sure you’re ready.”

Arriving at Wayline Bay, I didn’t know what to expect. But I sure as shit did not expect to be walking into a somewhat, and albeit less drug infused, family friendly Woodstock Festival.

The entire beachfront had been transformed, with several stages erected to accommodate different bands performing. People from all walks of life, mainly families, surrounded the area, taking in the music and entertainment on and off the stages.

Stilt walkers, fire-breathers, jugglers, face painters — the whole works.

The look in both Penelope’s and Orla’s eyes when we arrived was worth the tiresome and long silent car ride.

Penelope thankfully slept the entire journey, while Orla also sat in the back seat with her headphones plugged in, listening to an audiobook.

Between the deafening silence and stopping myself from stealing glances at the blonde, blushing to herself in my rearview mirror, the journey had taken its toll.

I was going to need a serious session with a masseuse to relieve the tension building in my neck, or better yet, the hands of a certain pixie on my skin would work wonders.

Stop it, those thoughts are anything but productive...

Watching the two of them point at everything they saw, the excitement sparking to life in Penelope, I suddenly wasn’t too concerned about the long drive home anymore.

“You two go and sus the place out.” Orla grinned, taking the picnic basket out of my hand. “I’m going to go and find us a good spot near the main stage.”

“Do you think they have caramel apples?” Penelope’s bright eyes widened. “Or maybe they’ll have corndogs?”

Picking her up off the ground, I set her on my shoulders, and her small hands found their way into my hair. “Only one way to find out.”

“Enjoy you two.” Orla said, already walking down onto the sandy beach. “And don’t you dare come back without those caramel apples.”

We were off like a gunshot, making our way through the sea of people.

Laughter, music, and children’s squeals of sheer joy filled the warm afternoon. Vendors had set up stalls selling everything from homemade fudge to hand-stitched socks.

It was the perfect place to forget about everything and just be present in the moment.

Somehow, I was swindled into not just a caramel apple, but also a bag of toffee popcorn, three corndogs, a banana milkshake, and, of course, face painting.

I did, however, draw the line when Penelope tried to have us get matching butterfly designs that took up our whole faces.

But, because I was a sucker when it came to my daughter, I allowed the face painter to paint a small butterfly on my left cheek.

If anyone in my life saw me now, they’d think I was having a mental crisis.

But in fact, it was the happiest I’d been in a long time.

No work, no Maura, no brother drama or guilt.

Just me, Pen, and her nanny, who doubled over with laughter when she saw the bright pink butterfly on my cheek as I sat down on the blanket beside her

“It suits you, right down to the color,” she toyed, a mischievous glint in her eye as she turned to Penelope, who was enthralled with the country singer on stage. “Your daddy looks like a princess now. A butterfly princess. He can join our princess gang.”

“Hilarious,” I said deadpan.

“Where’s your tiara? No princess is complete without their tiara.”

My eyes narrowed.

“Oh, and don’t forget a nice sparkly tutu. A bright pink one to match your butterfly. Then you’ll be the prettiest princess of them all.”

“You know something?” I muttered quietly for just her ears. “Someone ought to teach you not to be such a brat.”

Triumph mixed with something too close to lust shot through me when her cheeks flushed, and her teeth sank into her full bottom lip.

The same lips that would look divine wrapped around my cock as she gagged on me, spit dripping from the corners of her mouth, the hum of her moans vibrating along my shaft.

Fucking hell, how was it possible for one woman to affect me so severely?

Leaning toward her, my blood pumping faster when her breath hitched, I grabbed the corndog from her hand and took an oversized bite.

“How dare you!” Orla gasped, blinking whatever thoughts she had away. “That’s mine!”

Penelope covered her mouth in horror. “You can have some of mine, Orla.” She offered her untouched corndog. “My tummy is too full after all the popcorn.”

Orla smiled at Penelope. “At least someone in this family has manners. Thank you, Pen, but we will wrap yours up in case you get hungry on the drive home.” She turned her attention back to me. “You could learn a thing or two from your child.”

I smirked. “Or maybe you need to be taught a thing or two.”

Her eyes widened, her cheeks fully alight, as we stared at each other.

Could she feel it too? The electric charge crackling between us? The way she kept looking at my mouth, her chest rising and falling that bit quicker, it couldn’t just be me.

I barely remembered the last time I felt this way, and I was concerned it wasn’t just because of my achingly long dry spell.

“A picture of the happy family?”

In unison, we turned to the woman standing with a digital camera pointed directly toward us.

“It’s for the local paper,” the photographer said. “We’re covering the event today. Would you like your photo in the newspaper, sweetie?”

“Yes, please,” Penelope answered, jumping between me and Orla. She snuggled in close, her head resting right where my heart struggled to maintain a steady rhythm. “Move closer, Orla.”

Orla tried to get up from the blanket. “Oh no, that’s alright — you see the thing is I’m not actually…”

I silenced her by reaching over and wrapping my arm around her waist. Her spine straightened, her entire body made of marble as I pulled her into us.

“Okay, Mom and Dad, big smiles for me.” The photographer held up the camera. “That’s a perfect shot! My, what a beautiful family you all are.”

There were a thousand and one reasons why I should have let Orla walk away, but none of those mattered as she slowly rested her head on my shoulder and the two of us cuddled into Penelope.

Bright lights from the flash blinded me, and for the briefest of seconds, I played pretend.

I pretended I wasn’t fighting for my life to keep my daughter.

I pretended I wasn’t too emotionally scarred from my failed marriage to ever look at love the same way again.

I pretended Orla was more than our nanny — and that I wasn’t just at risk of losing Penelope but losing her too if Maura won.

And when the photographer turned her camera to show us the photo, I wished there was a life that I didn’t have to play pretend anymore.