Page 1

Chapter

One

ADON

No one touches my radio.

Painted purple nails drum on the leather console next to me. If they make a move toward the buttons on the dash, I’m ready to strike them down. My head bobs forward as a foot lands against the back of my seat.

Through gritted teeth, I manage to maintain a normal tone. “Odin.”

“Sorry, Dad.”

With a quick glance in the rearview mirror, I make sure he’s still got his seatbelt on.

“Can you drop me off around the corner?” My daughter stuffs her fake nails in her mouth and chews on them. Her eyes dart around the school parking lot like she’s waiting for something.

I scan the kids walking in, wondering what’s got her so nervous. “Why?” As soon as I ask, I spot a few delinquent looking punks schlepping backpacks and kicking rocks on their way in. One carries a skateboard behind his neck. Fucking twerps.

When I pull into the drop off lane, Avery’s big green eyes meet mine with a look of terror. “Please, Dad.”

Muscles along the back of my neck tense, and I straighten a finger to wave it at the boys approaching the truck. “Those kids bothering you?”

“No! Oh my god.” She hurriedly unbuckles her seatbelt and slides onto the floorboard, then covers her head with her backpack. “Dad! Please! They’ll see me!”

Odin sings from the backseat, “Avery’s got a crush on Liaaaammmm! Dad! Did you know Liam is a drummer and Avery wants to kiss him?”

“Odin!” she screams as heat flames across my cheeks.

The boys make it inside while I memorize what they look like, just in case I need to kill either of them. “Sit in your seat. You’re not having a crush on a drummer. At least pick a horn player.” Desperate to avoid this topic altogether, but knowing I have to do something, I clear my throat. “Better yet. Stick to orchestra. Maybe a cellist.”

Avery’s olive skin turns red as she gets up and huffs at me, then jumps out of the truck.

“Do not slam?—!”

She slams the door. With a deep breath, I steel my nerves. If she wasn’t going to her mom’s this weekend, I’d confiscate everything she has and go through it all for any mention of a Liam . Will probably do that next week when she gets home. It makes me ready to shed the Dad Adon persona and ease into the evening’s festivities.

Odin bobs happily on the cushy bench, a broad grin painted on his face. He’s my little spy, so I ply him for information. “Tell me about this Liam.”

On the way to the elementary school, he spills every detail he’s discovered. Avery met the kid in band the first week of class. He’s in eighth grade, while she only just started sixth. They’ve chatted on the school app, and she told her best friend that she wants to make out with him. My heart pounds harder until Odin says he knows she’s never had a kiss before.

When I curse under my breath, Odin says, “Dad! You’re not supposed to say fuck !”

“I can say what I want. You’re not allowed to say fuck. Here’s your mother.”

Emily catches some of her long brown hair as it blows across her face. My son and I step out, and he immediately grabs his mom for a big hug. With a nod her way, I hand her one of the overnight bags from the bed of my truck. Odin heads toward the entrance with a hop in his step.

“Odin! Wait. You forgot something.” Hurriedly, I snag his backpack strap and tug him in for a tight embrace. Every time I show my son affection, I think about how much I screwed up raising my youngest brother, Eli. I won’t repeat those mistakes. “Love you. Be good. Do what your mom and the teachers say.”

“Love you, too, Dad!” He runs off toward the front entrance while I load the rest of the bags into the backseat of Emily’s SUV.

“That it?” she asks, holding my gaze for a moment before we part.

For a moment, I hesitate and lick my bottom lip, then tilt my head and ask, “Do you know anything about a Liam?”

She affords me a rare smile. Not a full one, but it’s enough that it feels nice, knowing after all the years of being at odds with each other, she’s able to show some peace now. Emily’s just another victim of my grave errors. Ones I won’t make again.

“Yeah, I do.” The flash of her eyes tells me she knows much more than she’s letting on.

“Anything I need to be concerned about?”

Her hand reaches out to rub my forearm gently, and the touch makes me sad. It’s a reminder of what I’ve lost. It’s rare that anyone is near enough to touch me like this. With tenderness. “Oh, Adon. No. It’s her first crush. Let her have it. Please?”

“I don’t think I’m going to make it through her teenage years.” Running my hands over the short hairs along the sides of my scalp, I clench my back molars. “I can’t do this, Em. She’s too young. Odin says he’s in eighth.”

She purses her lips to keep her smile contained. “Stop. It’s fine. She’s coming to tell me everything right now. If you go barbarian on her, she’ll just shut down. Leave it alone.”

The only thing I can give her is another nod while I kick at the pavement. When I lift my head, I politely ask, “How’s Bryan?”

With her hand on her door, she shrugs. “He’s good. We’re good, and yes, he’ll be around this week with us. If you want to come over, you’re welcome any time, Adon. I’m not stopping you from hanging out with your kids.” Emotion grips my chest as her face draws into a serious expression. I know damn well what words she’s going to say next. “It’s not good for you to be alone so much.”

And the answer I always keep in my head echoes through my thoughts once more: but it’s safer for everyone else.

Not bothering with a response, I wave and turn to my vehicle, then jump in, heading toward the shop. After parking behind the building, I pause and glance up at the sign. Griffin Bros. Motors . Dad would like it if he were alive. But not how I let things lapse with Elijah, who’s currently standing next to Tate in the front bay. Both have their heads inside the open hood of a Ford.

As I approach, Tate’s eyes flash to mine with a cautionary look, and my hackles raise with irritation. “He’s fine. He’s doing fine,” my best friend repeats before I reach the engine and inspect their work. Eli hurriedly swaps out hoses like he just got caught stealing something.

Tension returns to my neck, and I slap my hand on it. “This car was here last week. Did something happen?”

Eli won’t even look at me, his mumbled mutters aimed at the block in front of him. “I got it.” When I don’t move, he fiddles around clumsily, then raises his head. His guilty expression changes to anger when I cross my arms and wait. “Tate’s helping me. I-I’ll fix it.”

With a deep breath, I decide that an argument this early in the morning isn’t worth it. At least he was here on time. And doesn’t look intoxicated.

Tate gives me a nod, then slaps him on the back in praise. Something I probably should do for him, too, but I don’t. If I reward him now, he’ll just start slacking off.

Fortunately, the rest of the day goes smoothly. Near the end of it, I gather up some paperwork and shut down the computer for the weekend. Tate steps into the office, rubbing an apple on his red jump suit that almost matches his hair. “Heading out for your appointment?”

“Yep.”

Slipping into the chair across from me, he perches his feet on the edge of the desk and smiles like he has a secret. “You going to tell me what this standing appointment is?”

“Nope.”

He takes a big bite from the side of the fruit, crunching into it while chuckling low and long. “Adon, bro . If it’s a hot little piece you don’t want anyone to know about, I get it. But it’s me . We fucked Trisha Long at the same time back in the day. We double deckered all three of Brent’s bathrooms in high school. You stood watch while I fucked his mom! I helped you steal that Pontiac ? —”

Bristling, I stop him from continuing with a sharp wave of my hand. “That was never to be mentioned again.” The chair’s wheels squeal against the concrete floor as I stand and grab my phone. “And you’ll still never find out about my standing Friday night appointment.”

It’s mine .

Something no one knows about me. Because I’m not me when I go.

“Fine, fine. Have a great time! See you Monday.”

Back home, I take my time in the shower and with a clean trim, leaving my black beard at the perfect short length I prefer. At the back of my closet are my two suits that I swap every other week for the occasion. Unless there’s a funeral, Adon Griffin doesn’t wear these types of clothes.

Daddy Don does.

Other than a red paisley pocket square, my dress shirt, slacks, shoes, and jacket are all black. Even the molded mask I tuck into my pocket is a flat onyx color.

Once I slide my phone out of my pocket, I open the app to see where the club is stationed tonight. Looks like it’s in the old industrial warehouse turned apartment complex on the outskirts of town. It’s not my favorite of their locations, but it’ll do. There aren’t private rooms in this particular setting, but voyeurism doesn’t bother me, as long as my mask stays in place.

It’s a dark, moonless night when I approach the steel door in the alley between the large structures. The bouncer recognizes me, but I flash him the invitation on my phone anyway. With a silent nod, he opens the door to let me in.

Tarin’s working the bar and spots me with a big smile as she shoves a whiskey in my direction. “Don. Good to see you. Want one or two tonight?”

She knows I don’t drink much, wanting to keep my cool for whatever may come up. “Just this. Thanks.” I stuff a twenty-dollar tip in her jar, then turn on the bar stool to watch the crowd.

The wide dance floor is lit up with colored strobe lights. Another reason this place isn’t my favorite is because it’s brighter here than other places and the music isn’t to my taste. A DJ blares something younger people probably love. I’ll stick with my jazz.

My attention is drawn to a tiny woman in the center of a group of men, waving her arms high above her head and swiveling her hips seductively. Her short pink hair catches the neon glowing spotlights as they skirt across the floor. While taking a sip of my drink, I follow her with my eyes as I find an empty booth along the dance floor. One side has two chairs, the other a bench seat. A black curtain closes the alcove only halfway. It’s the closest this place has for privacy.

A few of the women here are recognizable from my previous visits. I nod politely at some of them, but they know my rules.

No repeats.

No kissing.

No emotion.

That last one I keep to myself. This is strictly about getting needs met. My desire for control and theirs for giving it up. I’m not allowing myself the opportunity to engage in something I’ll just fuck up, like my previous marriage.

Despite all the older gentlemen surrounding the little pixie, it doesn’t take long for her to notice me in the corner. I’m a large man, probably the tallest here. Definitely the broadest. Wherever I go, most people recognize my stature. Only problem is, I also own a very reputable mechanic shop during the daylight hours, and I don’t want these two facets of my life mixing.

No one has ever said they recognized me at work, but it could happen. I’ve seen a few club goers come through the shop from time to time, but I let Tate handle those repairs, while I stay in the back office. The mask helps with anonymity, and also when the gals get too into it and reach for my lips.

That’s not something I’ll do with someone again. Intimacy was over when Emily walked out the door. As it closed, I knew…I’d failed, and I wasn’t sure I could ever succeed in a relationship. She said I never opened up. That I kept things deep inside and wouldn’t talk. She was completely right. I’m not even sure how to do that. Or even if I want to.

So here I sit while the rosy-cheeked dancer waltzes toward me with pretend shyness. Her tiny silver flapper dress looks like a mirror ball, sending prisms of light with her every move. She must be under five-five because the gigantic clear stilettos she’s wearing make her only about five-nine, if that. Now that she faces me, I catch the shine of glitter across her chest, too. The girl looks like New Year’s Eve.

And I want to celebrate every inch of her.

As she approaches, I slowly drag my thumbs over my open thighs. My cock thickens with every sway of her hips. Her eyes are drawn to the motion underneath my zipper until she stops between my legs and bends over, placing her lips near my mask.

With her this close, I catch a spattering of freckles speckled across her nose. Patchouli and vanilla waft over me, the scent a hint of who she is. But the outfit? The glitz? It doesn’t seem to go with the essence of the little creature placing her hand on my shoulder.

“Mind if I sit?” she asks with an arch of her darker eyebrow.

When I nod, she barely hesitates before climbing onto my lap and tossing her arms around my neck. Sure, we’re in a sex club, but I’ve never met a woman this forward.

“What are you drinking?” She picks up my glass and takes a whiff. As she lifts it to her parted mouth, I slap my hand against her wrist and have her lower it back to the table.

“That’s not yours. Don’t be rude.”

Her big eyes startle for a moment as she sets the double back down. “ Okay .” It’s almost as if she’s never been told no. We stare at each other for a long moment, her studying the mask with some curiosity. The vivaciousness she exhibited on the dance floor seems to quell into something deeper. Some intense emotion lies just underneath her surface. What it is, I have no idea…

“What do you want?” I ask her.

Under the dim light, I watch her silver choker shift as she swallows. With a boldness that emanates from her outward persona, she says, “I want a daddy. Like a good one. I need a daddy to make me behave.”

She’s not trying to flirt or fake this. There’s no show she’s putting on, not like the one out in front of the group of guys earlier. My mask feels very apparent while hers has slipped. “Will you be my daddy?” she asks.

Her vulnerability makes the blood surge to my crotch. Here on my lap, she seems so fragile and small. Breakable. Maybe no one else sees it, but it’s there. If I’m not careful, I could seriously hurt her. Still, I came to get some needs met. And that’s what I’ll do.

“For tonight.”