Page 111 of Big Daddy Christmas
Aria smiled as she ran her fingers over the package. It was so like her dad to remember someone’s new hyperfixation food and ensure it was kept on hand. He’d been the same with her, growing up. All she had to do was mention something offhand and the next time she came to visit, there it was. A new poster of her favorite band for her bedroom, a food she’d said she’d liked in the kitchen, a book she’d paused to look at in the store sitting on her bedside table.
Another little prickle of guilt niggled at her as she closed the doors to the armoire and eyed its mate on the other side of the desk. Braden Elliott had never denied his daughter anything unless he had a damn good reason. Which meant he had a good reason for not letting her into his club, or at least what he thought was a good reason.
So maybe she should have listened. Maybe she shouldn’t actually be here.
But it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right for everyone else to get to know the secrets his club held. Just because she happened to be his daughter didn’t mean she shouldn’t be allowed to at least test the waters and see if she was interested in… all of this.
Wandering over to the other armoire, she stared at the closed doors. Ivy hadn’t said anything about this one, which meant there was probably something in there she wasn’t meant to see. Something her father wouldn’t want her to see. But she’d already come this far, already broken so many of his rules to be here.
What was one more?
Nerves and curiosity warred in her stomach as she pulled the doors open—and froze.
Canes, straps, paddles and other implements in various sizes all hung inside the armoire, waiting for use. Reaching out with fingers that suddenly trembled too much for her liking, she ran a hand down a leather strap much like the one Beckett had been using on Ruby downstairs.
She couldn’t picture her dad using these things on Lottie. Her father, who’d never raised a hand to her and rarely even raised his voice, hitting the woman he loved? Leaving bruises on her—because there was no way these things didn’t leave marks, she’d seen the state of Ruby’s ass —making her cry, enforcing his will through pain and intimidation?
Unsettled now, she shut the doors and turned her back on the armoire to wander the office. Her dad adored Lottie. Worshiped her, even. Aria had seen the way he looked at her, like she was his whole world. And she’d seen Lottie pout and wheedle her way into getting pretty much anything she wanted, while her father pretended to sigh and scowl over how much she spent on things.
It was difficult to reconcile that version of her father with a man who enjoyed hurting sweet, bubbly Lottie.
There must be more to it, something she couldn’t imagine on her own.
Which brought her full circle to her need to find out for herself.
Restless, and frustrated with it, she turned toward the office door. Maybe she’d go get herself a glass of wine, take a peek over the railing to see what she could see from the second floor.
Or maybe not, since her uncles were still down there with their wives.
Ew.
No, better all the way around to just get the wine and have herself a good sulk while she waited for Ivy to return.
Chapter 3
Killian
Beckett was no longer having his go at poor Ruby. Judging by the shift of sounds, it was Cordelia taking the stage now, and he wondered vaguely if she was letting Ivy help her top their boy or if she was having her fun with both of them.
A toss-up really, where those three were concerned, and Killian smiled into his drink at the thought of Cordelia teasing her sweet Ivy with the possibilities.
“Well, well. What do we have here?”
Pausing with his glass still hovering near his mouth, Killian turned toward the voice.
And nearly fumbled his whiskey.
Dark hair spilled down in soft curls around a face more suited for the silver screen than a dimly lit bar in South Carolina. High, slashing cheekbones, full lips, and a nose that would have been any plastic surgeon’s crowning glory if it hadn’t been slightly crooked.
The flaw only made her more appealing. Everything about her screamed quiet wealth, but she hadn’t bothered to fix her nose. Why?
He wanted to know, and the wanting surprised him more than her presence which was a shock in and of itself.
“Hello.”
Her lips, painted a brilliant red he imagined would look rather lovely wrapped around his cock, curved upward. “Hello. Who might you be?”
So she didn’t know him. Which meant she wasn’t a member of the club. One of Lottie’s many bridesmaids, maybe, if the emerald silk clinging to her full curves was anything to judge by. Unfortunately for him, he had no clue who else Lottie had included in her bridal party outside of the women from the club.
