Daddy's innocent girl [h.s]

007

Harry has had me come in every day for the past two weeks and do overtime till 11:30pm. But I don't really mind because I get to see his beautiful face and I also get extra cash, I mean I made about an extra $1,000 this past month just from overtime, but I think Harry is over paying me, I mean I don't even have any qualifications yet I still get paid more than my mother.

I bet it's because he wants into my panties.

But tonight is the last night that I work an overtime shift and to be honest I am grateful as it is very hard having to get up in the morning for school when you get home around 12am at night due to working late hours.

I've been giving most of the money I earn to my mom so she can give it to my half brother to pay for his law school fees.

As I walk into my workplace with such grace, clad completely differently to the other female workers, I make my way to Harry's office.

I must one day ask Harry why he likes his employees to dress the same.

It's weird.

Once I reach Harry's office I knock simply while entering.

What I see before my eyes shocks me to the core.

In front of me is a woman with auburn hair riding him while he lays back on his fabric couch that is next to his office desk.

I quickly mumble an apology and back out before shutting the door, but not before hearing,

"Shit! Rosalie, wait!"

I walk as fast as I can in my heels and take the stairs instead of the lift, simply because I don't want to waste any time waiting for a damn lift.

I need to get the hell out of here.

I take a deep breath in as I realise I was holding my breath.

It takes me a good five minutes to reach reception.

As I step out of the building I take a deep breath and wipe away the tear that has so luckily escaped my eye.

Why am I even crying?

What is there to cry about?

Harry is a full grown man and what he does in his own time is his own business, not mine.

But I can't help but think of everything we've done, you know . . . sexually.

It just kinda hurts to see him be intimate with another person.

It doesn't take long for me to break down in the middle of the street hysterically.

I just cannot come to terms with what I saw and it is breaking me into pieces.

I mean, does he do this with every girl he meets?

I'm briefly reminded of what Liam said about his previous PA's and how Harry got bored of them.

Oh God, what if he has gotten bored of me.

No.

I refuse to think that. I push the thoughts out of my mind.

Maybe this is all one big misunderstanding.

Yet I am still crying.

In the next ten minutes I find myself making my way to my Dad's house even though I don't know whether he will be in or not.

I hope that he is and that Mary isn't.

I just can't go home in the state that I am in, my mum didn't work today and I can't bear for her to see me like this, it will just cause hassle.

Within the next hour, I find myself impatiently ringing my Dad's doorbell.

I remember that I must look like a wreck considering the fact that I cried throughout the whole bus journey and I pull out a crumpled up tissue out of my blazer pocket and quickly wipe my eyes and blow my nose.

Before I have the chance to ring the bell again, my Dad appears at the doorway.

"Hey Rosie, what are you doing here?" He asks, clearly surprised by my visit.

Instead of responding, I hug him and break down into his arms.

"Rosie, honey what's up?" My dad says sympathetically.

After being held in his embrace for a few long minutes, I pull away.

"Just boy troubles" I mumble through hiccups.

"Aw baby, come in" He steps aside and lets me in, shutting the door after me.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No, I just came here to get away from it all" I reply

"Okay well, make yourself at home, I'm doing some work from home at the moment, Mary has gone to the hospital for a routine check up on the baby. If you need anything just shout me and I will come" He explains before giving me a brief hug and heading on upstairs.

I try my hardest not to break down crying again but I fail miserably.

Whilst crying and hiccupping I make my way to the spacious kitchen in search of a drink.

My throat is so dry from the amount of crying I have done and lack of water I have had today.

As I open the fridge I look for a fizzy drink but stumble across something completely different.

Alcohol.

I've never really been fond of alcohol, but right now it seems like a good idea.

I just need something to dull the pain, to take the pain away.

I'll only drink a bit.

Yeah, just a bit.

Before I know it, the cap is off of the 1.5 litre of Jack Daniels and the bottle has touched my dry lips and parched mouth.

As soon as I gulp down the alcohol, it stings my throat, burning my vocal chords.

But I don't stop.

I don't remember how, but I realise that the bottle is now empty and I feel extremely weak.

I throw the empty bottle in the trashcan.

My phone vibrates against my body and I take it out.

At this moment, I can just about make out the caller ID.

Harry.

I press decline and go back to the fridge and take out another bottle of Jack Daniels.

The sting isn't so bad this time.

This will take the pain away, I hope.

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