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Soon, I’m kneeling before him as he shows me all the ways a man should please me.
Dominating me.
Controlling me.
Allowing me how to let go under his command but with one caveat...he's not my happily ever after.
"I won’t cuddle you or hold you or kiss you good night. All I can offer you is a fantasy."
But no amount of warnings that he’s the wicked man who will break my heart can scare me away.
No amount of reminders that he’s old enough to be my father can deter me from wanting him.
I realize there’s more to this man than a billion dollar empire and a wall around his heart.
He listens to me, offering to mentor me and providing me the guidance I lacked in my childhood.
As hard as I try to keep my heart out of it, the harder I fall.
I want more than the fantasy...I want it all,even at the risk of losing everything.
But our little secret doesn’t stay quiet for long and soon, my father finding out is the least of my worries…it’s the secret that Beckham’s been hiding from me.
One thing I’ve learned about Beckham Archer—he’s the type of man that doesn’t wait for people to do something; if he wants it, he makes it happen.
The type of man that has me wanting to break all the rules.
The type of man that can make me beg for it.
Chapter 1
Brontë
“Congratulations to my daughter, Brontë, on her graduation from grad school. Your stepmother and I are incredibly proud of you.”
My father, Jonas Ramsay, lifts his champagne flute toward the sky as he toasts to me. The room fills with cheers and echoes of congratulations as I smile shyly and nod my thanks.
I’m still not used to this kind of wealth. The kind of wealth where spending probably fifty thousand on a graduation party at one of the most exclusive restaurants in Chicago is merely a gesture.
“Come here, sweetie.” My dad approaches and wraps his arm around my shoulders. “Have you thought any more about my offer to join Ramsay Consulting?”
I look down at my glass of champagne and shrug.
My dad is one of the most, if not the most, powerful billionaires in Chicago but he’s only been a part of my life for the last year. He and my mother met when they were young and had me at only twenty-five, something I later learned was unplanned and a source of contention between them. As expected, they divorced when I was seven after Dad was unfaithful and Mom moved us to the suburbs where we lived a quiet, normal middle-class life away from the glitz and glam of the world’s elite.
“I’ve thought about it a little but I’m still just—unsure.”
“Well, that’s why I think it’s a great idea. You can come in at an entry level position, feel it out, see if finance and business are what you want. I can tell you for sure though that they’re in your blood.” He squeezes my shoulder and I look over at him. He’s referring to my mother.
My mom, Nadia Spencer, was an accountant for as long as I can remember and she loved it. That’s how she met my father. In college they were both finance majors and they hit it off. After I was born, Mom stopped working to raise me, but once she and Dad divorced, she went back to work to support us. Dad wasn’t yet the billionaire tycoon he is now but I do know she received child support and alimony payments every month; however, she always said she refused to be beholden to a man and wanted to show me that a single mom could do it on her own.
She was fierce and incredibly brave. It’s been almost three years now since she’s been gone and not a day goes by that I don’t miss her. It’s actually because of her that I’m working on my relationship with my father… or that I even have a relationship with him. On her deathbed she made me promise that I’d forgive him and try to get to know him and my half-siblings. I put if off for about two years, but now here I am, having this elaborate graduation party thrown by him in my honor.
“That’s part of the problem though. I know everyone will just assume I’m working there because you’re my father which will probably lend to some resentment by my peers because they’ll assume I can get away with anything or they’ll just wonder why I’m working in the first place, like I’m trying too hard to prove myself to everyone.”
I gulp down the half a glass of champagne I’ve been nursing and grab a fresh one off a waiter’s tray as they pass by. Even talking about my future instantly stresses me out. I feel like an asshole, like I’m complaining about my gold shoes being too tight with the amount of opportunity that’s sitting in my lap, but I want to be fulfilled with my career, like my mom was.
I want to know that I’m making a difference in the world.
