Page 8 of Daring Wicked Love (Wicked Dade #2)

“The company is yours,” Jaxon announced as he signed the dotted line. “Every last share is in your name, just how you wanted it.”

If Jaxon wanted to leave, then so be it. He wasn’t going to have access to a single share that connected him to the company he was abandoning, and that was entirely his own doing.

He wanted out. I was giving him exactly what he wanted.

Even if it wasn’t what I really wanted.

I signed the line beneath my brother’s signature. “Drop that down to legal on your way out.”

“Fine.” His jaw twitched as his molars crunched together. “PR is releasing the statement of my departure this morning. The board has already signed off on it. I’ll warn you, they are questioning how things are going to proceed from here on out.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and solely focused on the laptop before me.

Board members, although not willing to outwardly voice their concerns with Jaxon’s departure, were incredibly interested in meeting with me and trying to understand why my brother had decided to relinquish all control to me.

And that was just the members of the board. I hadn’t dared to open a single email from our top clients and investors, who had been tipped off about the company losing one brother.

“Is there anything else you need from me?”

I scoffed. “You’ve done enough, don’t you think?”

A low growl gathered in Jaxon’s throat as he adjusted the sleeve of his coat. “I see. Then I guess this is it, frère a?né. ”

What did he want, a fucking hug?

This was his decision. His doing. His mistake to make.

I didn’t move from my seat, eyes locked on the blaring screen while attempting to read the same first line of my email.

Mercifully, Jaxon took the hint.

We were never the affectionate sort of siblings — once upon a time, before our maman passed, we acted like real brothers, the type who hugged and enjoyed being around each other, but the poisonous bite of grief and rage twisted us into something I no longer recognized.

Watching Jaxon walk out of my office from the corner of my eye, I tried to ignore the piercing pain radiating through the back of my head.

This day was shaping up to be as shit as I expected.

I had already awoken with a headache that could have knocked out a rhino. Orla’s words replaying on repeat the entire night robbed me of any sleep.

It wasn’t just the talk about her underwear that threw me off balance and sent my thoughts spiraling, imagining how magnifique she would look lying on the picnic blanket completely naked, covered in glitter, and spread open, ready for me — dangerous thoughts I had no right thinking about.

Orla wasn’t the type of woman I was usually attracted to. In fact, she was the very opposite. Naturally blonde, ten years my junior, and a sunny disposition that rivalled a freaking Disney cartoon princess.

I blamed it on the long day of talking to my lawyer about the upcoming custody hearing, and my now two-year dry spell. It had nothing to do with seeing her with Penelope, the pair of them doused in glitter and wearing plastic crowns, causing my racing mind to finally slow down.

Orla said she wanted my respect and trust. Something I believed should be earned, not just handed out like pieces of candy.

However, she was right about one thing. I ultimately made the decision to hire her, and although her forever-positive attitude and incessant talking were like nails on a chalkboard to me, I needed to accept that she was part of my life for now.

Checking my phone, I logged into the security camera above the front door of my house. Unease worked itself between my ribs. It had gone off nearly an hour ago, alerting me that Orla and Penelope had left, and they still hadn’t returned.

Pressing the green call button, I glanced back at the new onslaught of emails arriving in my inbox.

Orla answered after two rings. “Good morning! What do I owe the pleasure?”

“Where are you?” It’s like I couldn’t help myself. The second I heard her light and bubbly voice, the bluntness oozed out of me like a weeping sore. “You’ve been gone for over an hour.”

“Hello to you, too,” she said. “Have you resorted to spying on me now? Is that how you really knew all those things about me? You don’t really give the stalker-type vibes, then again, it’s the perfect cover.”

“There’s a camera at the front door,” I stated, pinching the bridge of my nose. “A simple safety precaution.”

“Whatever you say.” She chuckled. “We’ve just arrived at the local swimming pool.”

“Why are you there?”

“To catch some fish.” Orla teased. “Why do you think we are at the swimming pool? I’ll give you three guesses, and if you lose, you owe me a hot chocolate.”

Merde, how could one person be so happy and cheerful all the time?

“You do realize there is a swimming pool at the house?” I said calmly, despite the ache building in my jaw. “So you can understand my confusion as to why you would take Penelope to a center when there is a perfectly good private one in the garden.”

“Have you looked at that pool?” Orla asked. “The water needs to be treated, it’s radioactive green. I’m pretty sure the finger I dipped into it is going to grow an extra nail overnight. Plus, not to mention it was colder than the Arctic Circle. The heating switch is broken.”

Another issue to add to my growing list of problems.

“I’ll arrange for someone to fix and clean it this week.” I deleted an email from my youngest brother, Olivier, inviting me to some art event in New York. “Is Penelope okay?”

“She’s great. She is super excited to show me how good she is at swimming.”

“She’s never had swimming lessons.”

“Don’t worry, I brought her swim-vest with me.”

“Good.”

“It’s your daddy on the phone,” Orla said to Penelope.

I didn’t want to admit how the very word daddy rolling off her tongue sent a surge straight through my body into my crotch.

What the fuck was wrong with me ? “He’s at work right now, but I’m sure he’d love to come swimming with us another time. ”

I could physically picture my daughter’s face. The drop in her smile and the little flicker of light in her eyes dimming just enough to twist my heart until my chest ached.

This was meant to be my time with her, my time to prove to her that I was the father she deserved.

Because what if Maura won, and I lost her for good?

“We better get going.” Orla directed her attention back to me. “If it puts your mind at ease, I will text you when we are on our way back to the house?”

“Wait.” The word was out before I could stop it. I slammed my laptop shut. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Not giving Orla time to respond, I was out of Dade Diamonds and in my black Audi RS6 before anyone got in my way.

Fuck the meetings with the board. The company was going to stay the same with or without Jaxon, and I didn’t need to sit in a stuffy boardroom explaining that to a bunch of batards who only cared about lining their pockets with as much money as they could.

By the time I arrived, Orla and Penelope were already in the pool, the pair completely oblivious to me as I took a seat on the poolside bench.

I wasn’t a stupid man. I knew Penelope didn’t have the healthiest relationship with her mother; after all, Maura made it difficult for anyone to get beneath her plastic exterior, including her own flesh and blood.

For Christ’s sake, she wanted to move Penelope, a five-year-old child, to a new country and send her straight to a boarding school — out of sight, out of mind.

But watching Penelope jump into the pool, straight into Orla’s outstretched arms, it hit me how starved my daughter was for a present and willing maternal figure.

“Do you see who I see?” Orla’s voice carried across the water. “Looks like your daddy is going to join us for a swim after all.”

My daughter paddled as fast as her little legs could carry her. “You came!”

I swallowed the bitter taste of guilt. “Of course I did, mon petit soleil. I didn’t want to miss seeing you swim.”

“Did you bring your stuff?”

“What stuff?”

“You can’t swim in your work clothes, silly.”

“She’s right,” Orla chimed in, swimming up to me. “I think they have a rule about swimming in a shirt and tie.”

“I came so I could watch you swim. I’ll have to go back to work, and like you said, I don’t have anything to swim in,” I explained to Penelope. “When we get the pool at the house fixed, then we can go for a swim together, how about that?”

She pouted as she nodded slowly. “Oh, okay.”

Great, looks like I wasn’t winning the Dad of the Year award anytime soon.

My collar tightened around my neck as Orla took it upon herself to distract Penelope by challenging her to swim to the other side of the pool as fast as she could.

As Penelope took off, Orla turned her attention back to me. “There’s a pair of swimming trunks in my backpack.”

“Why do you have a pair of trunks in your backpack?”

Orla shrugged, droplets of water sliding off her collarbone and down onto the peaks of her breasts. “I packed for every eventuality.” She laughed as I cocked an eyebrow. “What? Okay, fine, you caught me. It’s your backpack.”

“You took my backpack?”

“I couldn’t find mine in my unpacked boxes. I only noticed your trunks were at the bottom when I was in the changing room.”

“Convenient.” I tried to keep my eyes on Penelope and not on the wetness of Orla’s lips. “I wasn’t joking, I need to go back to the office at some point.”

“Weird, I thought people who run their own company could work whenever they wanted.”

“It’s not that simple.”

She shrugged. “If you say so. But if you change your mind and want the afternoon off, I can certainly give you the key to the locker. I know it would make her day if you got in, even for a little bit.”

Hook, line, and fucking sinker.

Because although I had the utmost confidence in my lawyer, I couldn’t shake off the little voice in the background that wiggled into every thought — what if these were my last days with her?

“Give me the key.” I stood from the bench, rolling my eyes as Orla pumped her fist in the air with triumph. “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

“Hold your horses.” She swam to the edge and pulled herself out of the water. “The key is tied around my ankle.”

Nothing in this world or the next prepared me for seeing Orla soaking wet and in a bathing suit.

The very moisture in my mouth vanished as my eyes devoured every fucking inch of her. I couldn’t help myself, my mind short-circuiting like a prepubescent boy as she walked toward me.

The swimsuit was nothing special, but on her? Seigneur, aie pitié.

The wet material clung to every curve and dip of her body, giving her the perfect hourglass silhouette. Perfect hand-full sized breasts, curved hips, full bitable thighs — my eyes couldn’t absorb it all at once.

I was a man hypnotized.

When she bent down to get the key, my hands curled into tight fists. She was too close, the mixture of chlorine and daisies assaulting my senses.

Strands of blonde hair stuck to the column of her throat, water cascading down her slender neck and disappearing down the gap between her breasts.

My traitorous mind pictured tracking the droplets down to her budding nipples with my tongue.

“Here you go.” Orla moved closer and handed me the locker key, a quizzical look upon her face. “Are you okay? You’re a bit pale.”

No.

I snatched the key quickly. “I’m fine. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”

Taking off before she could speak, I stalked back into the changing rooms and told myself that everything I was feeling was nothing to be concerned about.

Especially the heavy swelling in my cock.

Physical attraction was normal after all.

It didn’t matter that it was to the woman I fucking paid to look after my daughter, the one woman who was beyond off-limits and who irritated the life out of me, because it was just human nature.

Nothing more than a biological response, right?