Please Me Daddy (Gracie) novel Chapter 67

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

I took a deep breath, inhaling the air around me, desperately trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling within. My heart raced, and my chest felt constricted as if a heavy weight were pressing down on it. The moment had arrived, and I had spoken the words I had been holding back for too long. The declaration lingered in the air, palpable and charged with tension. For a fleeting instant, I braced myself for a cruel retort, a mocking laugh, or some form of disdain from him. But Apollo’s reaction was far from what I anticipated. He merely regarded me with a thoughtful expression, his features inscrutable, before responding in a voice that was almost a whisper.

“I see.”

His words sent a ripple of confusion through me. “I see?” I echoed, trying to grasp the meaning behind his cryptic acknowledgment.

With a deliberate motion, he pushed himself away from the table, rising to his full height. It felt as though the room itself constricted around me, intensifying the weight of the moment.

“I had already suspected it was a mistake,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You made it abundantly clear by avoiding me at every opportunity. I assumed what transpired was merely an accident, and you were unaware of who I truly was.”

I tilted my head back, meeting his gaze with a mixture of defiance and curiosity.

So this was the reason behind the whispers that followed him, the reputation of being a man who calculated every angle and arrived at the right conclusions.

A shaky breath escaped my lips, and relief washed over me like a gentle tide. “Then I’ll send the money—”

“That doesn’t mean I’m expecting you to return it,” he interrupted, his tone firm yet devoid of malice.

The words caught in my throat, and I blinked in disbelief. “What?”

“If you’re uncomfortable accepting the money,” he clarified, “consider it an advance on your monthly salary.”

I stared at him, my mind racing. Did he even comprehend the magnitude of what he was offering? Did he understand that ten million dollars was not just a sum but a life-altering amount? Why did he make it sound as if he were distributing candy to children?

I opened my mouth to protest, but the intensity of his gaze silenced me. His eyes communicated a resolute finality, suggesting that no argument I could muster would sway his decision. He was unwavering; the money was his to give, and he would not retract it.

A resigned sigh escaped me. There was no point in engaging in a futile debate. It was wiser to tuck this issue away in the recesses of my mind, allowing it to fester until I was ready to confront it head-on.

“So, Miss Grace, have you made your decision?” Apollo inquired, his voice calm but probing.

With no barriers left to hold me back, I forced myself to meet his gaze. My heart thudded in my chest, a wild rhythm that echoed in my ears, and my throat felt parched, yet the words tumbled out with surprising clarity.

“Yes, I’ll have a sexual relationship with you, sir.”

For a brief moment, he simply regarded me, a hint of satisfaction playing at the corners of his lips, as if he relished the turn our conversation had taken.

He opened his mouth, clearly about to respond, but the sudden chime of the doorbell shattered the charged atmosphere, cutting through the moment like a knife.

My head whipped toward the front door, and my heart leaped into my throat.

Who could that possibly be?

I glanced at Apollo, but his expression remained impassive. He strode toward the door with long, confident strides.

“Wait,” I blurted out, my voice laced with urgency.

He paused, and I instinctively reached out, grasping the fabric of his sleeve. He looked down at my hand before meeting my gaze.

“What if it’s someone from the office?” I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper, anxiety creeping in.

So much for my earlier bravado.

I had to tread carefully; if word of our new relationship leaked this early, the embarrassment would be unbearable.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” he assured me, his tone steady and reassuring.

“I still have my clothes—”

“They’re wet,” he interjected, his tone final.

My lips parted to argue, but I fell silent. He was right; there was no denying it.

He remained composed, watching me closely as I struggled with my own embarrassment, my cheeks burning under his scrutiny. I swallowed hard and reached out, accepting the bag from him. “Thank you… sir.”

His eyes narrowed slightly at the formality. “You don’t need to call me that when we’re alone,” he said. “We should drop the formalities. Our relationship isn’t formal anymore.”

My heart raced, and I tightened my grip on the bag. “Huh? Then… what should I call you?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s entirely up to you.”

My choice.

For a reckless heartbeat, I contemplated uttering his name—Apollo. Just to taste it on my lips. But the thought felt too intimate, too dangerous, as if I were surrendering more of myself than I was ready to give.

So, instead, I simply nodded. “I’ll go change.”

I turned away, clutching the bag tightly, but I could feel his gaze trailing after me.

Once I slipped into the bedroom, I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, the weight of my decision crashing over me. My fingers ran through my hair as I stared at the bag in my grasp.

I had just made the most reckless choice of my life.

This could lead to a disastrous outcome. Or, perhaps, it could become the most exhilarating experience I would ever encounter.