Mr. Write Read online

  As we ascend the steep driveway, I take a moment to appreciate this remarkable property. It’s a four-story building with wraparound white balconies so one can venture outdoors during the warmer months and appreciate the views of the water from every angle of the house. Off to the right is what appears to be a boathouse. I wonder if I could sneak off and find a reprieve in there when I’m close to losing my mind.

  There are three garage doors, one of which is opened. As I take a closer look, I see a tall man with a sailor’s hat packing fishing rods into the lavish boat. When Daisy giggles beside me, I know that man is Axle.

  I’ve never actually sat down with Axle Bell—no one has. I’ve seen him in passing, but actually coming within ten feet of him or having a conversation are things no one can say they’ve done. There’s no need for him to liaise. The two hundred-plus employees he’s hired do that for him.

  He looks in great shape—tall, sturdy, and a head full of graying hair. His navy polo reads Ralph Lauren, and I’m sure his khaki slacks and leather boat shoes match the designer tag.

  “Daddy just loves to pretend he’s the skipper.” Her affection for her father cannot be mistaken, which makes this situation even more difficult as I have no doubt the feeling is more than mutual. When he sees the limo pull up, he waves happily.

  Daisy hunts through her oversized handbag and produces a compact. She dabs at her neck, covering the small mark left behind by my bite. It’s a reminder of what a sodding bastard I truly am.

  “Don’t worry,” she coos. “I like that you branded me.” I attempt to smile, but wheeze instead when she fondles my balls. I really hope this isn’t a preview of what’s to come.

  Thankfully, she releases me when Axle strolls over to the door, eager to welcome his little girl home. “Daddy!” she gushes, bouncing from the limo and throwing her arms around him.

  “Princess!”

  The driver lowers the screen and gives me a knowing look in the rear-view mirror. I almost beg him to take me away. Growing a pair, I run a hand through my hair and let out a deep breath. Time to shine.

  Stepping from the car, I lower my shades and wait for the father and daughter reunion to end. It’s quite chilly out, but it’s nothing compared to London’s tumultuous winters.

  Once they’ve embraced, Axle peers at me over Daisy’s head. I stand tall and proud, knowing this man doesn’t appreciate weakness. “Hello, Mr. Bell. It’s a real honor.” I extend my hand.

  Daisy pulls from his arms and smiles, appearing delighted that we’re finally meeting under these circumstances. Axle pulls back his shoulders and glances down at my hand, unimpressed. “Daddy.” Daisy nudges him in the ribs, laughing. “He likes to give all my boyfriends a hard time.”

  The B word kicks me in a B of my own, but I don’t allow it to show as this introduction has gone a little pear-shaped. Mercifully, he puts me out of my misery and steps forward, shaking my hand firmly.

  You can tell a lot by a person’s handshake. If weak and uncommitted, I believe it’s a reflection of the person’s character. However, if it’s strong, firm, and commanding, like Axle’s, then I can only imagine what his hands could do if they were wrapped around my neck. Especially if I ever broke his little princess’s heart.

  “Hello, Jordan.”

  I peer over my shoulder, wondering if he’s addressing someone else. But when I don’t see anyone there, I have images of being used as bait.

  “Daddy! Stop it!” Daisy seems to be finding this highly amusing while I’m wondering if I’ll receive my hand back in one piece. “You know his name is Jayden.”

  “What kind of a name is that?” he scoffs, letting my hand go.

  “Well, you may know me by J.E. Sparrow?” I interject, hoping the name rings a bell and he remembers the vast sum of money I’ve made for his company over the years.

  My plan backfires. “Sparrow? Seems fitting. You have arms like a five-year-old girl.”

  “Daddy!” Daisy admonishes.

  I clear my throat, wondering how I missed the memo that my boss was a complete wanker.

  “His arms are fine. Great, in fact.” Daisy smirks a smile that will only lead to me leaving this place a eunuch.

  Axle glares down his nose at me, and it’s instant hatred. I have no doubt he knows I’m shagging his little girl, and I’m not exactly being a gentleman about it. My plan has backfired and coming here has almost definitely cemented my fate.

  “I’ll just grab our bags.” Even though our driver has been kind enough to pull them from the trunk, I need an excuse to get far, far away from the Bells in fear I’ll lose a limb if I don’t.

  “I don’t suppose you need a caddie?” I half tease to the middle-age man who is unloading three humongous pink suitcases from the trunk. I lend some help, hardly believing Daisy needs this much stuff for ten measly days.

  “I could always put in a good word for you with the boss?” he quips with a smile. If only it was that easy.

  We finish unpacking the luggage, and I know I can’t avoid Axle or Daisy the entire time we’re here. All I can hope for is a miracle because I have no other choice but to bank on my backup plan. The only problem is, I don’t have a plan b. I was convinced this would work.

  “I have your bags, Daisy. You catch up with your dad. I’ll meet you inside,” I call out to her, hoping to buy some time.

  She gazes at me as though I’m her knight in shining armor while Axle glares at me like I’m the devil reincarnate. He isn’t going to make this easy for me.

  “Okay, pookie bear.” She departs with a wave of her hand, before looping it through her father’s arm. I hold his stare, not intimidated by him because if I want to earn his respect, then I have to be a worthy opponent to play his game. When he leaves, I thankfully have all my parts intact for now.

  Once they’ve entered the house, I blow out a trapped breath. “I need a miracle. But a stiff drink will do for now.” The driver laughs; no doubt he’s seen many poor suckers in my shoes. I wonder what their outcome was.

  He helps me roll the suitcases through the garage. “Be careful of Mr. Bell’s Hummer. It’s his prized possession.”

  This obnoxious eyesore is obviously making up for something Axle is lacking in the pants department because this thing is blooming huge. As I attempt to squeeze past the side panel with Daisy’s overstuffed suitcase, something gets caught, and I come to a jarring stop. The inertia propels me forward, and to stop myself from face planting, I let go of the suitcase and grab onto the closest solid thing, which is the side mirror.

  “That was a close call,” I cry out in celebration, but that festivity is short-lived when I hear a smash and the undeniable sound of my balls being laid out to dry. The sound in question is Daisy’s dead weight suitcase toppling forward and scratching the living hell out of Axle’s car. “Oh, fuck me.” I turn, and I suddenly see my funeral played out before me when I hear another crash, followed by something shattering.

  “You have to be shitting me.” I drop my head back and peer up, flipping off any godly intervention looking down on me. The side mirror which kept me afloat has now just dragged me under as it lies in a broken heap on the garage floor. “It’s not that bad.” I attempt to convince myself, but when I see the driver’s face scrunch up in horror, I know it’s not bad—it’s fucking cataclysmic.

  The entire quarter panel has a zigzagged scratch engraved into it. And the side mirror? I don’t even want to go there. Shrugging, I whistle and sweep my foot outward, brushing the evidence under the tire. “It was like that when we got here,” I practice aloud. The driver runs ahead, wanting no part in my imminent demise.

  As far as first meetings go, I suppose I’m still standing, but for how long?

  The moment we enter the side door, all thoughts of longevity are forgotten because this house is as remarkable on the inside as it is on the outside. With high, ornate ceilings, and pristine white polished floors, I admire the delicate pieces of art adorning the grand foyer, setting the vibe for wha
t’s to follow.

  I’ve visited nice homes before, but I can’t help but appreciate the elegance this mansion has to offer. I really shouldn’t have expected anything less from Axle, considering his social standing, but this place is the Taj Mahal on steroids.

  A beautiful woman I presume is a maid runs to my aid, offering to take the bags off my hands. I politely decline her assistance because there’s nothing wrong with me. I can carry my own luggage. She wrings her hands in front of her, obviously torn. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell Mr. Bell.” She appears relieved and bows graciously.

  I tug at the collar of my shirt. This place would be paradise to my ex-wife, but to me, it’s hardly a vacation I can enjoy. It seems unfair this lovely lady can’t spend the holidays with her family because she’s here serving tea and scones to wankers who drive Hummers.

  “Ms. Daisy is with Mr. Bell. I will show you to your room.” I nod as I have no doubt this place will be a maze.

  She leads the way, passing countless doorways and passageways. It seems a little unnecessary. From what Daisy has told me, it’s only her and her brother. I have no idea why this many rooms are necessary, especially since this is their holiday home, and they only use it once in a blue moon.

  It shouldn’t surprise me, but after growing up in the poverty-stricken streets of Enfield where we didn’t have two quid to rub together, I won’t ever forget where I came from. All of this can be taken away in a blink of an eye and what will the Bell Family be left with then? A scratched-up Hummer and a loose cannon for a daughter.

  We stop at the bottom of the circular staircase and I peer upward, wondering which room is mine. Even though I think the space is unnecessary, I do find the multiple doors a godsend because that means I won’t have to share. After the icy reception I received, I’m certain Axle will insist Daisy’s and my rooms are miles apart, which suits me just fine.

  “What’s your name?” I ask as we make our trek up the stairs.

  “Sue,” she replies, appearing hesitant at first as if divulging her name is against the rules.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Sue. Have you worked here long?”

  “About twenty-five years. I was Ms. Daisy’s nanny,” she reveals, piquing my interest.

  “Oh? So I suppose you know all there is to know about Daisy Bell then?” She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t have to. “I know you’re most likely sworn to a code of silence, but has she brought many men home for the holidays?”

  Our footsteps are the only sound filling the sudden stagnant air. Is she afraid to reveal the truth?

  Just when I think this conversation is a one-way street, she replies in a whisper. “No, Mr. Evans. You’re the first one.”

  Bugger.

  No wonder Axle wants to castrate me. This is bound to end in tears—my tears, that is.

  I follow Sue the rest of the way in silence, attempting to strategize a plan to dig my way out from the mess I’ve made. When she stops in front of a door, I glance from left to right, wondering which room is Daisy’s. She reads my mind.

  “Ms. Daisy’s room is down the hall.”

  There are five doors between us. “Excellent. This room is perfect then.” I don’t care if Sue tells Daisy about my apathy. She’d be doing me a favor.

  Opening the door, I stand outside, taking in the complete, over-the-top extravagance. The sizeable bed can fit a small army. It’s draped with black and gold silk. There is a walk-in closet, and off to the side, an opened door reveals an en suite. I wonder if there’s a hidden kitchen. If so, I’m all set.

  When Sue leaves me, I’m almost certain she’s headed to unpack Daisy’s things as the spoiled princess probably can’t do it herself. Strolling into the room, I holler when I see a bottle of whiskey sitting pretty on a long dresser. A crystal glass sits by it, but I reach for the bottle instead.

  Uncapping it, I leave my suitcase in the center of the room and look at my surroundings. Once again, no expense is spared. The furniture, linen, fixtures—everything is the best of its kind. Taking a sip from the bottle, I push back the lace curtain with two fingers and peer outside. My view is stunning. My window overlooks the lake and the tennis courts off to the left.

  Two row boats are tied to the wooden dock—a means of transportation if I need to escape in the dead of night.

  Pinching the bridge of my nose, I mumble, “What am I doing here?”

  Taking a long sip of whiskey, I know it’ll only take another bottle or two for me to forget the woes of my life. I should have known this trip was going to end badly. Liz calling was just one of many bad omens.

  I need to come up with a game plan. I think it’s safe to assume Axle wouldn’t look twice if he ran me over with his scratched-up car. So I need to find some common ground. Daisy most definitely is off-limits as I have a feeling he’ll skin me alive if her name slips past my lips.

  Groaning, I fall backward onto the soft mattress, nursing the liquor like it’s my new best friend. If this were a story, the writer would be setting up the main character for an abysmal plot twist. Lucky for me, I’m the writer in this story. But I have no idea what to write next.

  Each strike of the clock on the bedside table is marching toward my demise. I know I can’t hide in here forever. Throwing a forearm over my eyes, I sip my whiskey, my only friend till the end. I decide to down another pint or two before I face the music.

  “Quick.” I don’t have time to hide because she’s on me before I can scream bloody murder. “We have five minutes.”

  “Five minutes for...? Whoa!” I scramble up the bed to get away from Daisy’s prying fingers. “What on god’s green earth are you doing?” The headboard stops me from fleeing.

  She pounces forward, her arse wiggling high in the air. “I think it’s fairly obvious.”

  I smack her hand away from unbuckling my belt. “Stop it. I don’t want to give your dad more of a reason to hate me.” And therefore, firing my sorry arse, I silently add.

  Her inner sadist shines as she grins at my troubles. “I promise I’ll be quiet.”

  When she lunges for me once again, I leap off the bed, fending her off with my trusty bottle of whiskey. “We need to set some ground rules.”

  When she sees I’m indeed serious, she pouts. “You’re kidding?”

  “No, I’m dead serious.” This is genius. Why didn’t I think of this sooner? “While we’re here, I think it’s best we refrain from...” My words die in a garbled mess when she rolls onto her back and begins fondling her chest. “That,” I conclude, my eyes growing wide. She pinches over where her perfect nipples lie, partaking in a theatrical moan.

  Shaking my head, I refuse to be steered down this shady path that will end in me losing all resolve. “While I’m under this roof, I won’t touch you.”

  Daisy continues her staged cries of passion, uncaring of my rules. “That’s fine,” she pants. “You can watch me touch myself then.” To emphasize her point, she sashays her hands down her torso, landing between her legs.

  “Stop that!” I scold. But it’s like a train wreck—I’m unable to look away.

  I watch with interest as her small hands work their way under her skirt, zeroing in on my weakness from the beginning. If I want to survive this in one piece, I will look away now.

  Taking a swig of whiskey, I manage to turn around and denounce my manhood even though my feet feel like they’re rooted to the ground. My slander doesn’t seem to bother Daisy in the slightest because the sounds coming from her reveal she’s completely okay for this to be a one-woman show. This woman has no shame—a quality I once liked about her.

  “Oh god, Jayden. I want you.”

  I gulp down the whiskey, the burn reminding me why I’m doing this. I’m here to save my career, not to get laid. “Well, I want an everlasting bottle of Jack Daniel’s, but we can’t always get what we want.”

  “You’re just making this hard on yourself…hard being the operative word,” she moans while I count to ten.

  I need
to get out of here. “It appears you have your hands full, so I’ll leave you to it.”

  “Jayden!” Her surprise is clear, but she’d best get used to it.

  Just as I’m about to turn the handle, there is a knock on the door. “Ms. Daisy?” Sue’s hushed tone reveals she doesn’t want Axle to know she caught his baby girl mid masturbation on my bed.

  “What do you want, Sue?” Daisy yells, obviously not bothered with discretion.

  “Your father is looking for you. Your brother has arrived,” she adds. I can hear the hope in her voice that she’ll come downstairs, so Sue won’t have to report back to Axle what she found. I turn over my shoulder, fearful of what I’ll catch a glimpse of.

  Daisy’s legs are spread, her hands mounted over her sex, and her cheeks a warm rose in color. She appears as if she was on the cusp of something incredible, but now she’s come crashing down. With an exasperated huff, she rises, rearranging her clothes so she appears semi composed. “You owe me.”

  I cock a brow. “Owe you what exactly?”

  As she steps toward me, I have an instinctual urge to cup my balls. “Owe me an orgasm. Or two. I’ll come collect later.”

  She leaves me standing with my mouth agape as my warning has fallen on deaf ears. When she lurches forward to kiss me, I recoil two feet back. Daisy is without a doubt going to be the death of me.

  She smirks, my rejection having the opposite effect as she now sees me as a challenge, one she wishes to conquer. She yanks open the door, giving poor Sue a heart attack as her ear most likely was pressed to the door.

  “Sue, I thought I told you it’s not nice to eavesdrop,” she reprimands, brushing past her like she is nothing but a nuisance.

  “Sorry, Ms. Daisy.” Sue bows, only rising when Daisy’s annoyed footsteps trample down the stairs.

  I gingerly meet Sue’s eyes. “She came on her own accord,” I explain, holding up my palm in an oath style promise. My words are a double-edged sword however.

  Sue shakes her head, not in disappointment, but rather, she appears to feel sorry for me. “She does that a lot,” she divulges sympathetically.