Page 22 of Her Possessive Daddies

"That settles it, then." Seth sets his tablet down on the table with a firm clap. "I'm going with you."

"Oh no. Absolutely not." I gather my papers from the conference table. "You'll scare her off."

"Me?" Seth presses a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I'm a hellish delight. Besides, I need to meet the woman who's got you checking your phone every two seconds."

"Your version of 'delight' usually involves inappropriate questions and borderline harassment."

"Come on." He trails me to my office. "I'll be on my best behavior. Scout's honor."

"You were never a scout. Not then, not now."

"Details." He drops into the chair opposite my desk. "What are you afraid of? That I'll tell her about the time you drunk-dialed the CEO of Microsoft?"

"That was fifteen years ago."

"And it's still hilarious." Seth leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Look, we own the place. It's perfectly reasonable for both partners to check in on a Saturday night."

I loosen my tie, considering. "I swear to god, If you embarrass me-"

"I would never." His grin widens. "Much."

"Seth."

"Fine." He holds up his hands in surrender. "I promise to be a perfect gentleman. No embarrassing stories. No inappropriate questions. Just a casual drink at our establishment while I observe what's got my best friend acting like a lovesick puppy."

"I do not act like-"

"It's a date. Saturday night." He stands, straightening his jacket. "Though not literally, since you'll be too busy making eyes at the hot bartender."

"Get out of my office."

His laughter echoes down the hall as he leaves. I check my phone, finding another message from Abbie.

Just aced my psych exam.

My reply is immediate:Really proud of you.

Awww……thanks, Dad

Why am I getting turned on at the though of her calling me “Dad”? The thought of her in a subservient position does funny things to my pants. The weekend can’t come soon enough.

11

ABBIE

The fluorescent lights of the classroom flicker as I shove my untouched textbook into my bag. Notifications again - another text from Corey. My stomach does that weird flip thing it's been doing every time his name pops up on my screen.

"Miss Stiles?" Professor Warren's voice breaks through my daze. "Did you have any questions about tonight's lecture?"

"Oh, um..." I flush, embarassed. I can't remember a single thing he said in the past two hours. "No, I think I got it all."

My phone goes off again. I try not to check it immediately.

"Are you sure? You seemed... distracted tonight."

"Just tired from work," I lie, shouldering my bag. The truth is, I've been too busy exchanging messages with Corey about everything and nothing - his morning coffee preference (black, no sugar), his thoughts on true crime podcasts (overrated), whether pineapple belongs on pizza (absolutely not).

In the hallway, I finally pull out my phone, seeing a text from him.

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