Daddy Issues

2. Rupert

2

RUPERT

You need to sell swampland in Florida?

Ask a spy.

Spies are the best salesmen on earth.

I was no longer in the biz, but my current calling benefitted from those so-called “transferable skills” developed as a covert operative over decades. I’d convinced many a person to commit treason against their home country, I sure as hell could swing a deal when purchasing a hovel of a club like Juicy.

But my plan to recruit the asset named Ivy smashed to pieces the spy nickname given to me long ago. They called me “The Tin Man.”

Get it?

If I only had a heart.

Even beneath the horrible dress she was wearing, I detected the finest a*s I’d ever seen.

There was something more about her. Something arresting, irregular. The wispy bangs of her purple wig swept across her forehead. She blew them out of her eyes and an intense sensation flared through me like an enchantment.

At this moment, I was more of a Cowardly Lion than a Tin Man.

What if the girl who unlocked my heart didn’t accept my proposal?

After years of convincing people to sell their own country’s secrets to the U.S., my shell hardened beyond the point of being human.

Or humane.

Putting my finger on an asset’s vulnerability required empathy. Now incapable of ferreting out their weakness, there was no way to exploit it.

Ironically, being an effective spy meant you actually had to care. Towards the end of my career, I’d given caring up for lent.

A permanent and irrevocable lent.

So I got out. Moved to a little-known corner of the world on the Lost Coast of California, and opened an exclusive club for kinksters.

For some reason unfathomable to me, Ivy instead chose this tough and parched land, choked as it was with spiky bushes, rocky terrain and aslither with poisonous snakes.

Club Juicy was befouled with unpleasantry. Something raw glittered in the girl’s pupils when Brad, a piece of pond scum who fancied himself a big deal, crept up on her.

I had my training, my smarts—a plan. In spite of that, I wouldn’t force her to come with me to Briarville. It was time to dig deep and show her I needed to hear all about her concerns.

The damnable thing was, I actually cared.

For the first moment since leaving spy missions behind, I craved a genuine connection. The deal itself I could part with, but leave her here?

Not happening.

Charles, the owner of the grubby business, already signed the paperwork for the bank title.

It was mine.

I could have left Ivy here, raised her salary significantly and improve the quality of her life, and gone on my merry way. But my d**k wasn’t having it.

Instead, I lingered, blaming my desire to peruse the place, get to know it better.

With consternation I realized, as per usual, where my l**t wandered. So did my need to make her feel safe, to gain her trust and ensure nobody hurt her.

Especially no one like Brad the douche bag.

She had yet to take a break and eat dinner. Like a lovesick teenager, I stood in the door of the Little Room. She was picking crayons off the floor, putting books on the shelf, and wiping all the surfaces where the littles had played.

“Can I help you?” She snapped the cleaning rag in the air. “Boss?” Her brows raised to her hairline, and the cheap dress she wore made scratching noises as she tidied up.

I resolved to buy her a new wardrobe at the earliest opportunity.

Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, Tiger.

Go gently.

“I was hoping to be of service to you. You haven’t taken a break all night. You must be starving.” I sat down on a plastic, preschooler sized stool by the table area. Next to it, she’d neatly arranged sketch paper, jars of artist pencils, markers, colored pencils, and pots stuffed with paintbrushes, alongside stacks of panels and canvases.

“I’m listening,” she said. My mouth went completely dry at the prospect of watching her shove food past those plump lips.

“A friend of mine opened up a Hawaiian grill in town, which is drawing a lot of attention. I thought you might want to have dinner with me.” I pleaded softly, practically begging her. One date. A single night with her would be enough. Then I’d finish with this crazy fascination.

An insistent voice spoke up from the doorway, “You should try it out. I heard about the place and it’s supposed to be banging.” The intruder did a half split on the roller skates she wore, extending a foot out in front of her and resting her butt on the heel of the other.

Ivy put her hands up towards me, in a gesture of appeasing the aggressor. “I’m not going anywhere alone with a strange man. No matter how fancy the suit he’s wearing.”

Her expression hardened, and she smeared the back of her fist across her brow, smudging her makeup. I hadn’t even seen this girl’s face and yet I couldn’t stop wondering how her palm would fit in mine.

She lifted her voice at me, “I’ll only go if Gigi comes with us.”

My entire body knotted up. “Deal.” My fists clenched, and I strategized opportunities for getting her alone.

Noah, my driver and all-around right-hand man, squinted, his gaze lit with an inner glow of mischief. “Climb on in, ladies. We headed to a masquerade party tonight?”

He was teasing me and knew very well we were going out to eat at The Lei, a restaurant with over five hundres reviews and a five-star rating in less than two months. We happened to be proceeding with a girl who appeared to be a fairy godmother and the other dressed for the roller derby.

The girls ignored Noah’s remark, Gigi’s gaze lingered on his blazer, which was buttoned tightly across his chest. Honest labor shaped his muscles. Not only did he serve as my main security, but was the force behind completely renovating my club, The Ranch, in Briarville. He’d overseen the restoration of the compound to my exact specifications, improving on them many times over. He was an artist, a builder, and I trusted him with my life. His gentle demeanor made it hard to imagine all the years he worked as a mercenary soldier, but it would be a fatal mistake to consider him harmless.

Ivy was quiet, but Gigi bounced on the seat beside her. “Is this machine all yours? I’ve never ridden in a car so fancy.”

“We rented it for the week,” I explained, catching her eye in the rear-view mirror.

Why had she gone so quiet?

She compulsively stroked her arm beneath the glossy fabric of her dress.

What was she thinking about?

We arrived at our destination. In front of The Lei restaurant, where a small cluster of people gathered in the foyer.

“I’ll park the car, boss, and take care of that thing we discussed earlier.”

Right. The matter of renting Ivy a room so I could bring her with me to the airport tomorrow. It was a plan as far-fetched as stealing a top-secret hologram from the Russians. I pulled that off and should be able to make anyone to do what I wanted.

Which is why I was wrestling so hard with this unfamiliar sensation of uncertainty.

Fear even.

What if she said “No”?

Gigi might have Tigger blood in her body. After the hostess escorted us past the huddle of diners standing by for a table, she sprang herself in tiny hops off the top of the velvet bench seat where we were looking over the menu.

“I can’t wait to try a Mai Tai. Do you think they have those here?” she asked.

“Odds are you can get anything you want in a place like this.” Said Ivy with a pinched expression.

“You’ll destroy your makeup altogether if you keep grimacing.” I folded my arms across my chest to stop myself from reaching out and smoothing the furrows in the white face paint above her brow. The pale, creamy warmth of her skin shone through the cracks where it had worn off, and I longed for a washcloth to wipe her clean of the marring coverage.

Admittedly, watching Ivy gobble down her seared lion paw scallops while remaining dainty in appearance consumed all of my attention for the next twenty minutes. She finished, and dabbed her mouth with the cloth napkin, completely unaware that she had given herself a reverse clown job. The makeup surrounding her lips was gone, leaving behind a down turned oval, and she resembled a comic entertainer.

Her lack of self-consciousness was refreshing. And it caused me to wonder if she’d maintain it in the bedroom.

It made me want to slowly kiss her mouth, down her neck, onto her breasts, and all the way down her body to find out.

The waiter approached, and I was curious if the girls had tried to enter without me. Could he have maintained his demeanor of being the epitome of politeness? “Any dessert for you ladies?”

Ivy darted her eyes to me, as if asking permission, and it pained me.

“You’ve both had a long day. I’m sure your appetites are famished.”

“Do you have chocolate mousse?” The tiny tigress on skates ricocheted off of her seat once more.

The server stared at her wide-eyed, “We have a dark chocolate cake filled with chocolate mousse and covered with semi-sweet chocolate ganache. It’s a transformative experience.”

“I really want to kiss you right now.” Gigi told him.

“Don’t give me any ideas,” he replied. “I’d like to keep my job.”

I looked at Ivy, who sat resembling a wilted flower next to her friend, and realized if this were an operation, I’d refuse to take it on. These two were too messy to control. But I no longer lived in the realm of mission impossible. I could afford to go out on a limb. No one’s life was at risk.

If I were honest with myself, my motives were far from pure.

Ivy fascinated me like no other female. Her effect on me was unprecedented, and I’d convince her to let me take care of everything.

She’d tell me all about what kept her scrubbing at her sleeves.

Even if I had to bend her over my lap and s***k it out of her.