Patrick stared back at me through the screen on my iPhone, his tired but clearly amused face was irking me as I told him about my run-in with Maritza that morning.
"It's not funny," I snapped.
The connection stuttered a bit and froze as he moved around. "Kitten, it's not the end of the world, she's always mad at him as it is. I don't think adding you to her shit list makes any difference," he replied with a smirk.
That's not the point! "I'm not worried about Maritza, I'm worried that she's going to talk to her mother and once I go back to Queens, I'm going to have a very mad wife on my doorstep with a shotgun."
"They're separated," he offered with a shrug, the smirk still there as he tried not to blatantly laugh. "Jon's dated before, it's not like it's anything new to either of them. I think you're paranoid."
I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the bathroom counter. I was locked in the women's washroom on the ground floor since I tried to avoid being alone with Jon, my embarrassment hadn't gone away, and I felt incredibly guilty about the whole thing. "If you found out your mother was seeing a man younger than you, how would you feel?"
He snorted with surprised laughter and took a while to respond. "My mother is a sixty-year-old lesbian, I would immediately assume that she had severe dementia and move her into my apartment," he replied after taking a sip of his water. He settled down onto his bed and I watched him flick several of the lights out. "However, if I woke up and found out my mother was dating a woman that was thirty-five? I would probably think 'damn, good for her', I'd also worry that her new girlfriend was a gold-digger, but I think that just comes with the territory."
"That's just as bad," I grumbled to myself. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair as I stared at the metal doors to the stalls, one light above me was flickering and it wasn't helping my budding migraine.
"I have to go, baby, I'm dead tired. Email or text me and I'll see if I can try to Skype you again tonight, okay?" Patrick asked after a long yawn.
Butterflies swirled in my stomach as I watched him rub his face sleepily. "Okay, goodnight."
"Goodnight, I love you."
My response was instant, "I love you, too." I almost whispered it while I watched him settle in, just as he registered what I said he sat bolt upright and stared at the screen with wide eyes.
"Come again?"
I smirked as I watched him gape in shock before his expression morphed into that of wonder. "Sorry, I think I'm losing my signal – sleep well!" I waved, hit the end button and giggled as I watched his number flash across my screen again. I hit ignore without a second thought and turned to fix my makeup. My phone vibrated and I glanced down to see a text from him.
11:29 AM Pat
I can't wait to hear that in person. I love you, Dia. And because you ignored my call, I'll make sure Jon works you over with the crop – have a good day.
My cheeks burned as I stared down at the messaged, I wanted to tell him in person first, but that was as good of a time as any. Why did he call me Dia? Only my close friends did that, and even then, it was mostly just Allie. Where did he even hear that? Whatever. I pushed the thought away and went back to touching up my deep burgundy lipstick. I tried to make myself look older today, dark silvers and grays around my eyes, swooping pitch-black eyeliner, and a dramatic lip. My outfit matched my attitude, a dark green velvet skater dress, with a plunging V neckline, mostly sheer black tights, and black platform Louboutin's. I fluffed my curls a bit before taking a deep breath and grabbing the folio beside me.
The office was busy today, there were a surprising amount of people actually in the building instead of in and out of courtrooms. Jon was spending the majority of his day on the phone trying to do some damage control, and I was finding busy work - the little things the secretaries normally did, like responding to general inquiries, calling clients back to reschedule meetings, and cleaning up Patrick's email every five minutes. The man hadn't deleted an email since 2010 and was still getting emails from clients that weren't even his anymore, they just added him to their chain mail and it was driving me up the wall to see the literal thousands of emails every day.
I made my way down to the lobby to visit Jessa and have her fax off some crap for contract renewals. It was mind-numbingly boring, but it was keeping me distracted which is what I desperately needed.
I slid the blue folio slowly across to her. "Can you send these to Charles? Have him call me if he can too, I haven't been able to get a hold of him all day," I instructed as I leaned against the marble counter.
She cringed as she fiddled with a lock of her now red hair. "I just got off the phone with him, apparently he's tried phoning Mr. Harris directly and your desk line too – you might want to call him back before he freaks out."
Fuck me. I thanked her and made my way briskly down the hall to the elevators when my phone went off. I squeezed my eyes shut and tapped my foot as I fought the urge to look at it, I already knew who it would be. As the doors dinged and opened, I almost walked straight into him – Jon, who looked distinctly annoyed as he regarded me with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw.
"Miss Morrison," he greeted coldly. "Just the person I was looking for."
I offered him an apologetic smile as I stepped in beside him. He smelled strongly like cigarettes today, it was unusual for him and an obvious tip-off that he was as irritated and stressed as I was. He was silent as we waited for the doors to close and I stared down at the floor sullenly.
"You're mad at me," I said quietly once the elevator was headed up.
"Your job is to do what I need you to do, which means ninety percent of the time you need to be at your desk to deal with the people that I currently can't," he said slowly and deliberately, enunciating each syllable rather harshly. "I am trying to salvage what is left of a media conglomerate and preparing for a month's long trial that is going to be blasted across every news outlet in the country. I need you to do your job, Lydia."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Harris."
He hit a series of numbers on the elevator panel and it jerked to a sudden stop. I glanced up at him just before he backed me against the reflective wall.
My stomach twisted into knots as he regarded me with his cold, unfeeling gaze. "There are cameras," I said softly.
"They're a deterrent, we don't monitor the elevators." He paused and gripped my chin as he stared me down, refusing to let me look away. "You've been off since this morning, why?"
I blushed hard and my hands went clammy. I didn't know what to tell him, until this morning I hadn't been worried about age, until this morning his daughter was just a vague shadow in my peripheral that I had only seen maybe three times, until this morning I hadn't really thought anything about his wife and child. And now it was all I could think about, and I needed to keep myself busy to not think about it.
"Lydia, I'm not going to ask you again," he snapped at me.
I drew in a long shaky breath before I responded, "It bothers me that you waved off Maritza, like it wasn't a big deal, like your daughter isn't a big deal. You were the one that said you didn't want anything more outside of sex, and you just waved your kid off for a piece of ass."
"Oh, for fuck's sake," he said with a groan as he stepped back and ran his hand through his hair. "What would you have liked me to do? Ask you to leave to make her more comfortable? Pretend she has some right to dictate what goes on in my private life? She's my daughter, not my keeper, Lydia."
"Doesn't it stick out to you?" I demanded suddenly. "When you were standing in the kitchen with us, did you think how fucked up it is that she's older than me?"
"Yes!" he yelled furiously. "Yes, I have thought about it, a lot, and it was the driving force behind me keeping my fucking distance from you in the first place. I have had exactly one other relationship with a woman in her twenties – it did not end well, and I have been trying to make this work as best I can, but Christ, if this is going to be an ongoing issue then maybe you should go home."
My eyes started to water, and I stared back down at the floor as my heart clenched painfully. "I don't know where that is anymore."
"Lydia—"
"I haven't been back to my apartment for longer than ten minutes in over a week now, I've spent most of that time at Patrick's and the rest with you." I sniffed and blotted under my eyes frantically. "I'm not trying to make your day harder; I swear."
Jon regarded me with exasperation, after a moment he sighed and strode back toward me and lifted me up without warning, his hands holding my thighs up around his waist while I clutched at his upper arms. He had me pinned to the wall with his forehead pressed to mine as my tears kept flowing.
"You're not making my day harder," he said quietly, his tone much gentler than before. "You're making me frustrated because you never talk to us until things are so bad that you're an emotional wreck, I don't know how to help you with that. I don't know how to get it across to you that to take care of you we need to communicate."
"I can't fix it," I sobbed. "I don't know how, and I'm scared that you or Patrick will be mad at me and when I do finally talk you both try and use leaving me behind like a weapon..."
It was quiet between us for a long moment as Jon just held me there, eventually, he let out a quiet sigh and kissed my cheek. "He's learning just as much as you are, if not more, and quite frankly I am too now." He paused and brushed my hair back over my shoulder. "I know you need a routine to keep level-headed, and I know it's hard that he's gone right now too."
I nodded and looked up at him, my eyes still watery but the tears no longer running down my cheeks. He regarded me with concern and affection, his eyes heavy and his mouth pulled into a thoughtful frown.
"I need it, Jon," I agreed hoarsely. "Patrick doesn't think it's a big deal but it's important for me when I'm not on my meds and him being gone—"
My breathing had become frantic as I started working myself up, he cut me off with a kiss, his hand came up to stroke my cheek as his lips pressed to mine chastely.
"I want you to go back to my apartment," he instructed. "Take a bath, order something to eat, and once you're calm and not so upset, I want you to log into the remote desktop and finish the few tasks I'm going to email you. If you finish that before I'm done here, then you'll find a drawing tablet on my desk, I know you don't have your sketchbook so you can use that. I'll text you about an hour before I leave – we're going to dinner when I'm done. Is that all something you can manage?"
I nodded. "Yes, Daddy," I whispered. "Thank you."
He kissed my forehead this time and my stomach fluttered with joy. "I love you, sweetheart. I want to take care of you, but you need to work with me and tell me when you're feeling overwhelmed."
"I know..."
"Do you know why I like you calling me that?"
I laughed despite myself, the sound was strained but I still felt more relaxed. "Because you're a perv?"
"Power. I like the title, I like how it sounds when you say it – it just sounds sweet coming from you." He stopped a slight smirk forming on his lips as he gazed at me levelly. "You may not want to hear it, but my wife, Christine, is four years older than myself and long before we a child she also called me Daddy."
It was my turn to kiss him, letting my fingers run through his hair as my tongue sought his. "So, what you're telling me is that you've always been a perv," I said with a giggle.
Jon chuckled and his hands slid back on my thighs, feeling my garter belt and up toward my panties. "I think we have a rule about underwear," he said with a pointed look.
"I wanted to feel sexy today..."
"Panties make you feel sexy?"
"It's a whole set, I never get to wear them anymore - it feels sort of special." I was blushing, and I had no idea why considering the many things he and I had done together.
Jon trailed kisses across my jaw and down my throat. "You're always sexy," he murmured. "That's why I'm always hard."
He wasn't wrong, even now I could feel him starting to harden against my barely covered pussy. "Can we save it for later?" I asked. "After dinner, when I'm not jittery from an almost panic attack?"
"Of course, I'll page the driver and have him bring you home, I want you to text me once you're settled in, so I know you're okay."
I agreed and he set me down on the floor gently, my legs ached slightly from suddenly standing again – God knows how long we had been standing there for now. He hit the same buttons again and the elevator continued its ascent to the twenty-third floor. I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and straightened his plum colour tie before the doors opened, he gave my hand a quick squeeze and a soft smile before heading towards his office. After a minute my phone went off again and I glanced at it instinctively, my blush returned and it wasn't going to go away until I was back home.
11:37 AM
Patrick texted me, and I just got an earful from Charles – you're not going to be sitting for an entire week when I'm done with your ass tonight.
12:02 PM
Daddy loves you, sweetheart. Play with yourself in the bath, make sure to send me pictures. And wear something special tonight, I haven't seen any of these lingerie sets, and I want you to put on a show for my eyes only later.