Daddy's Little Angel

Hiring her was my first mistake.

Alina wasn’t just an assistant. She was the daughter of my best friend — the man I’d grown up with, the man who bled out on foreign soil for a flag we both once believed in.

He had dreams of a home, of laughter, of a family And he got them, if only for a while. His wife, Elina, was his college love — soft-spoken, radiant, kind. I had known her too. I knew them both, loved them in my own way. She was a great support to him in those days when I was busy building my own career.

Whereas I was a little different. A man whose ambition was never to find love as it never belonged to me.

I buried myself in ambition. In building the broken company whose responsibility was given to me by my dying father.

He wanted to take his legacy, wanting me to make his company on the global level. The Parker industries was the shell when I joined but in the coming years it had taken a name in the forbes, ranking on the one of the top most companies in the country. I have put my blood and sweat to make what he wanted to do.

My father was a great man for the world, the man, the legend that everybody talks about, but not for me. He was a strict father, a man who never cared about his only child other than his work. My parents got separated early. My mother cheated on my father with his business partner leaving nothing but a shell company in his name. He was so lost that he took his whole anger on me. With time I was built with something ruthless. Cold. Hollow. A man who wasn't afraid of anything except love.

There were multiple women, yes — forgettable, replaceable shadows in the night. They all tried to charm me, make me believe in love but I never wanted to be the man who belonged to anyone, never wanted anything other than fulfilling the needs of my body.

Then came Alina. An innocent girl.

She joined my office, a favor I couldn’t refuse. Her father only had one wish, to take care of his family; he wasn't there with them.

The resume didn’t matter — her bloodline did. I owed her father that much. I never visited his family in those years but one day suddenly I got a call that changed everything. My friend had died, with whom I shared every secret. But that man had forgotten me writing his last letters in my name. He wanted nothing to keep his family safe when he wasn't there for them. So I accepted it, without looking at it.

But the moment Alina walked through the door, something shifted. I had seen her once in teens, wearing small shorts, and a simple t-shirt playing around me, calling me sir, making everyone smile. But now she has changed. She wasn’t the little girl I remembered in school photos. She was a woman. And worse — she was the kind of woman who didn’t even know the power she carried. The woman who can bring any man on her knees, begging to fuck her once in his life and I wanted to be that man. She had taken me to the time when I was in my 20s, getting horny while looking at the woman.

I tried to ignore it, tried to stay professional, tried hard to ignore her sweet scent that brought the forbidden thoughts in my mind, to claim her, to chain her, bind her to the unbreakable bond.

I watched her — not always meaning to, but never really resisting. I studied every glance, every gesture, every breath she took near me. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. It wasn't always intentional. I know there is something that I couldn't resist, couldn't stop thinking.

She haunted me. Every part of her became a thought I couldn’t erase.

Not because she teased it.

Not because she offered it.

But because I took it. In my mind, again and again.

And I hated myself for it.

And still, I craved more. To make her mine, taking her away from the world.

Her innocent eyes didn't know what sins they had committed. She didn't know what monster she had created inside me, who wanted to claim her, wanted to feel every inch of her body near his skin.

I have stalked every post she uploaded on I*******m, with her friends, relatives, memorizing the captions again and again, decoding every face that appeared beside her.

I hired private investigators—dozens of them—to trace every soul who ever touched her. I wanted to know every secret she had, every man who looked at her before me, or dared to trace her soft skin.

I needed to know.

I needed control.

No one was allowed to come between us. Not even her mother.

“Mr. Parker,” my thoughts were interrupted by a sweet voice—the girl who occupies my mind every second. She was looking at me with those innocent eyes. I wanted to take her right there and bend her sexy ass, just for talking with the employee who would be fired in a few minutes.

I didn’t want anybody to look at her, and I knew his eyes kept drifting to her. I had checked those hidden cameras that captured her every move—his eyes were on her ass, and I wanted to punish her, bend her big ass over my desk, letting me spread her open and see, has anybody had ever touched her body or was her virginity still intact, waiting to take my cock inside her hole.

“Yes, Ms. Easton,” I replied.

I really wanted… was to say her name. Softly. Personally. Possessively.

She blushed—just the way she always did when I addressed her. I knew I had an effect on her. I could see how she behaved in front of me, her little cheek getting red and she bit her lips slightly, eyes flickering down before looking back at me, rolling them in playful defiance. I know about her little crush on me, but mine was something deeper, dark and dangerous that could consume her whole.

“Mr. Parker, your new meeting has been rescheduled, as per your request,” she said, her voice calm and professional—but her mouth… that mouth could undo me with a single word.

My name, I thought. Say it when you’re alone. Say it when you think of me. Say it when you're lying in bed. Say it when you touch yourself.

“Thank you, Ms. Easton. You may return to your work.” She nodded and turned, walking to her desk just outside my office. Her bouncy ass swinging in front of my eyes as I kept watching her, unable to tear my eyes away.

Her presence—so close, yet always just out of reach—made me feel everything at once: calm… chaos… desire… possession.

No one else was allowed to look at her like I did. I made sure of that. Every file, every access point, every eye in the building—I watched them all, because she was mine, whether she knew it yet or not.

Her scent still lingered in my office. Soft. Sweet. Intoxicating. I didn’t know if this was just a crush… or something darker. Something deeper. But one thing I knew with certainty:

I wanted her. And I always get what I want.

I kept looking at her as she typed something on her computer. Her pink lips bit down on the pencil, and I could feel an ache inside me. A desire to take control.

I needed a cold shower just to forget about her sweet scent, and to calm down my dick . I had rubbed myself, sitting in her chair for hours after she left the office. This ache is getting worse day by day. But she wasn't at the right age to take such a long dick inside her small hole. Every woman I had been with, wasn't able to process mine for a period, until I got bored with them. But I know she could bound me in something I never expected. I know I did a bad job by listening to her mother.

“Ms Easton I am going to the restroom,” I informed her and she nodded with a small smile. I needed to hide my bones from her.

I went out and took a deep breath. She was a vixen that will be a death of me one day.