To Love and To Lust

Chapter 1

Amelia

Groaning, I lazily drag my body out of bed and into the bathroom. If I want to make it to work on time, then I need to start getting ready as soon as possible.

Showering and brushing my teeth quickly, I gather my hair in a low ponytail and dress in a white button-up blouse and a navy blue pencil skirt. I'm going for professional, albeit sexy. I add navy blue closed-toe stilettos to finish my appearance while I leave my face bare.

Stuffing my phone and other necessities in my handbag, I slowly trod downstairs to see my father eating breakfast at the large kitchen island.

"Morning, Dad," I greet in a lazy voice, still not fully awake because I hadn’t had my morning dose of coffee yet.

"Morning, Pumpkin," he replies, looking up once, then continuing to eat.

Despite me being a twenty-two-year-old woman, my dad still insists on calling me his special nickname. I really don't mind when we're at home, but at work, we're just employer and employee and he should act as such.

Bosses don’t call their employees 'pumpkin'. Not unless they want a lawsuit against them.

Yes, my dad is my boss, and I've asked him to treat me as he would any other employee and not to give me any special treatment, but he doesn’t seem to care.

One day, I'd like to make a name for myself, and if I let him favor me at work, I won't feel like I've earned my place honestly. The last thing I would want to do is ride my father's coattail.

"Can I have a ride to work?" I ask as I fill my travel mug with coffee.

"No," he answers simply.

Every morning, I ask him the same question and he gives me the same answer. This is only so because of me, my big mouth, and my wanting to be ‘independent’. There is a car sitting in the garage that my father bought for me and I don’t drive.

You see, I do this because my father won’t control my life this way. He says I’m only a woman and can have full control of my life if I can pay my own bills.

So, I help with the bills and groceries, and, in return, I have the freedom to do whatever, whenever I want. That is the agreement between my father and me and it will serve me very well until I can do better.

Well, things are not great in the aspect of my s*x life because my father is a c*ck-blocker and I still can't take anything that has a p*nis home.

He didn’t say that in particular, but I have the feeling that if I did, he’d m*rder him and then make all his top-shot lawyer employees get him off the charge. He owns a large law firm, consisting of only the best in the country and I have no doubt that they would win his case.

“I’ll see you at work. Don’t be late,” my dad says, winking at me.

I laugh loudly because it doesn’t look as good as he thinks, but I won’t be the one to burst his bubble.

“Yes, see ya, Dad,” I reply before he’s completely out the door.

What he doesn’t know is that I have already contacted the taxi company I use exclusively and the car will be here the very minute he leaves.

Grabbing my phone, I briefly run through my full calendar while I wait, before putting it back in my bag. I need to get started on my day. All that seems to occupy my mind is work, work, and more work, but I love it that way, despite feeling very lonely sometimes.

I sigh. I need some fun, as my best friend constantly tells me. At the age of twenty-two, I should be out and enjoying my life, not subject myself to being a workaholic.

At the sound of a car horn, I grab my things and exit the house.

“Good morning,” I greet the driver as I enter the backseat of the car.

“Good morning, Ma’am,” he says.

I discreetly roll my eyes. If you want me to hate you, address me in a way that makes me feel old.

I don’t bother arguing or requesting that he call me by my first name because it will be pointless. If I meet him again, since I always use the same company, they’ll revert to the same thing.

As the building comes into view, I clear my mind of all things personal and focus on what I'm going to do for the rest of the day.

Arriving an hour early, I sit at my desk, which is located in front of my father’s office, and sip the coffee I brought from home.

Earlier, when he told me not to be late, he was just teasing me because I’m always on time. As I've said before, I’m a workaholic.

My desk phone rings, startling me, and almost causing me to spill my coffee. Only two people ever call this phone. My boss, also known as my father, and the receptionist, Lily, also known as my best friend, direct a call, and she’s not even there yet. So that only leaves one option.

“Good morning. Brown and Company. How may I help?” I say politely, though I already know who it is.

“Amelia,” my father’s voice comes through the phone. “ I need a cup of coffee.”

“Mr. Brown, with all due respect, Sir, I’d like it if you address me as Ms. Brown,” I say, reminding him of our rules at work. I want to be treated just as he does everyone else and he addresses them formerly, so he should do the same for me. He clears his throat before he answers.

“Yes, Ms. Brown,” he says, “Now, about that coffee?”

“Coming right up, Sir,” I say, emphasizing the word sir.

Going to the kitchen, I make a fresh pot of coffee. It’s one of the reasons everyone here loves me and not only because I’m the boss’s daughter.

Taking out the largest disposable coffee cup, which is twelve ounces, I fill it completely, knowing it will last a while, and keep my father from constantly being a pest to me.

Knocking on his door and entering, I place the coffee on his desk and take a step back. He looks at me like he has something to say but doesn’t know how to say it.

“Is there anything else, Sir?” I ask, narrowing my eyes, which wasn’t something an employee would do to a boss, but I'm pulling out the daughter card, despite my arguing against it not too long ago.

“Yes, Pumpkin. I mean Ms. Brown,” he sighed. Whatever it is that he wants to say must not be easy.

“Tell me,” I demand, our rules long forgotten.

“I have to go away for two days to meet a client and I don’t want to leave you alone,” he says but I can tell that’s not all. There's something else to it, but I'm going to wait until he's ready to spill the bean.

“Seriously? You had me worried because you didn’t want to leave me alone? Dad, for god’s sake, I’m twenty-two and capable!” I tell him, exasperated.

“I know, but…”

“No buts,” I cut him off. “You’re going and that’s final!”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he says, knowing how much I hate it. I roll my eyes in response.

“You're lucky I love you.”

“I love you too, honey,” he replies despite me not telling him I love him directly.

“When are you leaving?” I ask.

“Tonight,” he replies.

"I'll pack a bag for you," I offer.

"Honey, that's not necessary," he says, looking everywhere but at me.

'Something is definitely going on, and I'm going to get to the bottom of it.'