Owned In Secret: Daddy & Son

Chapter 7: Perfect best friend

The fluorescent lights of the office buzzed overhead like a swarm of lazy bees, casting a sterile glow over the open-plan workspace. Ava sat at her desk, fingers flying across her keyboard as she finalized the slides for the afternoon's client pitch. The air was thick with the scent of instant coffee and printer ink, the hum of conversations blending with the clack of keys and the occasional ring of a phone. It was midday in this bustling city, where the tropical sun beat down outside the tinted windows, turning the streets into a shimmering haze. Her colleagues milled about, some chatting by the water cooler, others buried in spreadsheets but Ava was in the zone, her mind sharp despite the lingering ache from that morning's interrupted encounter with Mark.

Her phone vibrated on the desk, pulling her from the screen. Mark's name flashed, and a small smile tugged at her lips. She glanced around, no one was paying attention she answered, leaning back in her chair. "Hey, you. Miss me already?"

Mark's voice came through warm and teasing, a low chuckle that sent a familiar warmth through her. "Miss you? After what you did this morning? Leaving a man hanging like that? Cruel, Ava. Absolutely cruel."

She bit her lip, stifling a laugh as memories flooded back, the cool counter against her skin, his hands gripping her hips, the unfinished heat that had left her body buzzing all morning. "Oh, come on. I was late! Boss called, literally mid... everything."

"Yeah, I remember," he said, his tone dropping to that husky timbre she knew so well. "You pushed me off right when things were getting good. My d**k was left high and dry, babe. Or should I say, wet and frustrated?"

Ava's cheeks flushed, her eyes darting to make sure no one was eavesdropping. The office was a sea of cubicles, partitioned by low walls that offered little privacy, but her corner was relatively secluded. She lowered her voice, a playful edge creeping in. "Okay, maybe I was a little abrupt. But you were the one insisting on 'wait till I cum.' If you'd listened, we could've finished."

He laughed, the sound rich and unapologetic. "Your moans distracted me. You were so into it, deep, satisfying sounds like you didn't want to stop either. Admit it, you were this close to forgetting work altogether."

She shifted in her seat, the memory stirring that unresolved tension between her legs. "Fine, guilty. But I promise I'll make it up to you. Tonight? My place?"

"Actually, that's why I'm calling," Mark said, his voice shifting to something more serious, though still laced with affection. "How about dinner? That new fusion spot downtown the one with the rooftop view. My treat. We can... continue where we left off after."

Ava's smile widened. It had been a while since they'd done a proper date night, not with her work deadlines and this finance gigs keeping them in a cycle of quick mornings and late-night crashes. "Sounds perfect. 7:30? I'll meet you there."

"Deal. And Ava? Wear that red dress. The one that drives me crazy."

She rolled her eyes, but the flirtation warmed her. "We'll see. Love you."

"Love you too. Don't be late ."

The call ended, and Ava set her phone down, a flutter of anticipation in her chest. Mark was good like that teasing but sweet, always finding ways to keep the spark alive despite their routines. She dove back into her slides, the office noise fading into the background as she polished the final graphics. The campaign was for a local tourism board, promoting hidden beaches and vibrant markets in their unspecified homeland a project that had her dreaming of escape, even if just for a weekend.

Lunch break came and went in a blur of salad from the cafeteria and quick chats with coworkers about weekend plans. By 2:00 PM, the presentation was underway in the conference room, a sleek space with glass walls overlooking the city skyline. Ava nailed it confident delivery, sharp responses to questions earning nods from her boss and a "Well done" that boosted her mood. The rest of the afternoon dragged with emails and follow-ups, the clock ticking slower as quitting time approached. By 5:30, she was packing up, her mind already shifting to dinner with Mark. The red dress? Maybe. It did hug her in all the right places.

Stepping out of the building, the evening heat hit her like a wave, the sun dipping low but still potent, casting golden hues over the streets. Cars honked in the perpetual traffic jam, pedestrians streamed by in a mix of business attire and casual wear, and the air carried the scent of street food grilled skewers and fresh coconut water from nearby vendors. Ava's heels clicked against the pavement as she headed toward the parking lot, but something caught her eye: a familiar figure leaning against the bumper of a sleek black sedan, arms crossed, a grin splitting his face.

Dylan.

Her heart leaped, a genuine excitement bubbling up. "Hey, Dylan!" she exclaimed, breaking into a run despite her heels, her bag bouncing against her side. She threw her arms around him in a tight hug, inhaling his cologne something fresh and citrusy that always reminded her of summer adventures. Dylan was tall and lean, with tousled brown hair that fell just over his forehead, sharp green eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses, and a casual style that screamed effortless cool: fitted jeans, a button-up shirt rolled to the elbows revealing toned forearms, and sneakers that looked like they'd seen a few hikes. Leaning on the bumper, he exuded that relaxed confidence, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a takeout coffee cup.

Dylan laughed, hugging her back with equal enthusiasm, lifting her slightly off the ground before setting her down. "Missed me that much? It's only been a week."

"You have no idea," Ava said, pulling back but keeping her hands on his arms. Dylan was her rock the only male she was totally open with, no filters, no pretenses. Around him, she felt alive, free, like the world was full of possibilities instead of deadlines. They'd met in college, bonded over late-night study sessions that turned into deep conversations about life, dreams, and everything in between. He was the one she called for advice, for laughs, for those moments when Mark's predictability felt too confining. "What are you doing here? Picking me up like some knight in shining armor?"

"Something like that," he said, his grin widening, those green eyes sparkling with mischief. "Figured you could use a break from the grind. Hop in."

Ava didn't hesitate. She tossed her bag into the backseat through the open window, then slid into the passenger side, the leather seats cool against her skin. The car was Dylan's pride a reliable sedan with a sunroof and a killer sound system, always stocked with snacks and water bottles for spontaneous road trips. As she buckled up, she flipped down the sun visor, checking her makeup in the small mirror lipstick still intact, hair a bit windblown but manageable. She ran her fingers through it, fluffing the strands. "So, where are we going?"

Dylan started the engine, the car purring to life as he pulled out of the lot. "I don't know, anywhere." He glanced at her, that easy smile making her heart light. "Your call. Beach? Ice cream? Or just drive till we find something fun?"

Ava laughed, the sound free and genuine, the stress of the day melting away. "Anywhere sounds perfect." As they merged into traffic, the city lights beginning to flicker on against the deepening twilight, she leaned back, the wind from the cracked window tousling her hair. Dylan cranked up the radio, a upbeat track filling the car, and they sang along off-key, laughing at the missed notes. This was what she loved about him the spontaneity, the way he made ordinary moments feel like adventures. No plans, no pressure, just being.

They ended up at a seaside promenade, the ocean waves crashing against the shore as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in oranges and pinks. Dylan parked, and they walked along the boardwalk, grabbing ice cream from a vendor, mango for her, chocolate for him. "Remember that time in college when we drove to the falls at midnight?" he asked, bumping her shoulder with his.

"How could I forget? We got lost, ended up at that sketchy diner, and you convinced the owner to make us pancakes at 3 AM." Ava grinned, linking her arm through his as they strolled. The sea breeze was refreshing, carrying the salt and freedom she craved. With Dylan, conversations flowed effortlessly from work woes to silly hypotheticals like "What if we quit everything and opened a beach bar?" He listened, really listened, his insights always thoughtful, making her feel seen in ways Mark sometimes missed.

As the evening wore on, they found a quiet spot on the sand, shoes off, toes digging into the warm grains. The stars emerged, the city lights twinkling in the distance like a distant promise. Dylan's hand brushed hers as they talked, a casual touch that felt natural, comforting. "You're glowing tonight," he said softly, his eyes on the waves. "Work treating you okay?"

"Better now," she replied, leaning her head on his shoulder. Time slipped away hours of laughter, shared stories, the kind of connection that recharged her soul. She had the time of her life, totally forgetting the world outside this bubble. Forgetting her phone, left charging at her desk in the office rush. Forgetting Mark.

Meanwhile, across town at the fusion restaurant, Mark sat at a corner table on the rooftop, the city skyline sprawling below. He'd arrived early, 7:15, ordering a glass of wine to calm his nerves. The place was romantic string lights overhead, soft jazz playing, the air scented with herbs and grilled meats. He'd chosen it carefully, wanting to make up for the morning's frustration, to reconnect. But 7:30 came and went. Then 8:00. He checked his phone no messages, calls going straight to voicemail. "Probably stuck in traffic," he muttered, ordering another drink.

By 8:30, worry edged in. He tried again unreachable. 9:00, frustration mounted. The waiter gave sympathetic looks as Mark waved off ordering food. "Waiting for someone." Hours ticked by, the restaurant emptying, the night cooling. Finally, at 10:00, he paid for his drinks and left, anger simmering beneath concern. Her place, he'd check there.

The drive was tense, his mind racing. Was she okay? Or... something else? He pulled up to her building, buzzing the intercom but there wasnno answer. Knocking on her door, ringing the doorbell repeatedly, nothing. His fist clenched, the morning's interruption replaying in his head, now amplified by this ghosting. As he turned to leave, defeated and fuming, he saw them: Ava and Dylan, walking toward the entrance, hands linked, laughing like lovers lost in their world. They looked like a couple, intimate, carefree. Mark's stomach dropped, jealousy twisting like a knife. He wanted to storm over, confront her for leaving him waiting, for this apparent betrayal. But pride held him back. He slipped into the shadows, watching them disappear inside, his heart hardening.

Ava, oblivious, unlocked her door with Dylan in tow, the evening's joy still buzzing in her veins. "Thanks for tonight," she said, hugging him again at the threshold. "I needed that."

"Anytime," he replied, his hand squeezing hers before letting go. As he left, Ava collapsed on her couch, kicking off her shoes, a content smile on her face. It wasn't until she plugged in her dead phone and saw the missed call dozens from Mark that reality crashed in. "Oh no..." she dropped her phone. I'll call him later. But the high from Dylan lingered, the freedom he'd given her a stark contrast to Mark's routines. Guilt came, but so did a quiet question: Was this what she really wanted?

The city night pressed on, full of unspoken tensions, as Ava drifted to sleep.