Liz knocks on the open door and steps into the office. “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Murdoch, but Ruby’s car is waiting downstairs.”
“Excellent.” My dad gestures for me to move out, clearly desperate to be rid of me. “I’ll have Liz text you about dinner tonight.”
Mr. Murdoch shoots my dad a quizzical look. I rise on legs that feel like jelly and collect my suitcase. I wheel my suitcase toward the door, then stop and glance behind me.
“It was nice meeting you, Mr. Murdoch.”
“The pleasure was all mine, Miss Ruby.
Chapter Two
My dad’s townhouse is both undeniably nice and utterly impersonal. After performing some light snooping, I’m willing to bet he bought the place fully furnished. I lug my suitcase upstairs to the guestroom—per Liz’s instructions. There, I find another clean, neutral room. White sheets to match the off-white curtains and walls.
I start to unpack and then stop. Is there even a point in trying to get comfortable in a home I’m not welcome in? I leave my jeans at the bottom of my bag and unpack only the essentials: toothbrush, facial wash, underwear.
As I close the drawer on my panties, I realize I’m still thinking about my dad’s boss, Mr. Murdoch. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since I left the office. The man is old enough to be my father; he might even be a few years older than my father. Yet my body doesn’t seem to care.
From the moment Brian Murdoch walked into my dad’s office, I was caught, captivated, like a butterfly in a spider’s web. And I swear, the man couldn’t stop looking at me like he wanted to eat me for dinner.
It occurs to me that if I went to work at my dad’s firm, I might get to see Mr. Murdoch more regularly. I shove the thought away. No doubt the kind of job my dad wants for me will be one that places me far away from the main offices. In a back room or a basement, somewhere he doesn’t have to think about the daughter he walked out on.
I highly doubt Mr. Murdoch takes his lunches in the mail room.
Still, my mind can’t help but wander...
I picture myself taking the elevator up to Mr. Murdock’s office, my arms heavy with files. I see the man himself, seated behind a big oak desk, a cigar sending out smoke signals from his right hand. Come to me, Ruby, they seem to say, and so I do.
The fantasy takes over and I have to lie down on the bed. I imagine Mr. Murdoch telling me to put the paperwork down, and asking me to sit in his lap. I do as he tells me, noting the hard lump beneath my ass. I ask about it, and he tells me it’s his cock. Mr. Murdoch is hard...for me. I’ve never touched a cock, so I can only imagine what it feels like to have one pressed against me, but the idea alone has me writhing.
I press my very real hand between my legs, as Mr. Murdoch does the same to me in my mind. He asks if I’ve been working hard as he rubs my pussy. I say yes, very hard, sir. He kisses my neck as his free hand roves all over my breasts and belly. We’re both about to reach into my panties when my ringtone rips through the scene in my head like a child’s hands through Christmas paper.
“Shit,” I mutter, grabbing my phone off the dresser where I left it. I answer, “Hello?”
“Hi Ruby, it’s Liz. I’m just calling to confirm your dinner reservation tonight.” I make a note of when I’m supposed to be picked up and then thank Liz for calling.
I’m still horny. I consider picking up where Mr. Murdoch and I left off, but the reality of my situation is fast eclipsing the thrill of my fantasy. Even if I got a job at the firm, I’d still be living in my dad’s house in the meantime, unwelcome and unwanted.
I notice an unread text message notification and swipe to check it. It’s a message from my mom asking how I’m doing. I text back: Dad doesn’t want me here.
My mom replies immediately: Don’t take it personally. Your dad’s a busy guy, and he’s always had trouble focusing on more than one thing at a time. Give him a few days. In the meantime, you’re in AUSTRALIA! Have some FUN!
I toss my phone on the bed. Maybe I am being overly sensitive. I have no idea what my dad’s life is like here. It’s possible he’s just really stressed, and doesn’t remember how to be a father. What if all we need is a chance to reconnect, and an opportunity to talk openly without distractions?
Tonight’s dinner could be good for us. A chance to start over.
I shower and get dressed, opting for the nicest dress I packed: a midnight-blue halter with a white sash. The neckline is a little low—possibly too low for dinner with my dad, but from what Liz told me about the restaurant, I think it’s better to go with fancy-but-sexy than to settle for modest-but-frumpy.
The BMW picks me up at seven on the dot and deposits me back at my dad’s office. Apparently, he still has a couple of things to take care of, and the restaurant is close enough for us to walk to. I take the elevator up to his office, and Liz spots me as soon as I step through the doors.
“Ruby, don’t you look lovely!” she says from behind her desk. Her gaze flits to my cleavage, but her smile doesn’t falter. “I’ll call your dad and tell him you’re here. Feel free to sit anywhere you’d like.”
“Okay, thanks.” I take a seat on the brown leather sofa in the sitting area and wait.
I wait for over an hour.
Finally, Liz comes to sit next to me, her hand resting on my shoulder. “I’m terribly sorry, sweetheart, but your dad’s not going to make it out tonight.”
My heart plummets into the pit of my stomach. I can already feel the prickling of tears at the edges of my eyes. So much for a new start and giving him the benefit of the doubt.