Please Me Daddy (Gracie) novel Chapter 17

**Across Distant Skies Lies Hope Waiting To Be Found by Kade Rowan Flint**

I stirred awake, a sensation both familiar and unexpected coursing through me.

Apollo.

There she was, on her knees, positioned intimately between my legs, right there in my office, behind my desk. Her mouth was wrapped around me, her eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

For the very first time in my forty years of life, I found myself waking up with a throbbing erection.

A damn wet dream.

It struck me as absurd. I couldn’t even recall the last time I’d experienced something like this. In fact, I doubted it had ever happened before. I had never been so sexually frustrated that my subconscious would conjure such vivid imagery, much less wake me up feeling like a randy teenager, hard and desperate for release.

My fingers drummed a steady rhythm against the polished surface of the conference table, a chaotic melody inspired by that intoxicating young woman from the hotel room.

She had somehow infiltrated my mind, weaving her way into my thoughts, and now, I couldn’t even find solace in sleep without my body betraying me in the most humiliating manner.

Objectively speaking, she wasn’t the most stunning woman I had ever encountered. I had mingled with models, socialites, and actresses—women who turned heads and stirred desire in the hearts of countless men. Yet, I had never felt the slightest inclination towards them. Sure, she had her charms, but I was a man of substance, not one to be swayed by mere appearances. But my body? It seemed to have a mind of its own, craving her in a way I couldn’t comprehend.

Disgraceful.

I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed, my sleeves rolled up to my elbows, a stance of defiance. The voices of my colleagues across the table faded into a dull hum, their words utterly devoid of importance.

“So, the best solution is to—”

I shut my eyes momentarily, my jaw tightening in irritation.

“Enough,” I murmured, but the weight of my words commanded silence. The entire room went still.

When I reopened my eyes, they were sharp, glinting with a clarity that demanded attention.

“You’ve all been spouting nothing but useless drivel,” I declared, my voice slicing through the tension in the air.

The silence stretched, heavy and palpable, as no one dared to move or breathe.

“You’re all well-compensated, yet not one of you has proposed a tangible solution.” My gaze swept across the room, dismissing them as if they were a gathering of fools. “You’re utterly useless.”

A man from the PR team fidgeted nervously in his seat. “S-Sir, we’ve exhausted every option. We reached out to the victim’s family, but her parents refuse to engage with us. Even when we offered a financial settlement, they—”

I fixed him with a steely glare, and his voice trailed off, silenced by my intensity.

Across the table, a woman cleared her throat, attempting to regain control of the situation. “We tried to manage the narrative, but the footage of the celebrity claiming our company would protect him has been shared millions of times. People genuinely believe he was telling the truth.”

I remained silent, my fingers reaching for the document lying in front of me.

The cover displayed a news screenshot, and beneath it were lines of legal concerns and PR analysis that made my stomach churn.

Just a week ago, the celebrity featured in our ad campaign had struck a girl in a crosswalk while intoxicated—a hit and run that left her in a coma. My team acted swiftly, severing ties with him within twelve hours, but it was too late; the public had already associated his face with my company.

To make matters worse, leaked footage emerged, showcasing the scoundrel, smug and slurring, boasting to his friends, “Reed Corp will get me out of this mess.”

He made it sound as if the company was backing him, supporting his reckless behavior. Just two days later, he was found dead in his apartment, taking the coward’s way out. That bastard couldn’t even own up to his actions.

Now, the girl’s parents were speaking to every camera that would listen. News outlets, blogs, and influencers were clamoring for justice, directing their anger towards me and my company instead of the deceased man.

Even if they pursued legal action, they would likely lose. The real issue at hand was public perception.

People were boycotting us. And no matter how distorted the public’s version of the truth was, perception was the reality in this world.

I stared down at the file, my voice emerging low and steady. “Chase.”

“Yes, sir,” Chase replied, following closely behind me.

I strode out of the conference room, heading toward the elevator.

“Where’s Austin? I haven’t seen him this morning,” I asked, glancing back at Chase.

“He called in, said he’d be running a bit late today,” he answered.

“Did he mention why?”

“No, just said he would be a little late.”

I nodded, acknowledging that Austin was the only person in this building to whom I extended any grace.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and I stepped inside, rolling my neck to ease the tension building there.

The elevator chimed as it reached the second floor, and I stepped out, making my way directly to the PR department, the second largest team after Sales. The glass doors were slightly ajar, and as I pushed them open, I was greeted by a cacophony of ringing phones, people barking orders, and others rushing around, their voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony. The moment they spotted me, the room fell silent.

I chose not to acknowledge them, my hands tucked into my pockets as I walked through the sea of anxious faces, scanning the room for my nephew. I spotted him, engrossed in conversation with a man in a dark suit who was trying his best to project authority.

“Welcome to work, rookies,” he was saying. “You would have had a more festive welcome, but as you can see, this is not exactly a good time for confetti. We’re in a crisis, and that means everyone, including you, has to work—”

But I wasn’t listening anymore; my attention had been drawn to a blonde woman standing beside my nephew. Her face was partially obscured, but something about her triggered every alarm in my mind.

My brow furrowed in concentration. She looked familiar.

I took a deliberate step forward, narrowing my eyes, trying to catch her gaze. Just as her head began to turn toward me, the man leading the group blurted out, startled. “Mr. Apollo! Sir, do you need something?”

Every new hire’s head snapped in my direction, except for the woman who had captured my attention. In that fleeting moment, I noticed her flinch.