Forbidden Dad: The Irresistible Daddies Book 2 Page 2

  She was smart – she probably already knew on some level. But I wasn’t about to tarnish the reputation of her mother.

  That was a low I’d never be willing to sink to.

  I just hoped that after several years of making bachelor meals for myself, I still knew how to make something my daughter would find edible. As I made my way into the kitchen and looked at the chicken roasting in the oven, I heard the sound of the front door swinging open and slamming shut, followed by several thuds and loud, exuberant voices.

  “Dad!” Hollie yelled. “I’m home!”

  I cleared my throat and went into the foyer. Hollie grinned at me. Her light brown hair and blue eyes was just like Krista’s had been at her age, but her smile was all me.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” I said as Hollie rushed over and hugged me. When I saw the person next to her, I froze. Standing beside her was Paris Malone, and the sight of her made my mouth go dry.

  “You remember Paris, right?” Hollie joked.

  I nodded. “Of course,” I said, forcing myself to relax and act natural. God, she was stunning. The last time I’d seen her had been over three years ago, when she and Hollie had graduated from high school. In that time, she appeared to have matured from a very cute girl into a beautiful, curvaceous young woman. Her auburn hair was tied into a loose bun and her green eyes sparkled shyly. More tantalizingly, she wore a loose t-shirt that didn’t quite conceal the tempting curve of her breasts and her leggings clung to her ass in a way that nearly made my cock hard.

  “How are you?” I asked Paris. “How have you been?”

  Paris didn’t reply – she only gave me a shy smile with soft pink lips.

  God, she’s gorgeous, I thought.

  “Dad, can I talk to you for a minute?” Hollie asked. She jerked her head to the side, gesturing to the kitchen.

  I tried to shove all inappropriate thoughts of Paris, her flashing green eyes, and her lush curves out of my head before following Hollie into the kitchen. As soon as we were alone, she lowered her voice.

  “Look, Paris needs a place to stay for the summer,” Hollie said quietly. “Can she crash with us? Please, Dad, it’s really important.”

  I didn’t say anything. My eyes automatically panned back to Paris, who was still standing in the foyer, looking discreetly down at a pile of luggage, bags, and purses. A jolt of lust ran through me when she bent over, showing her heart-shaped ass to me as she rummaged through her purse.

  I knew she couldn’t possibly have been doing it on purpose, but it was like she knew exactly how I was feeling ... and that she was teasing me.

  That was impossible – she was a child, someone barely twenty years old. She couldn’t have known the effect she was having on me, a grown man who definitely shouldn’t have been having the kinds of thoughts that he was.

  “I don’t know,” I said slowly. “It’s probably not a good idea.”

  Hollie put her hands on her hips, sassing me the same way she had when she had been a teenager.

  “Why?” She asked. She squinted. “Dad, seriously. She’s my best friend. You know that.”

  “It’s just ... uh, it’s not a good idea,” I repeated. Because if you knew the way I was feeling about your adorable best friend right now, you wouldn’t want her around, either, I added silently. You’d think your dear old dad was a freak or a pervert.

  “Well, I already told her that she could stay here,” Hollie practically hissed.

  “Why can’t she stay with her adoptive parents?” I asked.

  “They divorced a few years ago,” Hollie said. Her voice took a dark turn. “Like you and Mom,” she added, somewhat caustically. “And neither of them live in Chicago anymore.”

  “Oh.” It was all I could say. My eyes flitted back to Paris, who was examining her phone, peering down at it with a squinted expression. It’s her boyfriend or someone, I thought suddenly. An irrational flash of jealousy ran through when I pictured the man lucky enough to be blessed with someone as beautiful and sweet as Paris.

  “Dad, Paris has a job here,” Hollie said. “And she really needs a place in the city. You know what it’s like trying to commute in from Skokie, remember?” She raised her voice and Paris’s head snapped up. When she locked eyes with me from the hallway, her pale cheeks flushed deep crimson.

  “It’s really okay if staying here won’t work,” Paris said softly. She walked into the kitchen, and Hollie seemed to disappear.

  “I can definitely find somewhere else,” Paris continued. She flicked her eyes over me and I could feel myself melting.

  “Of course, it’s okay,” I said. “You can stay here. In fact, we’d be delighted to have you as our guest.”

  Hollie threw me a weird look, but I ignored her. Just as I was about to help the girls carry their bags upstairs, an acrid smell hit my nose and I heard the screeching beep of the fire extinguisher.

  “Fuck,” I said under my breath. “The chicken!”

  “Oh my god, Dad,” Hollie cried. She ran over to the oven and yanked the door open. Plumes of smoke filled the air and she coughed and gagged, motioning for Paris to come and help her. As my daughter and Paris took the chicken pan out of the oven and dumped it in the sink, Hollie turned to me and rolled her eyes.

  “And we’re going to be cooking for you,” she said. “God, Dad, did you really forget how to roast something?”

  Inwardly, I groaned. If it hadn’t been for Paris and her mesmerizing, distracting curves, dinner would have turned out perfectly.

  Well, maybe not perfectly.

  But at least it would have been edible.

  I sighed. “I’ll get my keys,” I said. “We’re going out.”

  Twenty minutes later, the three of us were sitting at a sushi place in Lakeview. As Paris and Hollie chatted and laughed, I was beginning to regret caving in.

  But it wasn’t like I could have said no.

  Not with the history between us.

  The first time I saw Paris, she had been all of ten years old. Sitting a closet with a disgustingly filthy mop and bucket. Her face had been streaked with dirt and tears. Her skinny limbs had been covered in bruises, and she’d burst into frightened sobs when she’d seen me, only seconds before launching herself into my arms.

  That day, I’d rescued her from a bad situation. Of course, I hadn’t been able to help her as much as I would have liked.

  Not with Krista’s refusal to adopt her, as Hollie, myself, and Paris had wanted.

  Maybe, I reasoned. Maybe this summer will somehow make up for that failing.

  At least, it might do that if I can keep my thoughts to myself ... and make sure that I start viewing Paris as a surrogate daughter, something I know that she’s always wanted.

  I got to my feet and pulled out my credit card. “You girls have fun,” I told Hollie, handing her my card. “Order whatever you want.”

  Hollie frowned. “Dad, where are you going? I just got back – I thought you’d want to catch up.”

  “I’ve got to go to work,” I told her. “We’ll talk later, I promise.”

  “Oh,” Hollie said. “Well, okay,” she said. Her disappointment didn’t last too long – by the look in her eyes, I could tell she was already planning on ordering several pitchers of Sapporo with my card.

  Turning from my daughter and Paris took a Herculean effort, but I had to do it.

  After all, there was important work to be done.

  2

  Paris – Tuesday

  “You really think it’s okay?” I asked Hollie. We were sitting in traffic – I hadn’t missed that about my home city of Chicago – and Hollie was stretching up in her seat, trying to peer over the rows and rows and rows of cars that were keeping us from Lincoln Park where her father, Harrison, lived in a graystone row house.

  Harrison. Just thinking about him was enough to make my stomach flip with anxiety and excitement. I hadn’t seen him in over three years, since I graduated from high school, and I wondered if he was still exactly the same a
s I remembered. With his dark hair and sapphire-blue eyes, he was easily the most handsome man whom I’d ever met.

  But my attraction to Harrison came from so much more than just appearances. He was strong and tall and tough on the outside ... but I’d known Harrison for ten years, long enough to know that deep down, he was extremely generous and kind. Back when Hollie and I were kids, he’d been a cop. Now, he’d worked his way up to detective, and I thought he had to be one of the smartest people I’d ever known.

  “Sorry, what?” Hollie asked. She frowned at the traffic. “God, this sucks. At this rate, it’ll be dark before we get there.” As if just remembering that I’d asked her something, she turned to me and looked at me over the rims of her aviators.

  I blushed and bit my lip. “I asked if it’s really okay if I stay with you over the summer,” I said. “I mean, did you ask your dad?”

  “Not yet. But he’ll say yes,” Hollie said assuredly. “I mean, he has to. You’re practically my sister.” She reached over and gave my arm an affectionate squeeze.

  Her words didn’t exactly fill me with confidence. I knew that Harrison cared for me, but I also knew that what we were asking was a huge imposition.

  It wasn’t like I had a choice, though. After losing my scholarship due to a particularly brutal professor and a bad bout of the flu, it wasn’t like I could afford to sublet an apartment for the summer. On the drive home from MontClaire to Chicago, I couldn’t stop thinking about Harrison. Hollie had given me updates on her dad’s life over the years, but not nearly as many as I’d wanted. We’d never talked about it, but I was sure that she knew the truth: her father was the love of my life, and I wanted nothing more than to be his.

  I also knew that he was divorced ... and now, I was filled with dread and anxiety at the thought of him dating, or worse, getting married again.

  “Anyway, I really appreciate it,” I told Hollie as she turned down her father’s street and put her blinkers on. Pausing on the side of the street, she grinned at me.

  “Trust me, he’ll probably be relieved,” Hollie said. “I think without Mom around, Dad’s worried that I’m going to talk his ear off all summer long.”

  Now, over an hour later, I sat at Ichiban Sushi with Hollie and Harrison. The restaurant was dimly lit – intimately, I thought – and the food was delicious, but I could barely eat anything.

  “Are you okay?” Hollie asked. She leaned over and whispered: “Don’t worry about the stuff Dad said at home. He’s probably just worried we’ll get into trouble or something. You know him – always a cop.”

  I tried to smile, but inside I wasn’t so sure that she was right. Harrison hadn’t wanted me to stay there, that much had been crystal clear. As soon as Hollie had pulled him to the side and asked, I’d heard his words.

  It’s not a good idea, he’d told her.

  As if he hadn’t known me for ten years.

  As if I wasn’t already indebted enough to him.

  As if he hadn’t totally rescued me and saved my life.

  The day my grandmother died, my father and I didn’t go to the funeral. We stayed home. It was raining outside, and I sat by the windows and watched as streams of water flooded down the glass.

  My father was, as usual, passed out in his easy chair. There was a meth flute on the scarred wooden table beside him, and a bag full of blueish crystals that were partially spilled over the surface.

  Just looking at it made me feel sick to my stomach. I knew it was wrong, but I was so angry with my father. He’d smoked that stuff again, and now we weren’t in church, saying goodbye to Gramma and mourning.

  Back when I was very small, I’d thought the crystals had been pretty. They smelled terrible, but they were gorgeous, and I pretended that they were little treasures and rocks from outer space. One time, Daddy had caught me playing with them.

  I still had the scar on my arm from where he’d burned me with his cigarette as a punishment. Now, I knew better than that – I knew that I wasn’t even supposed to be looking at the drugs.

  Daddy spent most of his days sleeping now, when he wasn’t smoking. The small apartment we shared in Rogers Park always smelled musty and stale, and I missed more school than I attended. It wasn’t like Daddy noticed, but I never stayed home because I wanted to.

  I stayed home because I was afraid that if I left for too long, I’d come home and find Daddy gone, forever.

  I always knew that I’d remember that day – but not for the reason I initially thought. I thought I’d remember because it was the day of my grandmother’s funeral.

  But in reality, I wound up remembering the day because it was the beginning of the end. After his mother died, my father’s mental health and drug addiction took a turn for the worst. He wasn’t just smoking meth out of his little glass flute anymore. Now, he was drinking to excess, sometimes up to two handles per day. He started smoking crack and inviting men whom he called his friends over to party with him. His drug dealer was always there, staring at me and licking his lips.

  Every day I passed in a terrified haze.

  It got to be too much. I’d lie on the couch, pretending to be asleep, while Daddy’s friends smoked and drank and leered at me.

  “Paris,” Daddy muttered one afternoon. “Get dressed. We’re going out.”

  I was now ten years old, and the idea of leaving the apartment was almost frightening. As dirty and disgusting as it was, the apartment was home. Rogers Park was a terrible neighborhood, too – I always hear gunshots and screams and cries for help from the neighbors.

  “Where are we going?” I asked. “What’s going on?”

  Daddy didn’t reply. He cursed and swore as he pulled his jacket over his frame and then turned to me.

  “Hurry the fuck up,” he growled, in a tone that I knew meant business. I pulled my coat on and shoved my feet in my too-small shoes: telling Daddy that I’d outgrown them yet again wouldn’t result in anything other than a slap across the face.

  Outside, the weather was bitterly cold. It was so strange to be outdoors with my father: he hadn’t left the apartment in what felt like forever. Despite the cold weather, Daddy walked at a fast pace and I had to trot to keep up. We crossed block after block and soon, found ourselves in front of a decrepit building. A man was sitting outside, holding the leash of a pit bull that was barking and snarling and drooling all over the pavement.

  “Inside,” Daddy said. He opened the door and led me into the building. We climbed a crumbling, creaky stairway that smelled like pee and stood in front of a door. I could hear loud music blaring from the inside, and Daddy rapped on the door.

  When it swung open, my heart sank as I recognized the man standing on the other side of the door.

  It was Daddy’s dealer, and he smirked down at me.

  “Here she is,” Daddy said. He put a hand on my back and shoved me, making me stumble and step forward.

  “You’re all paid up,” his dealer growled. To me, he held out his hand. I refused to take it, and he wrapped dirty fingers around my wrist and yanked me inside.

  “Daddy,” I cried loudly. “Daddy, what’s going on?!”

  I expected my father to follow me inside, but instead, he did the unthinkable. As I twisted and craned my neck to see him, I watched as he turned and walked down the stairs.

  “You’re mine now,” Daddy’s dealer growled. He pulled harder at my wrist and I stumbled once more, falling to my knees. Tears of pain and fear came to my eyes.

  “I don’t have time for this fucking shit,” the dealer said. He yanked me roughly to my feet, hurting my arm and dragging me across the floor. I screamed in fear and he slapped me across the face, hard, with his free hand.

  “You stay quiet, you hear me?”

  All I could do was sob as the man led me to a closet, opened the door, and shoved me inside. Before I could protest, he slammed the door in my face.

  Inside the closet, it was dark and smelled horrible. I curled up and wrapped my arms around my knees, unable to
comprehend what had just happened.

  Had Daddy really just given me to his dealer, just like that? He had to be coming back, surely. He wouldn’t leave me alone, not like this.

  Hours passed, each worse than the last. The dealer opened the closet once to offer me a piece of greasy, cold fried chicken, but I was too afraid to eat. I kept worrying about what was going to happen to me.

  I didn’t know what it would be, but I knew that it would be horrible.

  When the door opened again, I shrieked with fright. I expected to see the leering, pale face of the dealer again.

  Instead, there was an angel standing in front of me. His handsome face was contorted with concern and his blue eyes spoke of kindness. He was wearing a dark blue uniform and before he could say anything to me, I flung myself at him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

  I didn’t know anything about this man, other than that he had saved me.

  And that I would be in love with him for the rest of my life.

  “Paris?”

  The note of concern in Hollie’s voice brought me back to the present. I wasn’t in that closet anymore – I was sitting in a posh sushi restaurant with Hollie and Harrison. I wasn’t a scared, dirty little girl.

  Now, I was an adult woman.

  But thinking about that day still frightened me to the core.

  “Sorry,” I said, blushing. “I was spacing out.”

  “Yeah, no kidding,” Hollie said. “Dad’s leaving. He’s giving us his credit card. You want a drink?”

  “Um, sure,” I said, still dazed in my thoughts.

  After Harrison rescued me, things happened quickly. He brought me home to his nice house in the suburbs and let me stay with his family – his wife, Krista and his daughter, Hollie – while Social Services worked on my case and found me a foster family.

  He’d even wanted to adopt me. He’d told me that he wanted to make me a part of the family, make me another daughter.

  But his wife, Krista, wasn’t having it. She said that Harrison had already done enough – that the system would do a much better job of caring for me.