CHAPTER TWO
Tristan
How the girl came to live with me is an odd story. Daisy’s mom was my best friend from childhood and when she’d gotten pregnant by some loser at eighteen, we’d all been shocked. Carolyn was hardly a slut, hardly someone to spread her legs for just anyone, but chalk it up to being young and naïve. The loser had been handsome, charming, and a sack of shit, leaving her with a big belly and no money.
“Tristan,” Carolyn had said slowly, rubbing her round belly. “I’m on my own now, do you think you could help?”
Back then I was just getting my company off the ground, obsessed with marketing plans, product development and countless investor meetings. I didn’t have time to help my pregnant friend and besides, had no idea what to do with a baby.
But Carolyn and I have been best friends since we were kids, so I nodded absentmindedly.
“Sure, I’ll get some lawyers on it, help you track down that dude. What’s the father’s name again? JJ? Or was it BJ? Just tell my lawyers,” I muttered, already turning back to my laptop.
And Carolyn nodded again, softly stroking her bump. But things took a left turn because we never found the father, and when Carolyn passed away a couple months later, it turned out she’d left me as her daughter’s guardian. Can you fucking believe it? She left me, Tristan Marks, twenty-something entrepreneur, as her daughter Daisy’s main person in life, the only person the baby had in fact.
I’d been completely floored, at a loss with no idea what to do. So I sprang into action, doing the only thing that made sense. I moved the baby into my home and hired full-time nannies for her. By then, my company was doing gang-busters, so luckily I was able to afford everything the kid needed and then some. Two full-time nannies, plus a chef and a maid just to run the house.
And for better or worse, the help took over from there. I didn’t see much of the little girl as she was growing, and when Daisy entered third grade, I put her into boarding school. Heartless? Maybe, but I’m a single dude, busy at the controls of a multinational company, with no time to spare. Plus, was it really appropriate for an alpha male to be watching over a young girl, someone impressionable and sweet? Hell no. So I plunked her in a boarding school thousands of miles away.
And it worked out at first. From ages eight to sixteen my ward was fine, I’d get glowing reports of Daisy’s progress and didn’t think more of it, shoving the letters into my desk. After all, I was paying a shitload for her education, including gems like needlepoint and flower arranging, which were a waste in my opinion. But whatever, as long as they kept her out of my hair.
But at sixteen, Daisy was asked to leave. There was no reason given other than “this place isn’t a fit” and “Daisy needs to find her own path.” WTF? After some inquiries through back channels, it became apparent that the Aga Khan had requested to place his daughter at the last minute, and Daisy had been booted to make space. Fuck my life. Was my money not good enough? I was incensed and about to call the Aga Khan himself, that motherfucker owed me some favors.
But then the bomb dropped. Turns out the prince’s daughter was disabled. My ward had been booted to make place for a disabled child, and suddenly, whatever conscience I had took root at that moment. Because what kind of mofo was I, fucking over a needy child? So I decided to let it slide, and gave up Daisy’s spot. We’d survive, the horseback riding lessons and ballroom dancing was pointless shit in my opinion anyways. So my ward, a teenage girl whom I barely remembered, was shipped back to live with me in my mansion in New Jersey.
It wasn’t bad at first because I didn’t notice any change. Literally, there was no trace of Daisy because I was barely ever home, busy flying around in my company jet, visiting clients, customers, our different work sites. If you think a CEO just sits at home twiddling his thumbs, you’re wrong. The job is all-consuming, all-encompassing and I’d drunk the Kool-Aid long ago. The corporation was my baby and I wasn’t giving her up.
Except slowly, the girl began to creep into my life. At first it was just a sweater hanging on the back of a chair, or a bowl on the table, empty except for a spoon. Then there was the whiff of perfume in the halls, and soon I was noticing the brunette in the living room reading a book, or laughing softly at a sitcom.
Because the girl had turned out gorgeous. Curvy, with deep brown eyes and sweet smile, I’m not sure how I missed it at first, but now I was living with a veritable vixen under my roof, my body growing ever more aware of the teen, her every move, her every mood.
And at eighteen, she’s not technically my ward anymore, Daisy’s an adult now in the eyes of the State. Which makes it just as well because we’ve been watching each other … and I can tell the beauty’s got something up her sleeve.