Please Me Daddy (Gracie) novel Chapter 44

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

I’ve never met anyone quite as unpredictable as her.

**Apollo**

As I stood before the vast expanse of glass that stretched from floor to ceiling in my office, I gazed out at the sprawling cityscape below—a labyrinth of concrete and ambition that had long since ceased to captivate me. The reflection in the glass revealed my own discontent: hands shoved deep into the pockets of my tailored trousers, my tie loosened just enough to convey my unease, and my jaw clenched tightly, a barrier against the world outside.

The silence, heavy and oppressive, was abruptly sliced through by a voice that was all too familiar, cutting through my reverie like a hot knife through butter.

“Mr. Apollo.”

I hesitated, not immediately turning to face the source of the interruption. I could picture him perfectly without needing to look—his demeanor, his energy, everything about him was a constant in my otherwise tumultuous life.

Finally, I turned, and there he was—Austin, my loyal assistant, standing just inside the doorway, his posture slightly stooped in a gesture of respect that only he could manage.

“Mr. Apollo,” he repeated, this time straightening up, his body language shifting to one of readiness, as if he were preparing to take on the world.

I scrutinized him for a moment, taking in the softer lines around his eyes and the hint of color that had returned to his skin. At fifty-eight, he should have been enjoying a well-deserved retirement, not standing here, ready to engage in my chaotic life.

“Can you drive?” I inquired, my tone steady but devoid of warmth. “You really should take it easy.”

A small, reassuring smile broke across his face as he shook his head, a gesture that radiated his determination. “You don’t need to worry about me, Mr. Apollo. The doctor gave me the all-clear. I can drive, walk, and do everything I used to. I’m perfectly fine, sir.”

I remained silent, allowing him to continue. “And besides, if I don’t drive you, you won’t go to the party.”

“Then it appears we’ve reached an impasse,” I replied, my voice flat. “I have far more important matters to attend to than enduring my father’s incessant complaints or listening to my cousin drone on endlessly.”

Austin bowed his head once more, disappointment etched across his features. “I understand, Mr. Reed. But please, at least make an appearance. Your father was quite upset the last time you didn’t show.”

Of course, he was.

My father poured every ounce of his being into those extravagant birthday celebrations. They were not merely gatherings; they were grand spectacles—a chaotic medley of politics, wealth, pride, and the same familiar faces circling each other like vultures. Every time I attended, I emerged feeling suffocated. That’s precisely why I had stopped going; but this time, he had sent Austin, knowing he was one of the few who could sway my resolve.

Cunning old man.

Without uttering another word, I brushed past Austin, and I could hear his footsteps echoing behind me as he fell into step, trailing me down the quiet corridor.

The elevator ride was steeped in silence, the air thick with unspoken thoughts and the weight of our respective burdens. As the doors slid open at the reception floor, I paused for a brief moment, allowing memories of the previous night to flood my mind—the way she had stumbled in, intoxicated, her laughter ringing out like music, only to collapse in a heap. Her voice echoed in my ears, her lips curling into that mischievous smile, and those wide, adventurous eyes that sparkled with every daring move she made. I could still feel the electric charge in the air whenever I dared to touch her.

“Austin,” I said, breaking the reverie that threatened to consume me.

“Yes, sir?” he replied, his tone respectful yet tinged with curiosity.

“You don’t happen to have a daughter over twenty, do you?” I asked, my voice laced with a hint of mischief.

He blinked, clearly taken aback. “Pardon?”

I tilted my head slightly, my gaze icy and calculating. “What about a niece?”

Austin’s expression morphed into genuine confusion. “No, sir. I don’t have any family or relatives.”

I nodded, though I had anticipated that response. “That’s unfortunate.”

His brow furrowed, uncertainty flickering across his face.

“I was merely curious,” I said, allowing a faint smirk to tug at the corners of my lips, “if this trend of younger women being a bit… eccentric is a generational phenomenon, or if it’s simply her unique charm.”

Austin opened his mouth, likely surprised to witness even a hint of amusement on my otherwise stoic face. He seemed poised to ask something, but I was already moving forward, the glass doors parting before me as I stepped outside.

As I reached the car, Austin hurried to open the door for me, but I raised a hand without glancing back. “You don’t need to fuss. Just focus on your health.”

He hesitated for a moment before responding, “Y-yes, sir.”

I slid into the backseat, the door clicking shut behind me. A neatly arranged stack of document folders sat beside me, and I picked them up, flipping through the pages, my mind still entangled in the chaotic web of thoughts.

Austin settled into the driver’s seat, and the car began to move. The documents detailed plans for a new shopping mall on the outskirts of the city—investment breakdowns, projected returns, and public sentiment analyses.

The fallout from the parents’ recent stunt had spiraled out of control, but I had managed to flip the narrative in my favor.

Just two days ago, the police had held a press conference, announcing that the parents had colluded with the actor in a scheme to extort money from the company. Overnight, public sympathy vanished, and, as I had anticipated, people began purchasing from us again. If there was one thing people loved more than outrage, it was the thrill of switching sides upon discovering the other party was innocent. Sales skyrocketed tenfold.

Of course, what the police didn’t disclose was that the parents weren’t behind bars. They were under my protection.

I stared at the paper for what felt like an eternity, my fingers unfolding it further.

“Oh?” I hummed, intrigued.

Beneath the crossed-out list, drawn in jagged black ink, was a sketch. A crude representation with haphazard lines. The proportions were comically off, and the perspective was even worse.

It appeared to depict two figures. At least, I assumed that was the intention.

The first figure stood tall, with cartoonishly broad shoulders and a sharp, crooked smile stretching across its face. She had even drawn actual horns on its head, like some devilish character from a child’s storybook.

Beside it, she had written, Mr. Evil Boss.

And below him, on her knees as if begging for mercy, was another figure. She had scribbled beside it, me.

I tilted my head, amusement bubbling within me. It seemed she had grown bored while waiting that day.

My fingers ceased their drumming against the window frame.

“Well,” I murmured to myself, “there’s my answer.”

Austin glanced at me through the rearview mirror, cautious. “Sir?”

“It’s just her,” I replied, more to myself than to him. “I’ve never encountered anyone as audacious and unpredictable as her.”

I folded the paper in half and tucked it into my coat pocket, uninterested in discarding it.

“But no matter how clever a fox may be, they all bleed the same when you find the trap.”

In the quiet aftermath of the day’s events, I stood at the precipice of change, grappling with the duality of my emotions. The chaotic world outside mirrored the turmoil within me, where the unpredictable essence of the woman who had intruded upon my carefully constructed life lingered like a haunting melody. The note I had found, a blend of ambition and whimsy, encapsulated her spirit—one that challenged my stoic demeanor and ignited a flicker of curiosity I had long since buried.

In recognizing her audacity, I felt an unexpected connection forming, a thread woven through the fabric of our disparate lives. The realization that I had been drawn into her orbit, even momentarily, shifted something deep within me, revealing the potential for hope amid the shadows I had cultivated.

As the car sped through the city, my thoughts swirled with the implications of this newfound awareness. The walls I had built to protect myself began to feel less like a fortress and more like a cage. Each crossed-out name on her list echoed my own fears of failure, yet the crude sketch of our dynamic—her as the daring dreamer, me as the imposing figure—forced me to confront the possibility of vulnerability. Perhaps there was strength in allowing myself to be seen, to embrace the chaos she brought rather than resist it.

In this moment of clarity, I understood that hope was not merely a distant promise but a tangible force waiting to be embraced. As I tucked her note safely away, I felt the first stirrings of a desire to break free from my self-imposed solitude, ready to explore the unpredictable skies that lay ahead.