“Yes, doesn’t anymore unfortunately…” Mr. Fein’s voice trails off as Mr. Vaughn turns his attention away from me and toward him. “Anyway, can I just say, sir, we were all just overwhelmed with joy and gratitude when you decided to continue on with Daisy’s education here after kindergarten.”
Weston smiles but it doesn’t seem genuine, but rather more hollow. The only time I’ve seen a genuine display of anything remotely human is when he’s with his daughter.
“My pleasure, Rick. I need to get going. Daisy,” he calls to her and she comes running over as Mr. Fein excuses himself and apologizes profusely for interrupting.
It’s kind of pathetic the way he’s pandering to Weston. I wanted to interrupt and say aren’t all of our parents important? Especially the ones who actually care about their kid’s school. But I know with people this wealthy, it’s the politics you have to play.
“You didn’t want to tell him where we met before?” Weston asks, his voice lower as he takes a step closer to me.
“Uh, no. I didn’t think it was pertinent to the conversation.” I clutch the straps of my bag tighter as Daisy preoccupies herself by playing with a toy from her backpack at her father’s feet. My eyes slowly drift up his body, clad completely in black. His black button-down stretches across his chest as he slides his hands into his pockets.
“Thank you for sitting with her. I am very sorry for being so late.”
“Again,” I say, causing a slow grin to tug at his lips.
Wow, guess there is a human inside there after all.
“Yes, again. I can’t promise you it won’t happen again, but I will try to make sure that it doesn’t.”
“It really upset her. She was crying because she was the only student whose parent didn’t pick them up on time.” I try to keep my voice level as he stares down at me.
“Am I being lectured again, Miss Flowers?”
“You know, Mr. Vaughn, someone once told me that time management was a valuable skill. Maybe you too can learn to develop it with a little discipline,” I repeat his words from earlier this week back to him.
His head falls back, a loud laugh erupting from his chest. He pulls one hand from his pocket, bringing it up to run through his thick hair that flops right back into place. “At least you were listening.”
“Yeah.” I smirk. “Although I think when the guy who told it to me said it, he was being a bit of a condescending prick.” I mouth the word so Daisy doesn’t hear it. “But with me, it comes from a place of sincerity and self-reflection.”
He takes a step closer, only a few inches between us now as his smile disappears just as quickly as it appeared. He tilts his head to look down at me, an almost menacing look on his face. “You’ve got a smart little mouth on you, don’t you? I bet that too could be taken care of with a little discipline as well.”
Where the hell did that come from?
I don’t know if he’s threatening me or coming on to me, but my body goes into full-blown panic mode. I feel sweat break out on my forehead. My stomach flips, and my mouth goes completely dry. I know without seeing my reflection that my cheeks are probably glowing red.
“Daisy, time to go,” he says, keeping his eyes on mine for another lingering second.
“Bye, Miss Flowers,” she says as she follows her dad out of the room and around the corner.
“Bye,” I say in a dry croak, lifting my hand slowly to raise it. My hand lowers, resting my fingertips gently against my lips as my body calms down. However, he meant those words, my body only interpreted them one way.
I might have just gotten myself in way over my head by going toe to toe with a man like Weston Vaughn.
4
WESTON
I lean back in my chair after putting Daisy to bed, the city lights dancing far below. I can’t get that look that Miss Flowers gave me out of my head when she talked back to me. She’s feisty. I’d be lying if I said the thought of giving her a little lesson in respect didn’t turn me on.
My hand wanders down my abs, settling on my inner thigh as I close my eyes and imagine a very different outcome of that conversation today. Images of her bent over that desk as I pull her back onto my cock with her hair fill my brain.
Why the hell did I threaten her like that about her smart mouth? Should have kept that thought to myself.
“Fuck,” I groan, my cock already growing stiff remembering the way she trembled beneath my stare, her delicate throat constricting. I stroke myself through my pants, then stop suddenly, reminding myself that this isn’t some random woman that I can take home and never speak to again. Not only is she far too young for me, but I can’t get involved with someone so active in my daughter’s life. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure I’m the last man on earth she would think twice about letting into her bed.
I stand up, walking over to the wet bar to pour myself a few fingers of whiskey before walking to my bedroom, taking the stairs two at a time and retreating to my bathroom to turn on my shower.
I strip out of my clothes, another image of her popping into my head from when she ran into me in Paris. The shock on her face was priceless and I actually had to keep myself from laughing at the way she was pawing at me to try and help. I shake my head as if that will dislodge the memory from my brain. I don’t waste time with the liquor, and I down it in two mouthfuls, the burn rushing down my throat and settling into my chest.
“Get it together,” I remind myself as I walk into the large marble shower.
The last time I felt anything more than sexual desire for someone was my wife Mirabelle. She really was one of those people who lit up a room when she entered it and I’ll forever wonder what she saw in me. It wasn’t the money or the power, things she grew to resent actually. She truly loved me and I felt it every single day… until I didn’t.
Nobody had to tell me she was falling out of love with me; I watched it happen right in front of my eyes, one day at a time, and yet I did nothing to fix it. Instead, I did what pushed her away in the first place; I buried myself even further into my work. By the time she fell ill and we realized that this rare disease had completely taken over her body, it was too late. I tried everything to save her—money, the best doctors in the world, drug trials, specialists—but in the end, none of it could save her.
Daisy was barely two years old when her mother died. It pains me every day that she’ll grow up not even remembering her. I feel the usual pit forming in my stomach that comes along with taking a walk down this memory lane. I close my eyes and let the water wash over me, praying for it to take away the guilt I still feel about all of it. I try to focus my attention back on Miss Flowers, imagining what she’d look like spread bare on my bed, but it doesn’t work. The last thing I need or deserve is a young woman I can use to try and absolve myself of my past sins.
I hurry through my shower, contemplating if I can call the nanny to come stay at the house for a few hours while I reach out to Natalie, a woman I’ve known over the years. Another woman whom I’ve used to distract myself, only she’s the one who came on to me first. We both went into it fully aware of what it was, a physical means to an end after I lost my wife and she got divorced.