Page 1 of Daddy's Firm Hand

Chapter 1

Iwas a biggirl, doing an important job. I should have been happy.

So why wasn’t I?

My fingers flew across the keys, a staccato rhythm against the soft murmur of the office.

When I’d been a kid, all I’d ever wanted to do was paint and draw. I loved color so much that I used to get in trouble for coloring ineverything. All my schoolwork, even my math homework.

It was kind of a problem.

Today, though, color played almost no role in my life at all. Instead, boring numbers and spreadsheets filled my screen, and filled my life.

I took a sip of coffee. It would likely be the most exciting thing I’d experience all day.

“Gray, gray, gray,” I mumbled.

This wasn't what I dreamed of when I was a kid. Not even close. I glanced at the clock, feeling the squeeze of an approaching deadline.

"The life of an accountant," I muttered under my breath. “is not a colorful one.”

A flutter of unease seized me, and I slid open the bottom drawer of my desk for a quick peek at Geoffrey, my elephant stuffie. His soft, plush form was a stark contrast to the sharp angles and cold surfaces surrounding us. The sight of him, with his gently worn fabric and those comforting button eyes, offered a fleeting escape from the drabness of adulthood. My heart twinged with shame—I wasn't supposed to need such childish comforts at my age.

Even he, though, was gray.

At least he was smiling.

"Hey, Candy, heads up," whispered Janet, a colleague from a neighboring cubicle.

I snapped the drawer shut—almost—and disguised the motion by shuffling papers. Too late. David Peters, a billionaire enigma wrapped in a tailored suit, strode into the office.

He was the owner and Director of PD Finance, the huge company I worked for.

The moment Mr.Peters entered the room, the air seemed to thicken with anticipation. His presence was magnetic, pulling every pair of eyes toward him as he strode confidently across the workspace. The subtle click of his shoes against the tile was a rhythmic reminder of the authority he wielded without uttering a single word.

My pulse quickened.

It wasn’t just that I was scared of him—although I definitely,definitely, was scared of him.

Nope. He got my pulse racing for another reason, too. An embarrassing reason. Whenever he was near me, it felt like I was an animal on heat.

He was, undeniably, the best part of this job—his allure an unexpected reprieve from the monotony of numbers andspreadsheets. Today, like many sweltering afternoons, his shirt was slightly unbuttoned at the top, revealing just a hint of the man beneath the business suit. And those forearms—strong, veined, dusted with dark hair—peeked out from rolled-up sleeves in a way that made my heart race. There was something about the casual display of strength that was undeniably sexy, and I couldn't help but wonder if he knew the effect it had.

Stay cool, Candy, stay cool. He’s going to walk past you like he always does, then you can go to the bathroom and splash cold water on your face like you always do.

Except today, hedidn’twalk past me.

He wasstillcoming my way, his blue eyes fixed on me.

“Miss Kane,” he called out, his voice calm yet somehow filling the space.

A surge of panic shot through me, so intense that my hand, seemingly of its own accord, swept across the desk, sending my coffee cup tumbling. Hot liquid splashed across my work, and a tiny gasp escaped my lips.

"Shit," I squealed, dodging away from the scalding liquid.

Oh no.

Geoffrey.

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