Silver Fox Grump: a Smutty Dad's Best Friend Stalker Romance

not quite daring to look at Maisie even as I bring our joined hands to my lips and kiss the back of her hand. “I’ll ask your daughter about the second thing. I hope she’ll say yes.”

Maisie blinks, then nods eagerly.

“In return I’ll pay you for that laundering you do for me,” Wes says between gritted teeth.

“Good of you.” I’m grinning, because I’m winning all the way here. I’m stupidly, improbably happy.

“Don’t hurt her.” Wes turns and faces me down.

“I won’t.”

“If you break her heart, I will personally skin you alive, then dip you in acid.” Right now, Wes is not my friend. He’s not a mafia boss. He’s a protective father. “Be good to her. Keep her safe.”

“Dad!” Maisie protests.

“I will treat her like the princess she is, but not because of any threat from you,” I reply with the simple truth.

Wes narrows his eyes.

“I’ll love and spoil her as she deserves because doing anything that harmed Maisie would be far more painful than your torture.”

“Fine.” Wes grimaces, but doesn’t enlarge on that.

Wes might be my best friend, and he’s an important ally for Morden, but he’s making my girl nervous.

She goes to hand him the mug of tea, and he says something right at that moment and she jerks in shock. Tea splashes over the edge of the mug, and onto her hand.

Like the last time she was hurt, I’m on my feet in a second.

The primal part of my brain is sounding a shrill fire alarm. It’s all I can do to not race to Maisie’s apartment.

On the screen, Maisie thrusts her hand under running water and clears up the spilt tea as best she can with one hand.

Wes is talking to her, and my frustration with not knowing what’s being said mounts with my craving to look after my wounded girl. How bad is the burn?

And what the fuck did Wes say that has her slumping over the sink, her shoulders up around her ears and her head bowed.

They continue to talk, and I’m caught, a fly on a sticky trap. I have to go to her, but I can’t just turn up for no reason.

Wes is looking increasingly irritated. Finally, he crosses his arms.

Then I notice Maisie’s shoulders. They’re vibrating. Lifting up and down. For a moment, I don’t understand why. Then she turns and there are tears streaming down her face as she says something to Wes.

Watching her fall off the table is nothing, nothing compared to this.

I don’t hesitate. I’m out of the office, punching the elevator call button, and swearing.

If Maisie is crying, I’m going to her. There’s nothing in my head but that single, primal need to get to my girl and comfort her. Protect her. Care for her and dry her tears.

Destroy anything that has upset her, even if he’s my best friend.

We are friends. More than friends, too. He’s my boss, my forbidden lover, my stalker. My teacher.

But he is also my friend.

And he doesn’t let my hand go. No, he traps it beneath his, like a cat that has caught a bird that it shouldn’t have, and cannot eat, but must keep and play with all the same.

We’re so close. I can almost taste the truth between us. He’s as lonely as I am. He wants a family like his brothers have, and I crave that too. We’ve worked together for two years, and I know this man’s stormy moods better than the familiar London skyline out of my office window.

“Sir.”

My head snaps up and I jerk my hand back guiltily, but Sev holds on, and my heart springs into my throat like a bouncing baby animal.

“Espresso and tiramisu, enjoy.” The waiter sets the cream, coffee, and chocolate dessert down in front of me, and a tiny cup of coffee in front of Sev, then his gaze snags on our joined hands for a beat. I bite my lip. But Sev isn’t letting up. He doesn’t let me escape, and the waiter retreats wordlessly.

And when Sev calmly lifts his coffee to his lips as though this is what we do now. Like he only has one hand available, and so do I, and who needs two hands? Overrated.

“Eat,” he orders when I just sit there in shock. Because this isn’t normal for my boss.

I pick up my spoon and dig into the layered dessert. It explodes on my tongue, but I can’t really taste how delicious it is. How decadent.

Because in the silence, Sev begins to stroke his thumb over the back of my hand, gentle and insistent, and my insides melt.