Still My Daddy: The Billionaire's Dirty Little Secret.

Layla

My mother had been divorced for eleven days when she asked me to help her find out who her husband had been cheating with.

If only she knew she'd been sitting beside the woman she was looking for the entire time.

“I just know there's another woman.” Mom gulped down the last of her wine.

“Well, you can't be too sure.” I patted her back, though I knew better.

“I know what I'm talking about, Layla. I don't need it printed in the newspaper to know my husband was cheating.” She wiped beneath her eyes and sighed.

“Okay, I'm here with more drinks and emotional support.” Aunt Victoria—or Aunt Vicky, as we called her—stepped into the living room with a bottle of red wine and a bottle of vodka.

Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she strutted toward us. Honestly, I had no idea why she got dressed up. It's not like we were going anywhere.

“I have absolutely no idea why you're bawling your eyes over a man.” She set the drinks down on the glass table and poured herself a glass.

“Or have you forgotten this entire marriage was a contract with an expiration date? It was meant to end sooner or later.” She poured another glass and handed it to Mom.

“Anyway, enough crying over a man who clearly wasn't worth the tears.”

Mom said nothing. She only stared into her wine and swirled it slowly.

She clearly wasn't over him.

Sometimes, it felt like she was still waiting for Gideon to walk through the front door and tell her that everything had been a mistake.

I couldn't blame her. If only she knew the truth, she probably wouldn't be sitting here grieving her marriage.

She'd be looking at me differently.

The thought was enough to make the guilt twist painfully in my stomach.

“You don't understand, Victoria. I thought we had something, but… clearly I was wrong.”

“Clearly? Girl, men will always be men.”

“Drink?” She extended a glass toward me, and I shook my head.

“No, thank you.” I wasn't interested in getting tipsy tonight because I had a special appointment with her ex-husband.

I'd been waiting for Gideon's reply for almost an hour, and my phone finally pinged on my lap.

*No.*

I'd asked if he was at home, and his reply was no.

I knew he was lying. He's always at home at this hour. He didn't want me to come over. And lucky for him, I don't take no for an answer.

I rubbed my thumb over the edge of my phone absentmindedly. I hated myself for what I'd done to Mom, but guilt had never been enough to make me leave Gideon.

He made me feel seen in a way I hadn't realized I needed. And maybe the worst part wasn't that I loved him. I just… loved who I became when I was with him.

“Am I right, Layla?” Aunt Vicky asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Hmmm?”

“That men aren't worth losing sleep over.”

I forced a small smile. “Yeah. Sure.”

“See, she gets it.” She took a sip of her drink. “Now go wear something nice. We leave in thirty.”

“Where are we going?” Mom asked.

“We're going to the lounge.”

“Tonight?” Mom asked, surprised.

“Yes, tonight. Before you drink the entire cabinet. Let's go get some fresh air.” She chirped.

Thirty minutes later, Mom came out in a fitted dress and low heels. The light makeup she'd applied did its best to hide her puffy eyes. Though she looked a bit better than before.

Now I understood why Aunt Vicky had been dressed earlier.

“You okay?” Mom asked me as she adjusted the strap of her purse.

“Yeah.” I replied.

“You've been quiet.”

“I'm just… tired. That's all.”

She studied my face for a second before probing again. “You're sure?”

“I'm sure.” I nodded with a tight smile.

I watched their car disappear down the driveway before stepping away from the window. I waited another five minutes before grabbing my phone from the couch and heading out.

The sun had begun to retreat as I made my way to Gideon's mansion. I didn't bother with the main entrance as I made my way toward the back gate. It had a keypad, but I didn't need to look at it anymore. I memorized the code months ago.

I quietly slipped into Gideon's wing—the main residential wing. The second wing was empty, just another ridiculous part of his enormous house.

I padded softly through the quiet hallway as I searched for him. I didn't want to call him. I wanted it to be a surprise, even though he'd strictly told me not to come.

I found him in his study after a few minutes. He was sitting behind his desk, his sleeves rolled up, with a glass of whiskey beside his laptop.

He looked up the moment I stepped inside, and I hated how good he looked after a long day. His dark hair was slightly messy, his shirt was open at the collar, and his sleeves were rolled high enough to expose his forearms.

My eyes lingered on his hands before he noticed me. “I told you not to come, Layla.” I closed the door behind me.

“I know.” I said with a smile. “But you know I was never very good at listening to you.”

I walked straight toward him and sat on his desk, close to his laptop. He pretended not to notice me as he typed something.

“You're distracting me, Layla.” He murmured.

“That means my plan is working.” I whispered before tugging lightly at his shirt collar.

It hadn't been long since he'd gotten back from work. His tie was loosened, his sleeves were already rolled up, and the top button of his shirt was undone.

I stared at him for a few seconds, but he continued typing.

Then I reached over and closed his laptop. “Layla!”

“Now you're looking at me.” I smiled and settled onto his lap before he could stop me. I settled across his lap, one leg on either side of his thighs, facing him as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“You really don't listen, do you?” He held me firmly between his broad chest and his desk.

“I wanted to see you.” I said softly before wrapping my arms around him. “I've missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He murmured. “But it's getting late. Your mother would be worried.”

“She went to a lounge or something with her friend.”

“Victoria?” he asked.

I nodded as I wrapped my arms around him in a hug. My head was against his chest, and I felt the steady beat of his heart.

“Layla, this can't keep happening. You can't keep coming here.”

“Why?” I whined.

“Because you're making this harder than it already is.”

“Yeah, right.” I lifted my head from his chest so I could look into his dark eyes. “The last time I tried to keep my distance, you called me back.”

“I was drunk.” He muttered.

“That's not an excuse.” I smiled. “You like me, but you don't want to admit it.”

A small huff escaped him as his gaze dropped to my lips before he forced it back up.

I saw the resistance flash behind his eyes as I leaned in closer.

“Don't push me away.” I whispered, our breaths mingling.

He held still for one more second before closing the distance.

His mouth was warm from the whiskey, and I could taste the faint burn of it as he kissed me softly.

One of his hands rose to the side of my neck, his thumb brushing just beneath my jaw as if reminding himself to keep it gentle.

He pulled back first, resting his forehead against mine, our breaths coming out choppy.

He held my head as he pressed my face against his chest, holding me tight before kissing the top of my head.

I breathed in the warm scent of his cologne mixed with whiskey as he continued typing.

“You're hard.” I blurted out against his chest.

“No I'm not.”

“Don’t lie to me. I can feel you.” Before he could reply I reached between us and grabbed the outline of his hard cock. He instantly sucked in a breath.

“See.” I added.

“Layla, stop it.” He choked out.

“Why?” I squeezed him gently through the jeans, feeling him twitch in my hand. “You’re clearly hard and you’re still trying to lie about it.”

His hand shot down and wrapped around my wrist, but he didn’t pull me away. His breathing had gone heavier.

“You should stop,” he said, voice strained.

I looked up at him, still holding him. “Do you want me to take it out… or should I just leave you like this?”

He stared at me for a second, as his thumb brushed over the inside of my wrist.

“That’s not up to me,” he said in a low voice. “It’s up to you.” I didn’t move my hand, just kept looking at him.

“Tell me what you want,” I whispered. He let out a slow breath, like he was fighting himself.

“I want you,” he admitted. “But only if you say yes. I’m not taking anything you don’t give me.”

I held his gaze for a moment, feeling him still hard and heavy in my hand. Then I slowly let go and rested my palm flat against his chest instead.

“I would have.... but I'm still sore from the last time,” I said quietly. “I just want to stay like this.”

For a second he didn’t move. Then his arms came around me, one hand settled on the back of my head, while the other was firm on my waist as he pulled me closer.

He let out a long breath against my hair, like he’d been holding it in.

“Okay,” he murmured.

I tucked my face back into his neck, listening to the steady thump of his heart. He was still hard beneath me, but he didn’t push for more. He just held me, thumb slowly stroking up and down my spine.

We stayed like that for a while. The only sounds in the study were our breathing and the faint tick of the clock on the wall. A few minutes later, a sharp ring disrupted our peace and quiet.

It was his phone.

He reached for it, and the second he saw the screen, his body went stiff.

“Hello?”

His voice was low, and his hand, which had been resting against my back, tightened.

“What do you mean she's gone?” I watched the color drain from his face as he listened to the other person.

“When did it happen?” His jaw flexed.

“Send me the details. I'll take him.” He ended the call and simply sat there, staring at the phone.

I straightened slowly. “What happened?”

“Go home, Layla.” He didn't look at me when he spoke.

“But…”

“I said go home.” The words came out sharp as he stood abruptly, pulling me up with him.

His hands were steady when he fixed the collar of my top, but his eyes still wouldn't meet mine.

He pressed a brief kiss to my forehead and stepped back.

“Text me when you're inside.” I opened my mouth to ask again, but the look he gave me stopped me.

I didn't know what had happened, but I knew one thing. Whatever that call was about, Gideon had changed.