Please Me Daddy (Gracie) novel Chapter 8

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

—

“You fucking asshole!”

The words echoed in my mind like a battle cry, but I couldn’t muster the energy to voice them just yet.

Garcia.

As the relentless morning sun crept through the cracks of my curtains, I felt its warmth invade my space. I groaned in annoyance, instinctively rolling over and tugging the blanket up over my face, hoping to hide from the unwelcome brightness.

“Charles,” I murmured, my voice thick with the remnants of sleep. “Close the window, babe…”

Silence enveloped me, thick and suffocating.

I sighed, my lips grazing the cool, soft pillow beneath me. “Charles, hon. Please.”

Still, the silence persisted like an uninvited guest.

My brows knitted together in confusion. “Charles?”

“Charles…”

“Charles—”

Before I could call out again, a deep voice broke through the haze of my sleep. “Are you having another wet dream or talking to yourself? Which one is it?”

My eyes flew open, and my heart raced at the realization that this voice was not Charles’s. Panic surged through me as I took in the scene before me. A tall man stood by the window, casually adjusting the cuff of his pristine white dress shirt, looking as if he had just stepped off a runway. His profile was striking, but when he turned slightly, those sharp hazel eyes locked onto mine, and I felt exposed, as if he could see every fractured piece of my soul with a single glance.

He was nothing short of divine.

It was as if the universe had conspired to create one flawless man, a being so stunning that it made everyone else feel utterly insignificant. His dark hair framed a sculpted jawline, and his body was the kind that could make anyone weak in the knees. The top buttons of his shirt were casually undone, revealing the chiseled lines of his chest. I couldn’t help but think that if a priest dared to preach about equality among men, I would gladly smack him with a Bible and insist he take a good look at this one. Even the sunlight seemed enamored, casting a golden halo around him, as if it couldn’t resist the urge to touch his perfect form.

“Are you just going to stare at me?” he asked, his tone laced with a hint of amusement.

“Huh? I mean—” My thoughts scrambled, and I blinked, trying to grasp the situation.

Then it hit me like a freight train. Who the hell is this? Why is there a hot stranger in my room? And where the hell was Charles? Panic clawed at my insides. Did this man abduct Charles? No, he was far too attractive to be a kidnapper. But then why…

The horrifying realization struck me in one swift blow. This wasn’t my room. Charles wasn’t here because he had betrayed me with another man last night.

A sharp ache twisted in my chest, but there was no time to wallow in it. My gaze dropped, and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks with a force that left me lightheaded.

“You fucking asshole!”

My heart raced as I realized the silk blanket had slipped too low, exposing way more skin than I was comfortable with. My breasts were out, completely bared to this stranger, as if they had lost all sense of dignity.

Gasping, I yanked the blanket up to my chin, scrambling backward in a flurry of embarrassment. “Who the hell are you, and why the hell am I in your room?!”

Finally, the man turned to face me fully, and for a moment, it felt like I was speaking a language he didn’t understand. He didn’t respond. Instead, he reached for a sleek watch on the nightstand, slipping it onto his wrist with a casual air that only infuriated me more.

My cheeks burned with a mix of anger and humiliation. How dare he ignore me? I was practically shouting at him! I stared, incredulous, as he acted as if I were nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum, unworthy of his attention.

Fists clenching at my sides, I felt a surge of indignation. How could he treat me this way?

I racked my brain, trying to piece together the events of the previous night, but everything felt like a jumbled mess. What the hell had happened?

The memories flooded back, vivid and painful. I had walked into my home and caught my fiancé in bed with another man. The image seared into my mind like a brand.

I had gone to the bar, drowning my heartbreak in far too many drinks, pouring out my soul to a bartender who probably couldn’t care less. A call from my mother had left me emotionally shattered, and then… nothing.

I couldn’t recall how I ended up in this room, face-to-face with this enigmatic man.

Looking up at him again, my heart raced uncontrollably, and my stomach twisted into a tight knot of anxiety.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” I demanded, my voice shaky. “Why am I here? Don’t tell me you dragged me to this place against my will. Don’t you have any shame?!”

He didn’t even glance my way. Without a hint of concern for my state, he turned his head coolly and said, “Come in, Chase.”

The door swung open, and a younger man stepped inside, impeccably dressed. His eyes widened at the sight of me, barely covered and flushed with embarrassment. He glanced between us, his face stiffening with disbelief. But when he met the man’s gaze, something shifted. The air grew thick with tension, and the younger man’s expression darkened as if he sensed a storm brewing.

Chase quickly averted his gaze. “Sorry, sir.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, the man moved to the chair, retrieving his suit jacket and slipping it on with practiced ease.

Straightening the lapels, he said flatly, “Take care of things here. Give her whatever price she asks for.”

Price?

“Yes, Mr. Reed,” Chase replied, bowing his head like a servant in some mafia drama.

He was halfway to the door when he paused, hand resting on the handle. He didn’t look back.

“And I don’t want to see your face again. If we do meet, I’ll make sure you regret it,” he said calmly before exiting and shutting the door with a finality that echoed in the stillness.

I sat there, wrapped in the sheet, feeling as though I had just been punched in the gut. I stared at the door, my mind racing, until the ache in my chest finally snapped.

“You fucking asshole!” I screamed, my voice reverberating off the walls.

My hand moved before my brain could catch up. I snatched the vase from the nightstand and hurled it at the door. It shattered with a gratifying crash, exploding like my pride on the floor.

“Who the hell wants to see your face again anyway?!” I yelled after him, my voice dripping with venom. “You think I’m just some pathetic girl you can buy off?! Go to hell, you heartless jerk! I’d rather die than stay in the same place as you!”

My chest heaved with ragged breaths, a mix of rage and humiliation coursing through me. I loathed this man. I hated his calm demeanor, his arrogance, the way he regarded me as if I were disposable.

Fine.

I would never see that infuriating man again—not if I had anything to say about it. The world was far too vast, too expansive, for our paths to cross again.