Claimed By The Daddy

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The Business DILF

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Being a waitress isn't the easiest job. My feet were killing me after the first day, and it only got worse from there.
The only solace in my day was getting to see one of the regulars. I didn't know his name and I never got to wait on him, but I watched him from a distance.

In my head, he was known as Business DILF. He must have been in his forties, but he was aging like a fine wine. How very cliché of me.
He was over 6' tall with brown hair and light eyes that crinkled on the edges. Straight teeth and full rosy bottom lip that appeared on a beautifully square chin and jaw. When he smiled, he had dimpled creases in his cheeks that made you want to bask in its glow.
And glow he did. Not literally, but he had an aura that was undeniable. 

Everyone in the diner would look at him or say hello. Some greeted him like a friend but would never join him - though you could tell they wanted to by their posture. But he never invited company to share lunch.
I likened him to the sun. Everyone wanted to bask in its warmth. They rotated around him, could not help their orbit. But travel too close and the beautiful rays they once bathed in would burn them to ash.
He was always kind to his server. He tipped well. And had an order to his life. The same food, server, and utensil placement. His suits and dress shirts were always meticulously pressed and clean. If a hair was out of place, he would brush it back with his fingers. And that happened a lot. A soft curl often came free and made him look boyish for just a split second. Just enough time to imagine him disheveled and free.

Every time that lock of hair escaped, I would watch his fingers to see if he was single. And there was no band. Not even the indentation from a band that you may see with infidelity.
How on earth did Business DILF wind up single? Not like I had a chance or anything.
A few days before Christmas, my coworker, Simar, answered my question.

"Poor guy," Simar said gesturing to Mr. DILF. "Went to school with his brother. Wife left him to mend his broken heart. I hear it tore his life. Every gal in town has crashed and burned with him. Those that have gotten dates, never get asked on a second."
"Really? Never?"
"Nope," she popped the P along with her gum. "I wouldn't even try if I were them. Makes me think he's an asshole."
"He doesn't look like one," I observed him eating and reading a business journal. "An asshole. He doesn't look like an asshole."
"You can say it as many times as you want, but Mr. Kundrra is more than likely...an asshole," Simar laughed. "But hawwwt."
I didn't need to agree with her. It was just fact. It would have been agreeing that the sky was blue.
"Mr. Kundrra? Is that his name?" I asked, perhaps a little too dreamily. I just wanted to hear it in my own voice.
"Mmhm, Karan Kundrra. I can remember that because I saw him on the magazine today. And he plays KK on Westworld. And KK is short for his name," Simar tapped her temple. "Not all looks. Smarts. Anyway, I accidentally called him KK once and I'm pretty sure his facial expression killed me dead. Don't call him that!" She laughed.
'Mr. Kundrra' seemed like it was the best fit.

"You gals going to stand here gabbing all day or work?" My boss, Vivek, asked.

"Sorry, Vi" we both said simultaneously and went back to the needed tasks.
While I worked, I watched Mr. Kundrra finished his meal. He didn't linger too long after his last bite.
When he stood, he lifted his suit jacket that had been laid across the other upholstered bench, and began to put it on. I had never considered someone getting dressed to be a turn on, but watching his back move and flex in perfect harmony with his arms made me want to run to the restroom for some personal time off.
He thanked his waitress on his way out and walked out of the restaurant. On his way out several people nodded or waved, and he reciprocated but did nothing further.
"Mr. Kundrra," I whispered.
***
Rohan hadn't been violent much since the first incident. A few encounters. And he apologized quite a bit after them, and said he swore off alcohol.
Luckily he was going to Las Vegas for the holidays. His flight was in a few hours, and he had already driven to the airport. Originally he had asked me to come, but then recalled I was still having bruises so that persuasion ended rather quickly.
But I was fine with that. I have zero interest in flying or partying with that man. In fact, I considered asking my dad for money so I could move out.

My stepmom isn't my biggest fan though. She has never said anything outright, but it was pretty clear based on the clues she leaves unsaid.
One of them was not letting me stay with them any longer than the time required by the courts. That's one of the reasons I never asked dad for help after mom and I argued. It wasn't worth the effort.

I heard my phone buzz from across the room. I pulled myself off the couch where I had planted myself after the long day at work.
It was my mother. I rolled my eyes.
"Hello," I said with a bit of an attitude.
"Hey, Tejudiii!" I hated mom's nickname for me. It made me sound like a child.
"Hey," I greeted yet again.
"So uh, I wanted to see what your Christmas plans were..."
"I'm going to dad's place Christmas Day," I told her. I really didn't want to go and watch my half siblings open all of their gifts while I got the one. Dad always got me a gift card to one of the shops in the mall. I mean, it was useful and it showed he gave a tiny shit about me, but I couldn't help my jealousy.
"Oh, fun!" 

My mom always tried to sounds upbeat about my dad. The only time she really opened up about him was during one of our recent arguments. He was actually more of a jerk than I thought, but I didn't tell her that.

"Yup," I agreed, as I flopped down on the couch again.
"How about Christmas Eve? Any plans?"
"No," I simply said. I didn't want to tell her how I planned to watch Christmas movies and feel sorry for myself. I'm sure I'd be in counseling within a blink of the eye.
"Would you like to come to dinner at Pulkit's brother's house? I haven't met him yet, but Pulkit tells me he makes a mean turkey dinner," mom was practically begging at this point. I was tempted to eek a 'please' out of her, but decided to have mercy since I wanted to rest.
"Sure," I said flatly.
"Awesome! We will swing by to get you. I'll text you the time. I can't wait..."
And I hung up. I knew it was bitchy, but I just couldn't take much more of her.

Mona jokes that I should have been disciplined more as a kid. To be honest, I totally agree. Mom let a lot slide, and I don't even think she realized it. A little begging, batting my eyes or telling her my dad would do or get whatever it was I wanted...always worked. No grounding, no screen time restrictions, and definitely no spankings.
Kinda backfired on her since I'm primarily a brat with her. And whenever I see her cougar cubs I don't hesitate to unleash the bitch on them, too.
Oh well, dinner will be fun!

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Hey Wattpadians,

Here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoyed reading this one.

I'll try to update the next one tomorrow. But no promises ;)

Also I haven't forgot about my other books, I'll be updating them too but I need some time for them.

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~Lots of Love