Come to Daddy (Love Don't Cost a Thing, #1)

by Brianna Hale

The best things in life are free. The second best things are very, very expensive. COCO CHANEL

“Education? Please. I’m going to date a series of rich men, find the most corrupt one to marry, and then when he’s sent to prison for fifteen to twenty-five years I’ll console myself by spending all his money.” She shrugs a bare shoulder. “The ideal life.”

The dream

It’s all about confidence. Value yourself, hoe. Don’t fuck for free. Don’t eat for free. Don’t talk for free. You’re a sugar baby and every minute of your time is a precious luxury that these men should be paying for.

I’m a luxury. I like the sound of that. If I’m going to do sex work I’m going to do it my way, in a manner that makes me comfortable.

I won’t let a bunch of strange men dictate how I feel about myself, especially not when I haven’t even met any of them yet.

“This stuff,” she says, pointing a lethally long silver nail at her makeup, “isn’t makeup. It’s armor. Out there—” she points the same nail at my window “—is the war, and if you’re committed to doing this, then we’re going to make you bulletproof.”

I’ve never gone for older guys but there’s something about the stern angles of his face, the hard line of his jaw that appeals to me.

This isn’t about my pride. It’s life and death for Miss Alders.

“Pridna punčka,”

Yet Ciara feels different, which is strange because this is the most formally transactional relationship I’ve ever had.

The makeup, the clothes, they are armor. But they’re more than that. They’re my arsenal, my only weapons in a war I’m waging against Damir Ravnikar. With this lipstick, with these high heels, I’ll earn my freedom.

Electricity seems to crackle faintly in the air between us. I’ve never felt anything like this before, and just holding his gaze feels intimate.

Like we’re exposed to each other, and vulnerable in a good way. For the first time in weeks, my mind slows down and I’m aware of the moment.

He might be rude and grumpy occasionally, but I find to my surprise that I feel safe with Misha. His large, somber presence is grounding.

After several years doing everything for myself it feels strange to have someone looking out for me. Strange, but nice.

Have I just landed the holy grail of sugar daddies? He’s good-looking, generous, well-mannered. Sometimes he’s grumpy but I can put up with a bit of grumpiness for such a generous allowance.

“Isn’t this against the rules?” “There aren’t any rules. We can be whoever we want to be to each other.”

I can tell myself all I want that I’m helping her, that I’m making her feel good, that she wants this. But I want it more.

Ciara meets my eyes in the moment before her climax and I know in that instant I want to break every rule with her.

“I guess we got a bit carried away.” I don’t remember the last time that happened to me and it was fucking wonderful, getting carried away with her.

I don’t want to see her cry. I want to know she’s safe and happy, and yet she can never be safe while this debt is hanging over her head.

I don’t want these pleasantries. I want the woman who spoke to me honestly from her heart about her life. Who kisses me back with heat and hunger.

I want the real Ciara. I want to hear her say my name again like she feels something real for me.

Ciara Alders was never meant to disrupt my life to this degree but opening ourselves up to each other just this little bit has made me realize what I’ve been missing out on all these years.

I needed him to obliterate everything but him, and for a little while he did. I felt safe. Cared for. Protected. Adored.

Ciara the sensible sugar baby. That’s me.

Sleeping with Misha is just work, it’s not real, and I shouldn’t let him occupy my thoughts or indulge in fantasies about him.

I have to keep a clear head while I’m around him and that means not becoming muddled by feelings or lust. I won’t touch myself while thinking about him. I won’t.

It’s rather endearing, seeing such a hard, powerful man made bashful by a broke twenty-two-year-old who usually lazes about in frayed jeans.

He’s trying, though. And the fact that he’s trying, for me, makes my heart ache sweetly.

I’m not faking my emotions, though. I don’t have to tell myself to smile around Misha or pretend to be someone else, not since after our first date.

And that makes me wonder, is it worse to pretend to feel more than you do to get what you want, or to be paid in cold hard cash by someone who lives in your heart?

As I lose myself in his kiss I find I don’t care that he’s secretive and sometimes struggles to forget about work.

He can have his life and I can have mine, and this can be our special world between worlds. One of sweetness and sensation where nothing else matters. Just him and me.

“You make me forget about all the awful things in my life. I can’t talk about any of them, but just know that you make a difference.”

Maybe I’m one of those fools who can’t tell when a woman is flattering him to get what she wants, but I’ve known those women all my adult life and there’s something different about Ciara.

I want to savor every moment with her. Things between us will be over all too soon, forever, and I know I’ll never have anything like this again as long as I live.

I let the happiness fill myself too, pretending for a little while that it’s just the two of us we have to worry about, and no one else.

There are so many things I feel for Ciara but I didn’t expect to feel any of them.

When I look at Ciara, a sense of calm washes over me. She’s here, she’s mine, and she’s safe.

“I was thinking that I haven’t felt this before. The peace that comes from knowing you have made a woman happy.”

As I’m drifting off I feel Ciara ease herself out of my arms. My last thought before I sink into unconsciousness is that I miss her body against mine.

It’s Saturday, and I’m going to enjoy sightseeing with Ciara. She’s smiling and I want it to stay that way.

“I like making you happy.”

I am happy, now I think of it. I don’t remember the last time someone cared about making me happy.

“Hi, ljubka.” Cute one. It suits her. Our lovemaking is oddly cute, too.

The minutes and hours tick by as I sit in quiet peace, watching Ciara sleep and enjoying our seclusion from the world together. Picturing what this might be like if it never ended.

Feeling my heart unfurling with tenderness for her, as if awakening after a long, hard winter.

We’ve got plenty of time together and I want nothing more than just to be his for every day of it. It’s not too much to ask, is it, just to be his? I don’t mean I want to be loved. Not really. Not out loud. I would never say it. But if he did fall in love with me…

Misha is here and everything is going to be all right. It will always be all right, because I have him.