Daddy's Girl: A Daddy Issues Novel by Rebel Wild (books to read for 13 year olds .TXT) 📕

it’s null and void now that he’s dead. How does that work now, by the way? His passing puts a big monkey wrench in your little deal. Does she give back the money? You certainly can’t give back her virginity.”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“I’m just reading from your playbook,” he says. “However it goes, she’s still there, and you still have needs.”

“Part of my needs is taking care of my submissive.”

“I’m sure she’s not the first of your subs to have experienced a tragedy, but that had little to do with you going into the playroom and having your way with them.”

“Those subs were older, more seasoned. They used it to help cope with the tragedy. It’s the opposite now. Sydney’s in no frame of mind for the playroom.”

“She or you?”

“What the hell are you getting at?” I ask him again.

“Just that it seems you’re having trouble processing what happened, more so than Sydney is. From what you’ve told me, she understands her part in what happened as well as your reaction to her goading you to punish her. I must say she knows you well. She knew exactly what it took to set you off.”

He pauses to write something down in his notes.

“I shouldn’t have let it happen that way.”

“I thought she was topping at the time?”

“She was, but she was upset. I shouldn’t have lost control the way I did.”

“So, for that one moment, you are going to continue to hold yourself in purgatory, even though the one who you supposedly wronged doesn’t see it as an offense?”

“I see it as an offense. I am her Dom.”

“She is your submissive, and as such it is her job to safeword if she needs to, is it not?”

“You know why she didn’t safeword. Stop making it sound so simple and stop fucking blaming her.”

“I’m not blaming her. I just think the blame should be evenly distributed, but once again you insist on absolving her and heaping the blame on to yourself. You are making it much too complex. Any other sub—”

“She’s not any other sub,” I say in frustration. “Why do you insist on comparing her?”

“Because you refuse to acknowledge what she is. You say she’s not like the others, but you refuse to define exactly what that means. You won’t go beyond the superficial surface of what you feel for her.”

“I feel nothing for her.”

He drops his pen dramatically on his desk. For the last three days, we’ve been going over this and for the past three days, I refuse to bend. He sits leaning with his index finger on his temple in thought. I believe he has reached his limit with me. He gets up and goes to his bookshelf.

“What are you doing?” I ask him as he sits with his feet cocked up on the side of his desk, thumbing through what looks like a dictionary.

“I’m looking up the word feelings to give you a clear definition.”

“I already know what feelings are.”

“Yet you refuse to acknowledge you have them,” he says, snapping the book closed and sitting up again. “It baffles me that an intelligent man such as yourself takes pride in reading his jurors, yet can’t admit to personal feelings when they are clearly and evidently being paddled on the ass.”

“Sydney is not personal. My submissives are business.”

“Sydney isn’t like your other submissives,” he throws my words back at me. “But if you want her to be, I suggest you stop coddling her and get back to the playroom.”

“Coddling? She is devastated right now. It’s only been three damn days. I’m not going to drag her back to the playroom.”

“Why not?”

“Because… I…”

“Then find a new submissive,” he tells me when I can’t come up with an answer. “One that can better fulfill the terms of the contract.”

“No.”

“Why? It’s just business. Contracts fall apart all the time.”

“I want to make sure she’s all right before we end things. I just can’t abandon her like she doesn’t matter…”

Goddamn it, son of a bitch, I can’t believe I just said that.

“I hate to break it to you, Tristan, but you’ve just shown feelings for her.”

“Fuck you,” I say getting up.

He shakes his head at me as I head for the door. He’s satisfied at proving his point after three damn days.

“Tristan,” he calls after me. “Lie to me but stop lying to yourself.”

“Fuck you.”

I make up my mind to stop seeing Maloney as I drive home. Rarely do I leave his office feeling better than when I came in ever since what happened with Sydney was put on the table to dissect. Admitting feelings won’t change a damn thing. I’m going to end our contract. I’m determined to let her go live the life she deserves.

Maybe if I was younger or if she was older, maybe if I didn’t have so many problems, we could have something deeper, but right now, it just couldn’t work. I should never have started this shit in the first place. The one time I give in to temptation and it screws me over, literally, as Sydney would say. She needs something better than the bullshit I can offer her. Her father’s dead now, so the only thing standing in her way is me, but not for much longer. I’ll give her up, no matter how much it kills me.

His funeral service is in a few days. Mom helped her make all the arrangements. As hard as it was for Sydney to decide on the service, I think she did a wonderful job. We took a drive over to her apartment yesterday to look through some of her dad’s personal effects. It felt strange being in the space she shared with him. The place was well lived in.

“I don’t know what to do with his stuff,” she said, as we looked around the apartment.

There was a set of golf clubs in the corner. I had no idea he played. There was a weird type of fish mounted on the wall and a few hunting trophies