Please Me Daddy (Gracie) novel Chapter 45

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

**Apollo**

Engaging in social gatherings was never something I excelled at; in fact, I found it utterly detestable.

The incessant chatter of people around me felt like a cacophony, their words spilling forth in a frantic rush as if silence itself were a lurking predator ready to devour them whole. I often pondered what compelled them to speak so freely, their thoughts erupting like water gushing from a broken dam, each word more meaningless than the last.

From an early age, I had developed a profound aversion to humanity. If someone dared to cross me or obstruct my path, I would not hesitate to sever ties without a moment’s thought. The notion of second chances was a fairy tale I had long abandoned. People had an uncanny knack for mistaking kindness for weakness; extend them an olive branch, and they would inevitably grasp it with both hands, only to repeat their transgressions with newfound audacity.

This very trait instilled a palpable fear in those who surrounded me.

They longed for my attention, yet were paralyzed by the terror of making a single misstep. They understood all too well that one wrong move could unravel the delicate fabric of their lives. Even at these extravagant gatherings, the invitations that found their way to me were mere formalities; deep down, none of them truly desired my presence.

As I stepped into the opulent hall adorned with lavish decorations, a wave of regret washed over me.

“Oh my God. That’s him. Apollo Reed.”

“No way! He’s actually here? He never attends social gatherings, not even for his father’s birthday. What’s going on?”

“I have no clue, but wow… he’s stunning, absolutely perfect.”

“Should we go introduce ourselves?”

“Are you out of your mind? I’d rather keep my life intact. He may look like a god, but everyone knows he’s a devil in disguise. He can ruin your life without a second thought. Let’s just admire him from a distance.”

Their voices buzzed around me like an irritating swarm of flies.

With my hands shoved deep into my pockets, I strolled into the event hall, dismissing them all as unworthy of my attention. I had no desire to engage in idle banter; my only wish was to fulfill this obligation and escape. Important work awaited me back in my office, where I could lose myself in the solace of my own company.

Suddenly, a man clad in a sharp black suit approached, bowing deeply. “Good evening, Mr. Apollo. They are expecting you inside. Allow me to escort you, sir.”

I cast him a fleeting glance, ready to follow when a sharp voice cut through the air like a blade.

“How dare you, you bitch! Did you mess up my shoes? Do you have a death wish?!”

Intrigued, I turned my head.

In one corner of the hall, partially concealed behind a curtain, a woman crouched on the floor, her hands pressed against the cold tiles. She appeared to be part of the catering staff, clad in the standard black and white uniform. Her head hung low in submission, a picture of despair.

The man towering over her looked down at her with a disdainful expression, as if she were nothing more than the dirt beneath his shoes.

“I’m so sorry, it was an accident,” she stammered, her voice quivering with fear. “I tripped; please forgive me.”

I raised an eyebrow, my gaze lingering on the scene unfolding before me.

The whispers began again, a low murmur that floated through the crowd.

“Ah… it’s Mr. Paul’s son. Looks like he’s at it again.”

Someone else muttered, “He’s insufferable. He did the same thing last time—tripped a waitress on purpose and humiliated her.”

“Sick bastard. Always stepping on women just to inflate his ego.”

“Why does no one stop him?”

“Because his father is a director under Mr. Reed. No one wants to cross them.”

I tilted my head, scrutinizing him. He was the kind of rot that thrived in environments like this. He hadn’t earned his power, didn’t deserve it, and would crumble in an instant without the weight of his father’s name behind him.

People like him repulsed me.

He loomed over her, one hand casually tucked in his pocket, the other swirling a glass of wine as if this were merely an amusing game.

The man beside me seemed ready to intervene.

“Wait,” I said, raising my hand to halt him.

He glanced at Austin, who met his gaze with a grim understanding. They both recognized that this situation was bound to escalate.

The brat stiffened, his back still to me. He twisted his head, confusion etched across his features. “Who the hell just spoke?”

His gaze traveled up, scanning me with the arrogance of someone who had never learned to temper their tongue. He raised an unimpressed brow, his voice dripping with disdain.

“You look familiar,” he muttered. “But that’s irrelevant. You should mind your own business, mister. Better yet, do you want to take her place and lick my shoes instead? If you do that, I might just forget her little mistake and let it slide.”

A gasp erupted from the crowd. “No way! He just told Apollo Reed to lick his feet!”

The boy froze, as if someone had doused him with ice-cold water.

“W-wait… what did you just say?” His voice cracked, panic seeping through his bravado.

He looked at me again, this time with a closer scrutiny. His eyes widened, recognition dawning with a sense of horror.

“Y-you’re—” he stammered, visibly shaken.

“Do you still want me to lick your shoes?” I asked, my tone icy.

In an instant, he dropped to his knees, desperation etched across his face.

“I didn’t know, sir. Please forgive me, I didn’t recognize you—”

I offered no reply. Instead, I picked up a glass of wine from the nearest table, the cool glass feeling solid in my grip.

Without a word, I tilted the glass, allowing the rich red liquid to spill slowly onto the pristine marble floor.

I held the empty glass between my fingers, looking down at the boy still kneeling before me, his face drained of color.

“Lick it,” I commanded, my voice resolute.

In that moment, as the crowd held its breath, a transformation began to unfold within me. I had always viewed the world through a lens of disdain, believing that power and fear were the only currencies worth possessing. Yet, witnessing the humiliation of that woman ignited something buried deep within my heart—a flicker of empathy that began to thaw the ice I had encased myself in for so long. The boy’s arrogance crumbled under my gaze, and as he knelt before me, I realized that I had the opportunity to redefine the narrative. I could either perpetuate the cycle of cruelty or, for once, choose to stand against it. The weight of my decision pressed heavily upon me, and in that instant, I understood that true strength lay not in instilling fear, but in offering protection to those who needed it most.

As I commanded him to lick the spilled wine, I felt a surge of power unlike any I had known before. It was not the power that came from wealth or status, but rather the power of choice—the choice to be a catalyst for change. The gasps of the crowd echoed in my ears, but it was the woman’s silent gratitude, her eyes shimmering with a mix of fear and hope, that anchored my resolve. I was no longer just Apollo Reed, the feared figure cloaked in darkness; I was a beacon of defiance against the very rot I despised. In that grand hall, amidst the whispers and judgment, I found a renewed sense of purpose. Across distant skies, hope lay waiting to be found, not just for the woman I had defended, but for myself as well.