Claimed By A Father And Son
he said, his voice all low and gravelly, like it was made for whispering dirty secrets, “you know why I called you here, Elena?”
I shook my head so fast my hair whipped around, my mouth dry as fuck. “No, sir.” It just slipped out, all polite and shit, because what else do you call a guy like him? But oh man, the way his lips curved into this smirk—it was dangerous, promising all kinds of trouble.
“Don’t call me sir,” he said, pushing off the desk and taking a step closer. I could smell him now—that rich, spicy cologne mixed with something uniquely him, making my head spin. “You can call me Daddy… or Adrian.”