15. Saul

Chapter fifteen

Saul

I had no intention of being anyone's Daddy, or should I say anyone else's Daddy, but by Wednesday of the following week I was getting a little stir-crazy. The Florida team—I had found out—was a bunch of ex-Marines like me but who happened to be billionaires at the same time. The head guy—Gideon—offered me a job, which I knew I should have accepted but the one thing that was still stopping me getting the hell out of the area was Calvin.

I certainly didn't have anything else keeping me here. I'd brushed Chris off when I'd come back from Florida, and he'd clearly decided to leave me to Ricky.

I'd had another email from Ricky this morning, practically begging me to escort a new client to an environmental awards dinner.

And at the bottom of the email was the hashtag Operation Daddy , which I assumed had something to do with Calvin, but I didn't see how. The client, Emily Christian, had picked me out from a list of bodyguard possibilities, and Ricky was convinced she was a Little. I was told I had to be discreet. No shit. I doubted she'd want any pics of her with a binkie.

But could I do it? All I'd wanted was to be Calvin's Daddy and look how that had turned out. Maybe it was because I was crap at it. Maybe if I'd known what I was doing, Calvin would be right here in my arms.

Which got me thinking. I was pretty sure there was no such thing as Daddy training, but what if there was? Chris was still on my shit list, but what if I asked him to take me to his club? Assuming he still went to one, that was. So as a suitable distraction I spent an hour coming up with Daddy/Little workarounds when it couldn't be obvious, like with this job. With a huge sigh, because I needed to get out of my head, I texted Ricky and told him to send me the file, but I wasn't committing to anything until I'd read it. She could be a spoiled bitch who just wanted a Daddy as an accessory.

But, since all I was doing was moping around wondering if Calvin was ever going to call me, I figured it didn't hurt to read the file.

I was wrong, well, about Emily anyway. Thanks to Ricky's notes, I learned Emily Christian was a genius. Her IQ put her in something like the top two percent of the population, but her crippling social anxiety made everything impossible except burying herself in research in her inadequate home lab. She'd made huge strides toward some formula that, if successful, could use geoengineering to combat global warming. A team at Harvard was working on the same thing and had begged her to come use their facilities to prove it. But she couldn't.

In an effort to help, her dad had come up with a controlled socialization plan after years of failed therapy with every expert on the planet.

Apparently, she'd refused to see anyone until she'd seen the picture of me holding Calvin. After reading all that, I felt if I didn't go it would be like kicking a puppy.

I made sure to arrive early. Some guy in a suit greeted me saying exactly that, but I calmly told him I had plenty of time and now Ms. Christian wouldn't be in any doubt that I wouldn't show or would be late. She could get herself ready in peace. I clocked the quick nod of respect, and barely waited five minutes until Clive Christian hurried into the room, fumbling with his tie. "Sorry. Have you been offered a drink? Damn tie," he muttered, his hands shaking. "Oh, I'm Clive Christian, by the way." He reached out a hand and, in his hurry, he nearly tripped. But we shook hands, and I wondered if any of Emily's therapists had ever considered separating the two of them.

I introduced myself and watched him for a good five minutes before I interrupted. "Sir, are you to accompany us tonight?"

He stopped his flustered fumbling in shock. "Of course." He winced. "Honestly, I'm not a fan of these type of events, but my daughter needs me."

I nodded. "Have you considered that a protective presence at home might work instead?"

He frowned. "We haven't ever needed security. I'm not exactly a millionaire."

"No, Sir, I mean if your daughter knew she had you to come home to. Her anchor, so to speak."

"I don't understand." He bristled as if I was offending him.

"I imagine your daughter loves you very much," he said, and Clive Christian flushed.

"It's been hard since her twin and her mom died in the accident." I knew from the file there had been a huge car accident when both girls were seven, and both Emily's mom and her twin sister Erica had died. Clive Christian had been unharmed, but Emily had needed nine operations to mend her spine and legs.

I knew guilt was eating away at her dad because he had been the driver, even though it wasn't his fault, and his guilt might mean Emily was trying to manage both her own issues and her father's. I was also sure that people a lot cleverer than I, had already worked this out but here we were. Neither of them was listening.

"What I'm suggesting, Sir, is that you stay here." Clive Christian looked at me as if I had in fact suggested he eat a bag of worms. "Shake things up a bit?" I added.

And all the fight seemed to leave him. "You think it's my fault. Others have said that."

"No, I don't agree. I think you are an amazing anchor for her, but she needs you at home. She needs to know you aren't an additional worry for her. Because it will be in her nature to want to protect you." I paused. "She's already lost her mom, if she knows you're here and safe, it may lessen her anxiety." Or it could make it worse, but I didn't think at that point they had anything to lose.

He stared at me for a long time. "If you can get her to say yes then I will concede." He didn't sound like he had any confidence in the idea, and he was probably right. Who the hell was I to think I knew best?

"Daddy's not coming?" I'd been shown into a small lounge area that seemed to be part of her rooms. I looked around approvingly, knowing Calvin would like this room. Small and cozy, it had three squishy beanbags in the corner, a little writing desk, and rows and rows of books, and most of them three-inch-thick science ones. I spotted the coloring ones immediately, tucked away at the bottom, but only because I was looking for them, and wondered if Calvin had some.

I gazed at this Little. She wasn't short like Calvin but looked like she was going to disappear any moment because she was so waif-like. She had this dress on that looked like something May-belle from Rainbow Key would wear and she looked utterly terrified. "No, because he wants to be waiting here for you when you get home."

"Oh," she whispered, then cringed as if she was going to get into trouble somehow for uttering that tiny whisper. I thought about Ricky's conviction that she was a Little, and Calvin's Tiny, and so, wondering if Emily had the same, I took a chance. "My boyfriend has a favorite stuffy called Tiny," I lied. Well, the Tiny part wasn't a lie. It was the boyfriend part I was beginning to think wasn't ever going to happen. "What about you?" I asked as gently as I could. I must have surprised her because the fact that she actually answered seemed to shock the both of us.

"Marmy," she whispered.

I nodded and smiled. "Him or her?"

"Her," she said in complete disbelief. Maybe it was I because I was asking the questions in the first place. Maybe it was because she dared to answer them.

"Can I see her?"

Emily gaped at me like I'd asked her to jump off the Empire State or something. I waited patiently but then she turned and walked through another door. I didn't follow her because I guessed it was her bedroom, but she was back in a few seconds clutching a well-loved rabbit to her chest. I smiled, but the rabbit was too big to fit into my pocket and the purse she had was tiny.

"And does Marmy have any baby brothers or sisters?"

Emily nodded, shot through the other door again, and came back with a key ring with a tiny pink rabbit fastened to it. "What's her name?"

"Baby," Emily whispered.

"Well then," I said, taking Baby from her and popping it in my pocket. "Baby's going to stay safe in my pocket, and you're going to stay safe with me. Whenever we're sitting down you can cuddle her out of sight and if I have her and you hold onto me, it's like you're touching her." I offered her my elbow and waited. Emily took my arm. I wasn't sure which one of us was more surprised.

The morning after I had returned a smiling Emily home, I'd spent most of a wakeful night staring at yet another email from Ricky. Did he sleep with his phone? If he was mine, I'd have taken it from him.

And I stilled. Would I? Every instinct in me said yes. No Little of mine would be getting that much screen time. There were still many scientists that hadn't quashed the possible damage to the brain. I read the email in surprise. Ricky seemed to be wanting my input on interview questions, but surely he had Chris to ask for advice?

I read them and huffed. Every Little was different, and there was no way I would have spanked Emily. That wasn't my job. I glanced at the bottom of the screen and noted the usual hashtag and thought long and hard about my life.

I knew what I wanted, but more so I knew exactly what Calvin needed. It had been a crazy situation all weekend. If he was mine there was no way I'd have asked him so many dumb questions or let him get away with half the shit he had done. I'd stormed out of there on Sunday like some teenager. No wonder Calvin didn't trust me enough to pick up the phone. If I was his proper Daddy like I wanted to be…

I looked back at the questions and smiled, then I texted Ricky for an address. I'd do this then I was getting in my truck.

Calvin

I sat frozen, staring at my laptop, and after a moment glanced at Ricky who was facetiming me on my phone. "How did you get this?"

"The venue?" He shrugged. "Well, actually it was Mickey." He grinned. "And I don't mean the mouse. I mean Daddy's computer expert slash hacker. She's amazing."

I gazed back at the screen. I knew who the Little was and on paper everything was good, but I wasn't expecting to see Saul like this. He was perfect as a Daddy. Emily hadn't been left alone for a second, and I was so jealous I wanted to rage. Saul had even gone into the women's restroom and made sure it was safe for her before she entered.

The expressions on the faces of the three women who had run out after Saul had gone in were funny, or they would have been if I hadn't been wishing it was me Saul was clearing the way for. It might have been if I hadn't thrown my chance away.

It had been the longest two and a half weeks of my life. My boss Sharon had been stunned when I'd handed in my notice a week after the wedding, but Christopher had called and begged me to move closer after Ricky's business idea had exploded, since Christopher didn't have time to run it with him. They had a room we could use as an office, and I was going to stay with them while I decided what to do. I had adored my job, but I wasn't silly enough not to know it was a coping mechanism. I'd been convinced it was the best job in the world because it let me pretend to be a Little. And, well, now I wanted the real thing.

But I didn't know exactly what I wanted the real thing to look like. Something I couldn't have, definitely. But I didn't want to be on my own anymore and now that Steven and I were well and truly over, I didn't have to stay here. And if the business was going to be as much of a success as Ricky was convinced it was, then I could afford to live closer.

"I also sent him the list we made for the perfect Daddy. I thought it was something we could use as part of the interview process. I've already got thirteen applicants."

"You sent who a list?" I asked but I already knew. "Wouldn't Christopher be able—"

"Absolutely, but my Daddy won't be escorting any Littles so I thought it would be a good idea to get Saul's opinion."

"He's going to do it?" How could I be anywhere near him and not have my heart broken seeing him do for others what I wanted for myself? Even if it was a little late for that.

Ricky pressed some buttons, and I opened the attachment that he sent me. He'd curbed it a little, thank goodness, from what he'd suggested before. But now it came with handwritten alterations.

Daddy Characteristics.

1.Extremely possessive and devoted.

It was crossed out and now read "Would unalive any threat." I gulped. Ricky giggled, knowing what I'd just read.

2.Be involved in every aspect of their Little's daily lives.

That was also crossed out and changed to "Is in charge of every second of their Little's waking and sleeping moments, including scheduling proper naps and play time." My mouth fell open.

3.Will agree on rules beforehand and consequences of breaking them.

He'd also crossed that out completely and added "Safe word established. Unless the Little uses it, every infraction will involve the Daddy's hand meeting the Little's ass."

My own ass tingled. I hadn't been punished that weekend, and I knew I'd deserved it. I stared at the screen for a very long moment, knowing every word he'd said was perfect.

"Well?"

A quick glance at my phone showed Ricky beaming at me. "I thought you said he'd quit." That might have come out a little sulkily.

"He did," Ricky agreed, "but I begged him to do this job for us."

"Us?" I asked weakly. "Does Saul know I'm moving?"

Ricky shrugged just as there was a knock on the door. "I have to go, it's my pizza." Ricky blew me a kiss and said he couldn't wait to see me tomorrow. I got up and trudged to the door, grabbing my wallet, opened it, and gaped.

Saul was standing on the step scowling at me. "You don't have a camera, and you didn't even ask who it was before you opened the door," he said, stepping right past me. He turned around because I hadn't moved or answered him. "Maybe if you behave and don't do it again, I'll keep your punishment light." He watched me carefully. "Or maybe we should get this spanking out of the way now, so you can start with a clean slate?"

I still didn't move. Maybe I was asleep or maybe the leak from the apartment upstairs had finally made the ceiling fall in while I was in bed, and I'd been buried under a bath. He arched an eyebrow.

My lips parted of their own accord. "Saul, what—"

"You're really racking them up, huh? I think you want to feel my hand warm your ass."

I shivered, because yes, yes, I really did. But punishment? "I—what?" What else had I done?

He prowled back to me and closed the door, locking it. Then he took me by the hand and walked into my mostly empty bedroom, took in the pile of boxes, and then, turning, drew me into his strong arms.

"We're going to sort all our rules out, baby, but the first one is my name."

"Your name?" I mumbled, my face pressed into his shirt, trying to take in delicious lungsful of his scent.

"Yep," he said and swatted my ass none too gently. "If I ever hear you call me anything but Daddy, you're not going to be able to sit down for a week. Is that clear?" I nodded because either it was a dream, or I was dead under a bath, and it didn't matter.

"Words," he rumbled.

"Yes, Daddy," I sighed as the tingle from his hand seemed to spread to other places.

"Good boy."