4. Aidan

CHAPTER 4

AIDAN

What the hell? There’s something maddening and downright enticing about a woman bold enough to propose a masquerade on a first date. I find myself chuckling, despite the conflicting storm she continually stirs up in me.

Her stipulation gnaws at my already fractured patience, but as usual, curiosity wins out over irritation. Alright, fairy girl, you want your mask? Let’s play.

It pains me to admit it, but I fucking need help planning this. So, I bite the bullet and dial Asa. It’s a measure of my desperation that I willingly call my married, smitten-with-love little brother to help sort out my plans.

“Hey, asshole!” Asa answers, his voice bright with leftover matrimonial bliss. “Finally come around to taking romantic advice from the expert?”

“Don’t get cocky,” I retort, rubbing a hand over my face, already regretting the decision to call him. “I need to plan a special date, okay? Something that proves I’ve been listening to her.”

“When did you suddenly start listening?” Little fucker is going to make me work for this. “And who’s stupid enough to go out with you?”

“First off, I always listen to you. Then I ignore whatever you said,” I confess, rolling my eyes because I can almost see him flipping me off through the phone. “The matchmaking fairy agreed to go on a date with me if I wear a mask.”

“A mask, huh? Sounds fucking weird.” He just doesn’t understand.

“She doesn’t fully trust me. She’s worried I’m just out to expose her identity.”

“Hasn’t that been your plan all along?” I hate when he’s fucking right. Even worse, I hate to admit it to him.

“It was my plan…” I pause, wondering when the fuck my ultimate goal changed. “Until I got to know her. Now, I just want her. And I have to prove to her my intentions have changed.” Somehow, saying the words out loud cements my determination to make the infamous matchmaker mine. Forever.

There’s a brief pause, and I imagine him tapping his chin in exaggerated contemplation before he sighs. “Think about what would show her you two have things in common. Somewhere that reflects how you see her or where you might share something deeper.”

It’s frustratingly vague, but dammit if he doesn’t have a point. An ingenious idea starts to form. “I think I’ve got just the place,” I murmur, a plan solidifying in my mind.

Asa’s chuckle reverberates through my earpiece. “I don’t even want to know. That way I can claim plausible deniability.”

“When did you start using such big words?” I ask, ending the call before he can respond. Asa’s right. I need to take her to a place that matches the enigma she presents; somewhere masked faces aren’t out of place and anonymity is the very essence of the game. I’ve been to a few functions at The Sterling Rope, the secretive BDSM club in town, but I never considered getting a membership until now.

My mind’s stuck replaying her words on an endless loop. How she said “Daddy,” and the way she owned the fucking word like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It rolled off her lips, meant for just me, with just enough tease to have me imagining all sorts of scenarios I’d never considered before.

I lean back in my chair, the leather creaking in protest as I rub the back of my neck. Wanting to make sure I don’t fuck this up, I spend the better part of the morning looking up "Daddy-baby girl dynamics."

My search history, usually filled with oil prices and efficiency metrics, now paints a vastly different picture. What started as curiosity has become a deep-dive into this lifestyle. Sure, I’ve seen the dynamic in action at The Sterling Rope, but I never had any real interest. Until now. Honestly, I’ve never found a woman who I’d want this with. Until now.

The articles and forums each have a slightly different take on it, but the basics are clear enough. It’s a blend of protection and playfulness that I’d never associated with my gruff demeanor before. And yet, it makes sense in a surprising way.

I find myself thinking back to every interaction with her even though we’ve never actually met. There’s something inherently appealing about the way she’s pushed and pulled, never backing down but never pushing too hard either.

Every click and scroll on the screen bury the idea deeper under my skin. The dynamic appeals to a side of me that’s never seen the light of day. The part wanting to control and protect, and to guide with a firm but gentle hand.

What surprises me most is how right it feels. I mull over each angle and wonder how the hell I got here. My reputation as a foul-mouthed, grumpy bastard hasn’t exactly left room for exploring softer sides. And yet, the little matchmaker pulled it out of me with one word. Daddy.

Taking her to The Sterling Rope is a risk, but I’ll do whatever it takes to convince her my feelings and desires for her are genuine. There’s an unspoken rule at The Sterling Rope: what happens there, stays there. Masks are welcomed and encouraged. It offers the perfect blend of mystery, excitement, and a little bit of edge.

The club’s a refuge for some, a test of limits for others, and it’s frequented by those who understand or crave its particular brand of freedom. If my little matchmaker is going to see the real deal beneath the gruff exterior I’m known for, this is the perfect place. But getting in isn’t just a matter of waltzing through the door.

I pull out my phone and dial Roman Sterling, the club’s owner and an old acquaintance. He picks up in the middle of the second ring, his voice as smooth and calculated as ever.

“Aidan, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Roman’s languid drawl filters through the line, laced with bored amusement that causes me to clench my free hand.

“I need a temporary membership to The Sterling Rope. Friday night,” I reply, cutting straight to the chase. Money and power mean everything in this town, and I know he won’t refuse me.

A pause followed by his chuckle grates on my nerves. “Interesting. I didn’t peg you for one to bring a date to our little den of iniquity.”

“It’s a special case,” I grunt, taking a swig from the bottle of warm beer sitting on the counter in front of me. “You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

“True,” he concedes, the casual mask slipping to reveal business undercurrents. “Alright, you’ve got it. Temporary membership, Friday night. What’s the name of your guest?” Fuck. How is he going to run his usual background check on my anonymous date?

“That’s a little problem.” My lips twist into a wry smile, catching the irony in managing secrets while seeking them. “I’m bringing someone who guards her privacy more than you do.”

“Very well, membership for you and your mystery lady,” he agrees. “Enjoy the night. Just respect and follow the rules. I’ll email you a copy to refresh your memory.”

“Thanks.” I hang up after accomplishing my first goal.

Next, I text my fairy, feeling some of the day’s heaviness dissipate with each tap.

Me

Are you available Friday night for our date?

Her response comes quicker than usual as if she’s been waiting.

Baby Girl

I suppose I could be talked into it. What do you have in mind?

I grin, reveling in her sass and the way it causes my cock to harden, and send back:

Me

It’s a surprise. I’ll pick you up. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe with me.

A pause, longer than the last, and her next text has a hint of playful defiance:

Baby Girl

Do you know how many serial killers say the same thing?

A chuckle escapes me as the urge to spank her ass courses through me. I type back:

Me

Scout’s honor.

Baby Girl

You were never a scout. I’m not ready to give up my address. You have to work for it.

I roll my eyes but feel a grudging respect for her caution. Still, I’m not about to let this go.

Me

I’m jumping through hoops here. Trust me, Baby Girl. Dress in a fancy dress and let me take you out.

There’s a beat before her reply comes through. The three dots flash on the screen and then disappear before coming across again.

Baby Girl

Fine. But you can’t come to my house. YET. I’ll park in the movie theater parking lot and you can pick me up there. It should be packed on a Friday night, and no one will care if a woman in a fancy dress has on a mask.

Me

I don’t give a flying fuck what anyone thinks. I’ll meet you at eight o’clock.

She sends back a thumbs-up emoji and I drop my phone on the counter.

Curiosity burns in my gut as I attempt to figure out how the fuck the shadowed nuisance became the most important thing in the world.

The week crawls by in a blur of mundane meetings and never-ending paperwork, a relentless grind I can’t seem to escape. Each night, I find myself calling my baby girl and exchanging quick-witted banter. Our nightly sparring somehow manages to lift the weight off my shoulders. In fact, I’m having to face facts—I’m fucking addicted to her.

But life has a twisted sense of timing, and Thursday rolls around like a freight train barreling toward me. From the get-go, it’s a charade of chaos at the oil company. The morning starts with an unexpected drop in crude prices, and before I can catch my breath, my phone starts ringing off the hook. I’m slammed into crisis management mode, pacing the hardwood floor of my office, running a hand over my face in frustration.

Then I get a call that pulls a rug from under my feet and leaves a pit in my stomach. An oil rig has gone up in flames, thick smoke curling into the sky like a hellish beacon. At that moment, I’m no longer just the grumpy CEO of Steele Oil who grumbles about board meetings and market trends. I’m a man who’s responsible for others’ lives, and the weight of that hits hard.

I rush to the site, my mind racing as I juggle logistics and the health of the injured crew. Thank God the men got out with severe but non-life-threatening injuries. I’m relieved, but guilt gnaws at me like a feral animal. I should have done something to prevent this. It’s my job to ensure safety on the rigs, and the thought of my men being hurt under my watch is crippling.

After the emergency crew leaves, I stand alone on the edge of the site, surveying the damage, feeling the ash swirl around me like some toxic confetti. I pull out my phone, staring at it like it’s a loaded gun. There’s only one person I want to talk to. My matchmaking fairy has become a surprising anchor in my stormy sea.

I shoot her a text, fingers trembling slightly as I type out my fears.

Me

There was a fire on one of my rigs. Three men were injured.

Fuck. I probably shouldn’t be announcing this to anyone before our PR firm has a chance to do its job, but I need her calming influence right now. So, I quickly add.

Me

It’s not public knowledge yet, so I’m trusting you with this.

I hit send, the anticipation curling in my gut as I wait for her reply. It feels like sharing a piece of myself that I’ve locked away for so long. But there’s a trust forming, even amidst the secrets between us.

Her response comes quicker than I expected.

Baby Girl

I’m so sorry to hear that. Is everyone going to be okay?

Her concern hits me like a warm wave, and I find myself letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Me

They’re going to survive. But it’s my company and my responsibility.

Baby Girl

You’re human, Aidan. You can’t control everything that happens.

Her words slot into place, soothing something deep in my soul.

Me

Doesn’t mean I can’t try. I should have done better.

Baby Girl

Just worrying about shows what a great boss you are. I’m here if you need anything, and I’d never hurt you.

The sincerity in her words washes over and I believe her.

Me

I appreciate that. I don’t like feeling vulnerable.

Baby Girl

You’re pretty hot when you’re vulnerable.

She sends an eye-shaking emoji with the text, and I can’t help but chuckle a little as her text soothes me in a way nothing else could.

Friday passes like a fucking drugged snail. At five on the dot, I rush home to shower and get ready for the most important night of my life.

Why I’m so on edge is a mystery. Yes, I’ve been texting my mystery woman for days now, letting her claw her way under my skin with her sassy words and playful challenges. But I’ve never met her, and I don’t know what to expect beyond the banter we’ve shared. And her insistence on wearing masks only adds to the intrigue that leaves me unnervingly breathless. I choose a small black mask that only covers my eyes since she already fucking knows who I am.

The moment I finally pull into the dim parking lot in front of the movie theater, adrenaline kicks in. I step out of my car and spot a figure in the shadows who immediately steals my breath away. My heart pounds like a jackhammer, and for a fleeting moment, I almost choke on my shock.

She’s standing there in a form-fitting dress that hugs her in all the right places, showcasing her luscious curves. The dress shimmers under the streetlight, and her raven hair cascades like a dark waterfall around her shoulders. Her intricate fairy Halloween mask captivates me the most. The fucking thing shrouds her face in mystery, leaving only her stunning cornflower blue eyes glimmering in the twilight. Those eyes scream mischief and intrigue combined with the air of sass emanating from her like the sweetest perfume.

I’ve seen plenty of beautiful women, but this? This is a whole new level of alluring. I approach her, half-expecting her to dissolve into mist, or worse, vanish completely. “Good Evening, baby girl.”

Her facial expression is obscured by the mask. “Aidan Steele. In the flesh. I like the mask. Very Zorro of you.”

“I’m glad you’re impressed.” I can’t help but smirk even though my insides are churning. The familiarity of her gaze lodges itself into my brain and rattles around, waking up all my nerve endings. Despite it all, she feels oddly familiar, and I shake my head to dismiss the thought.

“Shall we?” She gestures toward my car, her confidence rising like a tide around me.

We make our way to the vehicle, and I open the door for her, still too flustered by her presence. What the hell is wrong with me? The moment she slides into the seat, I can’t help but take in the heady, spicy, floral scent of her. The goddamn intoxicating fragrance wraps around my senses tighter than a straitjacket.

As I pull away from the curb, the silence hanging between us is charged with electricity. I want to say something witty, something to maintain the banter we’ve exchanged over the last few days, but my mind is blank. “You look… stunning,” I finally mutter, the words escaping before I can even process them.

“Thanks! You’re not so bad yourself. You clean up pretty well.” She laughs lightly, and it warms me. Then she leans closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Now, are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

A laugh escapes me, and I realize I’m genuinely amused and so turned the fuck on. “I promise you this evening will be quite memorable. Just keep an open mind.”

“I trust you.” Her voice drops an octave, brimming with sultry sincerity that makes my pulse quicken.

I replay her words in my head, my mouth going dry at the hints of what’s to come. I sense we’re headed somewhere that will strip away our layers and reveal whatever lies hidden beneath.

The drive to The Sterling Rope is spent with bursts of conversation, flirtations, and barbs leaving me craving more of her. As I pull into the club’s discreet entrance, I can feel the nervous flutter of anticipation trembling in intensity.

“Where are we?” She fidgets in her seat as I park behind the non-descript brick building.

“You’ll see.” I hop out and open her door. As I reach down for her hand, I stare into her sparkling blue eyes. “Do you trust me?”