Page 1 of A Daddy to Love

1

Kairo

“Truce! Truce! Truce!”

The chant grew stronger and the club crowd parted.

My heart revved up. At first I thought there was a fight and people were trying to stop it by yelling for a truce. I quickly put my back to a wall. I was never a fighter. Violence scared me. Any time I watched something like 48 Hours I had nightmares for days.

But I couldn’t have been more wrong. Besides, drunk guys egged fights on, didn’t they?

When the crowd by the door parted and I could see what was happening, my throat went instantly dry.

There, walking forward as if parting a sea, was a man wearing a black vest, no shirt, and tight black pants. Even his tall boots were black. It was startling. His tan glowed, his dark hair was slicked back and chin held high.

A slow tremor worked its way through my body.

Flamboyant described him. And as he enjoyed every moment of attention, clearly narcissism. He must have been famous, at least for this two-story venue, since everybody seemed to know him. Truce.

My mouth dropped open. I should have been embarrassed. Not my type, I kept repeating to myself. But it was as if my brain and my thoughts we're two different entities because I couldn't make myself look away.

Truce.

It was his name, but it felt like a command.

He was definitely older than I was, maybe by ten years. Or more. He didn’t give off any vibe I might allow myself to look for. Not soft-spoken. Not mature. Not “Daddy.”

I hugged my butterfly squishy close to my chest. My mouth stayed open. I forgot to breathe as he came closer and closer, the crowd surrounding him like a human cloak. Then, he walked right by me without even a glance.

I let out the huge breath I’d been holding. Good. No worries there. Sure, he was handsome. Devastatingly so. Maybe my insides might be melting. Maybe if he had given me one tiny split-second gaze I might have even fainted. But that certainly didn’t create any connection.

In an eyeblink, he was quickly gone. Out of sight.

I told myself I’d dodged a bullet. Instinct told me his type were takers, not givers. They won all the gay community popularity contests but most likely couldn’t hold a conversation longer than to say, “I’m an Aries. What are you?”

Yep. It was best to close my mouth, stop sweating and ask the bartender for my next drink to be ice water. Or better, a juice box.

Deep breath. Forget about him. Someone named Truce was surely trouble. It had to be a nickname. Something he’d earned because he was manipulative, forceful, controlling.

Controlling?

Nope. Not going there.

Another deep breath. “You didn’t see what you thought you saw,” I whispered to myself.

Just then, someone bumped my side. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Did you see that guy?” It was Kimmie, another little I’d just met in the drink line.

This had been my first night out in years. Kimmie had been around the block once or twice. His blue eyes had sparkled as we’d talked, me asking questions, Kimmie all excited to lead me around like he had become my own personal adviser. We soon discovered we had similar kinks. We spent the past couple hours paling around. I liked him.

An elbow gently poked my ribs. “You saw him, right? That was Truce. He always makes a dramatic entrance.” He yelled a little to be heard over the pounding dance music.

“Yeah. I saw.”

“Well?”

I tilted my head. “Well, what?”