Page 16 of Single Daddy To Go

He grins knowingly.

“For what? I invited you here. I bought you those drinks. Don’t get weird about it. Aren’t boys supposed to be the weird ones?”

I smile despite myself. “I thinkeverybody’sweird sometimes. Life’s just... strange, you know? Even when you think you get it, it seems like it’s going to go one kind of way, but then it goes another kind of way altogether.”

He nods, digesting the thought. I watch his brow knit. “Yeah, that’s what makes life so wonderful. The unexpected. Life’s an adventure.”

I smile wanly. “I don’t know if what I’m saying even makes sense. I’m kind of, uh, drunk right now,” I stammer. “I’m having a really good time though.”

But the truth is that I’ve sobered up now that the cold night air is blowing on my face. It was cramped and loud in the bar, but being out on the streets of New York has helped me regain my equilibrium. Plus, to be frank, it’s also my extra padding. I’m no lightweight like those tiny girls. Instead, the alcohol metabolizes quickly and now, I’m stone-cold sober.

He smiles. “You’re making plenty of sense. Maybe you’d like to go back to my place for some coffee?”

Squinting my eyes a little, I eye the billionaire. I’m not feeling up to a long walk. “Where do you live?”

The gleam in his blue eyes deepens. “Across the street, actually,” he says, and then points at a tall building across from the bar. Concrete and steel, with a green and gray awning out front, it’s a building as imposing as the man standing next to me.

I’m neither too drunk nor too naive to know what going to a man’s apartment means, whatever excuses either of us may make for it. If he was any other man, I’d say no, and call a cab. Even with my college boyfriend, Daniel, I waited four dates before I gave it up. But Rob Lockhartisn’tjust any other man, and I can’t resist. In fact, I don’t want to.

“Yes,” I breathe. “Let’s go.”

With that, we make our way across the street and into the lap of indescribable luxury.

7

Ally

I’m shy as we step into the elevator. It’s not just being in such close quarters with this man. It’s the fact that I’mwayout of my element. Rob Lockhart is a billionaire, and his building shows it in every way. When we stepped into the foyer of this imposing fortress, there were three doormen waiting, all dressed in natty red uniforms with jaunty caps.

“Welcome home, Sir,” said the one at the door, bowing a little. “I trust you had a good night?”

Rob nods while taking my elbow.

“It was fantastic,” he growls. “Good night everyone.”

And with that, we began walking to the left, our shoes tapping against the shiny marble floor. I start.

“Wait, isn’t it that way?” I ask in a whisper, nodding to the right. “The elevator banks are over there.”

A gleam enters his blue eyes.

“Yes, if you’re everyone else. But if you’re me, and you live in the penthouse, then you have your own private elevator. Come on, sweetheart. This way.”

My mouth almost falls open in shock, but I catch myself in time.His own private elevator?What kind of world does Mr. Lockhart live in? Clearly one of immense privilege, where nothing is too good or out of reach.

Like a shy child, I follow him into the gilded gold box. I catch a glimpse of myself with Rob in a mirror mounted on the elevator wall, and suddenly, my heart folds in on itself. I’m momentarily reminded of why we’re such an unlikely pair. The man I’m with is tall, gorgeous and dominating, dressed in a perfectly-cut black suit with an expensive watch on his wrist. Me, I’m in an outfit I got from Ann Taylor on sale for fifty bucks when I visited the outlet mall in New Jersey last year.

But I make myself take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders. The billionaire invited me here, and I chose to come of my own accord. He wants me, and I want him too. Is that wrong? This is the modern age where women come and go as they like, so I shouldn’t be ashamed of what I look like, or what I have to offer.Carpe diem,the voice in my head whispers.You only live once.

How ironic. Wasn’t there a James Bond movie calledYou Only Live Twice? At this point, I can’t think. Rob is looking at me with such heated intent that a small flame ignites in my pussy and my knees go weak. All this, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.

Ding!The elevator chimes and the doors slide open noiselessly. It’s so different from my walk-up, where you have to heave yourself up five floors before arriving at my teeny apartment which is cramped and untidy. Instead, the elevator opens up directly into a foyer of sorts, except that there’s a canary yellow Lamborghini parked by the door.

“What is this?” I asked, staring at the car. “Why is there a sports vehicle here?”

The billionaire throws his head back and laughs.

“Well evidently the developers got it in their minds that parking lots were passe,” he drawls with amusement. So they built a special car elevator, and my Lambo sleeps at night in the penthouse with me.