Page 19 of Double Daddies (Dirty Daddies Anthologies #8)
Chapter Six
Double D Acquisition Headquarters, The Williams Tower
Elle
The penthouse office sprawled across one corner of the top floor.
Its opulence was striking even through Elle’s fear-clouded vision.
Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around three sides, offering a panoramic view of Houston’s glittering nightscape.
The helicopter pad, her crime scene, stood visible from this vantage point.
The pink-and-silver paint looked garish even from way up here.
She quickly stepped back from the window as Drake released her elbow. He strode toward a black marble wet bar that dominated one corner. Damian moved to the opposite side of the room, leaving Elle standing awkwardly in the center. She felt small against the backdrop of power and wealth.
Dark hardwood floors were partially covered by thick Persian rugs in deep shades of gold and bronze. Two massive mahogany desks faced each other at opposite ends of the space, each bearing sleek laptops and minimal decorations. The symmetry spoke of two men used to sharing power equally.
A sitting area occupied the center of the room, featuring black leather couches and chrome-accented furniture arranged around a glass coffee table. Modern art pieces in stark black and gold adorned the walls. Their abstract forms somehow added to the intimidating atmosphere.
The lighting was subtle but effective, creating pools of warmth in strategic areas while leaving others in shadow. The overall effect was one of calculated luxury, chosen to project power and control.
Elle glanced down at her paint-stained hands and clothes, painfully aware of how out of place she looked in this pristine environment. She winced as she watched pink paint dripping onto the expensive flooring. Each drop felt like another nail in her coffin.
“Sit.” Drake’s command echoed through the space as he gestured toward one of the leather couches.
“I’ve got wet paint all?—”
“Sit, Elle.”
Trembling at the dark warning in his voice, she sank into the soft leather, beyond protesting or trying to explain. From this position, both men towered over her.
“Just don’t add damaging your leather couch to my list of crimes,” she said under her voice.
With a grunt, Drake poured three fingers of amber liquid into two crystal tumblers while Damian remained standing with his arms crossed, staring out the window at her artistic destruction below.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Drake’s voice was deceptively calm as he handed Damian his drink and turned to face her.
Elle’s throat went dry. “I?—”
“That helicopter,” Damian cut in, still focused on the brightly painted chopper below, “cost twenty-five million dollars.”
The room spun slightly. Elle gripped the leather cushion to steady herself. Twenty-five million! She had defaced twenty-five million dollars worth of aircraft with pink paint and pastry doodles. Pink fucking donuts!
“The repainting alone will cost six figures.” Drake moved closer, looming over her. “Not to mention the specialized cleaning needed and repainting of the helipad. You’ve managed to create quite an expensive tantrum, Miss Fitzgerald.”
“I’ll pay—” Elle started, then stopped herself. The absurdity of that offer hung in the air.
“With what money?” Damian finally turned. His expression remained unreadable. “The bakery you’re losing?”
Elle flinched. “I know it was stupid and irresponsible, but I was angry and hurt and?—”
“And decided criminal damage was the appropriate response?” Drake took a slow sip of his whiskey. “Tell me, what would you do if we decide to call the police and press charges?”
Tears burned behind her eyes. “Please don’t.”
“Please don’t what?” Damian moved to stand beside Drake. “Don’t have you arrested? Don’t press charges that could land you in prison? Don’t destroy your future the way you just destroyed our property?”
Elle’s hands trembled in her lap. She noticed in passing how the dried pink paint was flaking off her skin.
“I’ll do anything,” she whispered. “Please, just... I can’t go to jail.”
The men exchanged a look that made her stomach flip.
“Anything?” Drake set his glass down with deliberate slowness. “That’s quite an offer, little baker.”
The way he said ‘little baker’ sent shivers down her spine. To her surprise, even despite her fear, they were not entirely unpleasant ones.
“Perhaps,”—Damian’s voice dropped lower—“we should discuss that proposal we offered now. Though I daresay Drake has changed the terms significantly since your... artistic expression.”
Elle swallowed hard, looking between the two powerful men. Whatever they had planned for her, she had a feeling her life was about to change dramatically.
“I’m listening.” Elle wanted nothing more than to jump up and run, but she knew she was caught in a prison of her own making.
“We need a break from a very hectic schedule and have decided to take a short three-month sabbatical on a private island we own in the Caribbean. You will join us and live with us as our Little.”
“As your what ?”
Double D Acquisition Headquarters, The Williams Tower
Drake and Damian
“Our Little.” Drake savored her confusion as he watched the word settle like a puzzle she couldn’t solve. “Our babygirl, to be precise, who we’ll protect, care for, and nurture.”
Her bewilderment pleased him deeply. Her innocence about their lifestyle meant they could shape her understanding and mold her responses exactly as they wished.
The three-month timeline was merely a formality since they intended to create bonds that would make her unable to imagine life without them.
Damian observed her with compassion, but dark anticipation gleamed in his eyes as her confusion deepened. Though his approach was gentler than Drake’s, his intentions were equally absolute.
“Are you talking about some kind of... dominance and submission?” Elle’s voice wavered with uncertainty.
“You could say that falls under the general umbrella,” Drake replied smoothly, his lips curling into a knowing smile.
Elle’s gaze darted between them in clear disbelief. “Your babygirl? Your Little ?” Licking her lips, she gestured toward Drake’s tumbler. “I need one of those.”
Drake complied and handed her a crystal glass. Grabbing it, she immediately took a generous sip.
“For three months,” he continued, “we’ll manage everything. We’ll take care of all your desires and needs. You’ll be our special Little girl. You’ll have nothing to think about, have no stress, no responsibilities, or the need to make any decisions.”
Her eyes widened to saucers. The amber liquid sloshed over the rim as she trembled violently. “You can’t be serious.”
Their shared glance held triumph as her disbelief registered. Drake stepped closer and said in a firm voice, “You have two choices, Elle. Accept our proposal, or face felony charges for criminal damage.”
A small whimper escaped her. “I can’t just leave for three months. What about Elle’s... my employees…”
Damian produced a thick document that he placed on the coffee table in front of her.
“This contract outlines everything—the terms and our requirements of your stay, confidentiality agreements, and…”—he flipped to the last page—“our proposal regarding Elle’s Delicacies.”
Elle stared at the contract as if it might bite her. Beneath the downlights, the paleness of her face must surely make her look like a ghost.
The power they held over her future was absolute, and they both knew it. Her only choice was to surrender to their protection or face the destruction of her own making.
Elle might not realize it yet, but vandalizing their property had robbed her of the luxury of choice.
“I… I need time to think about this,” she whispered as she paged through the thick document, her eyes widening as she hesitated on certain paragraphs.
“We’ll give you thirty minutes to read through the contract and make a decision.
I’m afraid we can’t allow you to take it with you.
Either you agree and sign the contract right here and now, or we lay a criminal charge within forty minutes.
” Drake’s eyes darkened. “Unfortunately, Elle, your choices are limited… all by your own doing. Our initial proposal was more… shall we say… lenient. Now… you have thirty minutes.”
“What if I can’t agree to certain terms?”
“That is one of the aspects that changed with your recent actions. Make no mistake, Elle, this isn’t a negotiation.
That is the contract with set terms and conditions.
The only concessions we will make in the future will be based on your own actions once you sign.
” Damian smiled broadly. “You can make your transition to our Little as difficult or as easy as you choose.”
“Damian is right, but know this… there will always be repercussions for unacceptable behavior.”
Elle lifted her eyes to look at him worryingly. “What kind of repercussions?”
“You’ll be punished, little vandal. The severity would depend on your actions.”
“Again,”—she glowered at him—“you cannot be serious.”
“Oh, believe him, babygirl. Drake takes caring for our Little in the appropriate manner very, very seriously.”