Daddy's Girl: A Daddy Issues Novel Rebel Wild (i have read the book a hundred times .txt) 📖

corner. “That belonged to their dad. He was a big movie mogul. Joe said if a girl wanted to be famous, she had to have a seat on his casting couch.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s all they have left of the guy besides his money.”

“I can see why they’d want to protect it.”

“You better spend your free time somewhere else,” she says, closing the door.

I’m just happy that I at least get some free time.

We climb the stairs to start the second-floor tour.

“This is yours,” she says as we enter the last room at the end of the hall. It’s a large space. The walls are painted white and they are completely bare. The king-sized bedroom set is expensive, but of a basic design. “You can decorate it any way you want,” she says when she catches me looking around. “There should be a decorating website favorited on your computer. The account is already set up. Oh, by the way, when you go back to your apartment later today, don’t bring any clothes. Everything you need is already here.”

My head snaps away from the laptop she just pointed to on the bed to the closet. She nods for me to look inside. The massive walk-in closet is packed to the ceiling with outfits and shoes, all categorized from casual to formal. I’ve never seen so many stilettos, from whore red to angel white. The drawers are brimming with bras, panties, and pajamas of all kinds and there are several different shades of glossy pink lipstick. I wonder why he bought so much. If I change every hour of every day, I couldn’t plow through it all in just six months. I hope he doesn’t have some kind of clothes fetish. My heart races when I think of worse fetishes he can have.

“He goes crazy about women’s clothes. He knows the designer shit better than I do. When I first met him, I thought he was Trans.” She laughs.

“His things aren’t in here,” I say, looking around. “Mr. Garrett won’t be sleeping with me then?” I ask her, hoping that’s the case.

“No. His room is downstairs. This room is off-limits to him, just so you know. None of us can come in here without your permission. I or the housekeeper will need to come in and clean it, but if you prefer we didn’t, it would be your job to keep it clean.”

“Oh, I don’t mind you guys cleaning in here. Not that I expect you to pick up after me. Whatever you guys are doing is fine.”

“We’ll work it all out as we go along,” she tells me, giving me a genuine smile, and I think I’ve just broken through whatever barrier she had put up against me earlier.

“What’s in here?” I ask her as we walk past the room next door to mine.

“It’s his playroom.”

“Playroom?” I ask her and she frowns.

“Where you two will be spending most of your time together, but he wants to show you that room himself.”

“Oh.”

I become embarrassed and I’m sure it’s showing on my face by the heat I feel burning my ears.

“You okay?” She asks.

“I’m fine.”

“Look, I know it’s none of my business, but—”

“Bree,” the other Mr. Garrett, or Joe, as I’ve been asked to call him, yells for her from down the hall. His voice is so forceful that it startles us both. “If you’re done, I need to take her to get her stuff.”

“Yeah, we’re all done,” she tells him before turning to me. “I’ll see you later, Sydney.”

“Okay, and thanks.”

She smiles at me as I pass her.

“Hey, do yourself a favor and remember what I said about your room, okay?”

“I will,” I assure her.

Her eyes lock with Joe as they seem to be communicating with one another in some bizarre staring contest. She wins, however, as Joe blinks and quickly looks away from her. I inwardly laugh at him as he, over six feet, has just been stared down by a woman almost half his size. I need to learn how she did that. I feel I may need to know that little trick if I’m going to have any hope of surviving these next six months as Mr. Garrett’s submissive.

Chapter Four

Joe waits patiently in my small living room while I pack my things. This is a small cry from where Dad and I used to live back when he was Deputy District Attorney. Looking around now, I can see why he hated this place so much, especially after just leaving Mr. Garrett’s house.

He walked around here depressed for months. I tried my best to cheer him up, to keep things going, so he didn’t have to deal with anything. I thought he was getting better. He was starting to laugh and to talk again. He seemed so happy that last week before Mr. Garrett had pressed charges. I can still remember being woken up by the constant banging on the front door.

“Who the hell is it?” I heard Daddy say.

“LAPD, we have a warrant for your arrest.”

Everything after that was a blur. Daddy was moving around the apartment on his phone trying to stall. They finally broke the door down. I remember them tackling him to the floor. I screamed for them to stop and they turned on me, warning me not to move or they’d arrest me. Daddy was yelling at me to call his lawyer as they pulled him out of the front door. All the neighbors had come out to see, so I closed the door on them. I called Daddy’s lawyer, and he promised he’d go down and help him through booking. I even called Mr. Garrett, but he couldn’t have cared less. He told me he was the one who brought the charges against Daddy. I didn’t understand it. I knew the case he was working on was important. A movie star had been murdered up in the hills. Dad was tight-lipped about it.