Daddy's Halloween (Yes, Daddy Book 4) Read online

  Daddy’s Halloween

  Yes, Daddy: Book 4

  Lena Little

  © 2020 by Lena Little

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Mailing List

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Also by Lena Little

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  Halloween is known for two things more than any other…tricks and treats.

  When she shows up on my doorstep on Halloween I know she’s the treat I want each and every year for the rest of my life.

  I want to treat her to everything she could ever dream of, because she’s not just mine for tonight or for Halloween.

  She’s mine…forever.

  But there will be rules for my Little Treat.

  And the first is to call me, Daddy.

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  1

  Hannah

  I stare up at the intimidating wrought iron as two cameras pan in on me, tracking my every move.

  Suddenly, what I thought was a statue, springs to life, the man pulling his forearm away from his face, his cape following suit as he hisses in his best Dracula impersonation, “Can I helllllp you?”

  I jump back in fear wondering what the heck I’m doing here.

  “Henry Hughes. I need to see him,” I exhale, my words trailing off at the end due to my dangerously low blood sugar levels.

  “Your invitation, please,” the man dressed as Dracula asks, making sure to bear his oversized, way too real looking, canines.

  “I…I don’t have one,” I reply, stammering off my words.

  “We haven’t accepted a non-invite in over three hundred years,” he adds, the act wearing very thin.

  “Listen,” I spout. “I took a bus all freakin’ night and all day just to get here. I have no money, nothing to eat, no friends, and nowhere to sleep. I just want five minutes, literally five minutes, to talk to Henry.”

  Dracula pulls back. “Maybe a little drink then?” he asks, pointing first toward his neck and then mine.

  I shake my head in complete annoyance. The man moves in closer, grabs my wrist and brings it up to his mouth, kissing my pulse point.

  For an adult, he’s taking this Halloween game a little too far. Scratch that…way too far.

  I jerk back, but he doesn’t let go of my wrist.

  “Devlin. Let. Her. Go,” a deep baritone orders and I feel my wrist slide from the man’s hand at the same time my knees start to wobble.

  My eyelids flicker as a tall, ruggedly handsome man steps from the shadows and into the light illuminating the sidewalk. Where did he come from and how did he get from the other side of the gate to this side so fast?

  And is my involuntary all-day food fast going to cause me to fall on my face equally as fast?

  “Why do you need to see Mr. Hughes?” the man asks, his body moving even closer to the point it blocks out the overhead security light.

  “It’s about my dad, he’s…”

  I feel my legs give out and everything goes black.

  2

  Henry

  Don’t believe in fate. Never have.

  I believe a man gets to where he is in life through hard work and calculated decisions.

  Then why do I feel like this angel entered my world on Halloween for a reason?

  And why in the hell did the owner of one of the most respected and successful security companies in the country take a girl into his home on a night known by robbers and criminals as their best opportunity all year to infiltrate homes to rob, and to steal and kill?

  Something about this girl is just…different.

  I can’t put my finger on it and I can’t really put my finger on what she’s doing to me. I’ve been obsessed with business my whole life, swearing I’d never get married let alone have children, but something about her not only stirs a need within me to make her mine, but also something paternal.

  The only question is…why?

  Although another question hangs over the room like a six-hundred-pound gorilla.

  Who is this blue eyed baby girl’s dad and why is she here?

  “Sir,” my personal assistant, Greta, announces her presence with a knock on the door as she leans her body against the doorjamb in a way that makes her breasts nearly fall out of her nurse’s outfit. “You’re needed out back. The apple bobbing is about to begin and everyone is asking where the man of the hour is.”

  “Not now, Greta,” I politely brush her off. “I have…something more important to attend to. Something came up.”

  “It most certainly did,” she says, slithering her way from the door toward me. I reluctantly take my eyes from the young woman who’s lying so peacefully on my office couch and shoot daggers at Greta although she continues in my direction unfazed.

  And it’s only then I realize the double entendre she’s referring to, her eyes locked in on my groin and I can feel that something most definitely did come up…but not because of Greta. Because of this unnamed beauty before me.

  “If you don’t want to bob for apples, you can stick your head down here and bob for something else,” she says, pressing her tits together to the point her cleavage continues right along down her underboob and it’s only then I realize she’s actually cupping her bare breasts. They’ve popped out, or she’s pulled them out, and if she removes her hand she’ll be fully exposed. She’s taking the bobbing for apples, or breasts in her case, and is ready to bring her ‘apples’ right to my mouth.

  No thanks.

  “Out!” I command, pointing to the door. “Get. Out.”

  Her head jerks back and she sulks. “It’s Halloween. Aren’t you ever going to give in and have fun or are you just going to live your whole life focused on making another buck and not…not…me!”

  “Out, Greta,” I snarl, and she stuffs her hands back into her top, her breasts accompanying them, and huffs out of the room.

  I look down at my peaceful angel resting and exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

  Suddenly I feel calm. Perfect.

  I move to the wall and pull open the hidden door, removing a bottle of Gatorade and bring it to the young woman’s lips as she stirs.

  Carefully grasping the back of her head, her silken hair weaving through my fingers, I ease her up just enough to drink.

  “It’s just Gatorade and you need some electrolytes,” I say in a voice more gentle than I ever remember using.

  “Thank you,” she says, drinking…and drinking…and continuing right along until nearly half the bottle is empty. “Where am I? What happened?” she questions, her head moving around the room, carefully surveying every surrounding as if she’s now on high alert.

  “You showed up at my gate asking for someone, then passed out.”

  “Right. Henry Hughes. I need to find him. It’s urgent.”

  “How urgent?”

  “I have nowhere to turn and my dad said if that ever happened to me to come here, to this house, and ask fo
r Henry and he’d help me.”

  “And why would he help you?”

  “Because they served together in Afghanistan and, although I’m not sure, I get the feeling Henry saved my dad’s life.” She lowers those big blues to her hands, speaking with such warmth. I’m mesmerized.

  I take a step back, shocked at this turn of events.

  “You’re…Derek Thompson’s…daughter?”

  She nods and a beat passes. “Do you know Henry? Can you introduce me to him?”

  I move in closer, realizing for the first time in my life that my business instincts work just as well in an emotional sense as they do a logical one. I’ve been told I can read businessmen like a book, but when it comes to people I’m clueless.

  Not this time. I was right. Fate did bring this amazingly beautiful creature to me. She belongs to me, and for a reason. But why?

  “What happened to your father?”

  “He…” her eyes close as she inhales, then opens them slowly as she exhales. “He’s no longer with us.”

  My fists tighten at the memory of the man, and at the realization I’ll never get to say goodbye to him.

  But I’m going to grant what appears to be his final wish, that’s for damn sure…because it’s my wish too.

  I’m going to take care of his daughter, make her mine. Hell, she might not even know it yet, but she already is.

  “I’m Henry Hughes,” I confess, and her legs swing out from the couch and she’s immediately in a sitting position, her eyes raking over me just as mine are over her.

  “And you’re safe now. You never have to worry about anything again.”

  “I…well…I mean…”

  I move even closer, bringing a finger to her lips. “Because you’re mine now, and I take care of what’s mine.” I pause, letting it sink in. “Understand me, precious?”

  She nods, saying nothing. We’ll have to work on that, and we have time. Oh do we ever have time.

  All of it. Because she’s not just mine for tonight or for Halloween. She’s mine…forever.

  3

  Hannah

  This guy just met me and he’s talking about taking care of me?

  I should turn around and beat feet outta here, but something tells me there’s more to this than meets the eye. There’s just something about…him. Something about the idea that I don’t have to struggle anymore, or at least for awhile until he gets tired of me and asks me to go, but strangely I don’t get that vibe.

  Guys always seem to want one thing and one thing only, and after they get it once, or maybe a few times at best, that’s that.

  But Henry is older and it’s easy to see he’s successful beyond anything I’ve ever seen. Just standing in front of his house told me that. Actually being inside now only cemented that thought.

  The fine Italian leather furniture…the paintings on the walls…the fact he’s the only one here not in a Halloween costume, it all adds up.

  “Homelessness isn’t a costume,” a woman who looks like she stepped off the cover of Playboy says from the doorway as she eyes me up like she wants to take the fake syringe she’s carrying, probably full of alcohol and food coloring, and insert it right into my vein like it’s some kind of Russian polonium poison.

  “I told you to leave, Greta,” Henry reminds her through gritted teeth.

  “I want to see the new arrival, and as your assistant it’s my responsibility to greet her.”

  She looks me up and down, rolls her eyes, and turns her back to me. Hardly a greeting.

  “You’re no longer my assistant. Out,” he says, pointing out the window.

  “Fine, I’ll go back to the party, but be sure to look for me when the clock strikes midnight.”

  “I won’t be looking for you at midnight or ever again. As a matter of fact all I’ve been looking for is your replacement, and she just walked in.”

  “You’re? You can’t fire me!”

  “I just did.”

  She stomps her heels and looks at me. “Don’t waste your time trailer trash. If I never got anywhere with him, you never will either. He’s married to his work.”

  “Out!” he commands, and she finally gets the hint.

  I swallow hard, my hands gripping the couch cushion beneath me. This perfect ten of a woman, at least physically, was trying to get with Henry for who knows how long and she didn’t wind up getting anywhere? So much for my thoughts of him protecting me extrapolating into protecting me in other ways.

  “Are you hungry?” Henry asks, not missing a beat.

  “Starving.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” he says, extending his hand to mine.

  This is my last chance. I already saw how dismissive he can be with people, and I don’t want to be thrown out with yesterday’s garbage like he just did to the woman who apparently worked for him. That being said she apparently was looking for more than just a working relationship…and he wasn’t.

  “I don’t bite. I promise,” he says.

  “If you’ve got food, I guess I’m in no position to argue,” I joke, and for the first time a smile comes across his face.

  I take his hand and he leads me out of his office, to where I have no clue.

  4

  Hannah

  Not fifteen minutes later and my stomach is absolutely stuffed with pumpkin pie topped with whipped cream.

  Sitting on a bus for such an extended period of time doesn’t really make you tired at all. It was just the lack of eating that made me so lethargic to the point of passing out earlier.

  “This way,” Henry says after placing the dessert fork down he used to feed me and then escorts me into another room in his sprawling estate.

  I can hear wine glasses clinking in the backyard and we even pass a few guests in beyond elaborate Halloween outfits. These aren’t the kind you find at Target or Walmart, but the kind you pay a professional makeup artists to apply and Hollywood-level stylists to create for you.

  “What’s in here?”

  Henry smirks as he holds open the door and I enter slowly, looking around at costumes on one of those hanging clothes racks with wheels that you’d see on a movie set.

  “This is…?”

  “Your costume for tonight. Pick one, princess.”

  “I…for the party?”

  “I have other plans in mind.”

  I look at all the outfits, moving closer to the rack and taking the fabric in my hands. My hands run over the immaculately crafted Cinderella outfit, Tinker Bell, Jasmine from Aladdin and more.

  “But, why?” I ask, still unable to process what’s going on or how this is all happening so quickly.

  “I want to take you out trick-or-treating.”

  “Trick-or-treating? But I’m eighteen years old.”

  “When was the last time you went trick-or-treating?”

  I pause, cocking my head and pretending like I’m trying to remember but I already know the real answer.

  “It’s been awhile,” I say, knowing the honest answer is I never got to do it, and not for a lack of want.

  “Then I’d say it’s time to get back into the holiday spirit, wouldn’t you?”

  “Have you made a selection, sir?” a British sounding woman says coming up from behind us out of the blue, causing me to jump.

  “It’s her choice, right…”

  “Hannah,” I finally answer, realizing he’s done all this for me already and I haven’t even given him my name. I turn to Henry and mouth, “Are you sure?”

  He crosses his arms across his chest and nods.

  “I’ll take this one, please,” I ask, taking hold of the Rapunzel costume as it matches my long blonde hair.

  “Very well then,” she says, eyeing me up and taking the costume. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Is she going to—”

  “Alter it to fit you perfectly. Absolutely,” Henry says.

  “It’s really not that impor—” I begin and am quickly cut off again.

  “It is impo
rtant, because you are important to me.”

  I catch myself blushing as Henry moves in closer. “And if you don’t stop questioning my decisions, I’ll be forced to make you cease speaking.”

  My eyes narrow, partly out of annoyance that he thinks he can do such a thing and partly out of curiosity for how in the world he thinks he can do that. I know he can hurt me, but I also know he won’t. My dad wouldn’t have sent me here if he was that type of guy.

  “And how would you do that?” I challenge.

  “Like this,” he says, closing the distance between us, his lips crashing down on mine.

  5

  Henry

  “Little old for trick-or-treating, aren’t you?” a man says.

  “I’m really sorry,” Hannah says as she steps away from the door, but I’m not about to let our very first attempt at this go in the opposite direction.

  I move quickly from her side and slide my foot into his home, wedging it just as he goes to shut the door.

  “What’s your problem, man?”

  “I’m not the one with the problem,” I say, baring my teeth as my nostrils flare. “The problem here is you and your discrimination based on your preconceived notions of what you think is right or wrong.”

  “Beat it weirdo,” he says, really laying into the door with all his weight but it doesn’t budge.

  “What’s going on, babe?” a woman calls out from another room in the house.