daddy's girl ❥ luke hemmings ✔️

29. "knuckle-deep"

LUKE

"What the fuck is this?!" I'm fuming. I'm pissed off. I'm everything under the sun that isn't calm or collected. I want to flip the desk and grab Chris by the collar of his shirt and slam him against the wall until he's forced to talk, but a bunch of his bodyguards line the desk around him, so I can't. "Chris!"

"I think you should calm down, Luke," the fucker's got an amused smile on his face and I'd give anything to wipe it off. He knows how easily he can get to me and he's using it to his advantage. "Here, want some water? Mark can get you some wat-"

"I don't need any fucking water, what I need is for you to tell me what the hell that stunt was back there," I glare at him, gaze hard. "Last time I checked, she wasn't supposed to kiss me!"

"As if you really checked," he chuckles cynically, shaking his head. "I'm afraid my hands are tied, Hemmings. And be happy Leo snapped the picture before anyone else did. He even managed to get your good side,"

Leo, one of the men sitting next to Chris, holds up a camera. The screen is small and I have to squint to see the actual image, but it's there all the same.

My heart drops to the pit of my stomach. It was taken at an angle where, if you had no idea what the fuck was actually going on, you'd think I was the one to initiate the stupid kiss in the first place.

I clench my jaw, about to wrench the camera out of his hands when he pulls away, entertained at my attempt.

"What the hell are you going to do with those?" I narrow my eyes at Chris. There's no hope in getting him to delete it, I know that much. There's no hope because Chris has the morals of a fucking spoon and he won't care about what I have to say anyway.

"Do you really care?"

"No. Don't give a shit, really," I say, spitefully. "I just care what my daughter has to think about her Dad having it off with someone she doesn't know."

"Ah, yes, your daughter," Chris rolls his eyes slightly and my hands itch to strike him across the face. It's not easy to contain myself around him, mainly because he's such a douchebag that it hurts. "How is she? I have yet to meet her."

"She's fine," I snap. "And over my dead body will I ever let you speak to my daughter."

"That just makes me want to meet her even more," the cheeky, shit-eating grin in his face doesn't budge. He turns to his assistant, a woman rapidly writing a bunch of things onto a clipboard, before tapping the paper. "Schedule an appointment with..." Chris looks at me, eyes twinkling in mischief. "What's her name, Luke?"

His assistant frowns, flicking through his apparently busy schedule. "You can't schedule any more appointments today, sir. Your ex-wife-"

"Ah, right, right. Nevermind, then," Chris waves her off, before turning to me. "Keep that appointment on. Right now I'm just curious as to what your daughter's name is, Luke."

"That's none of your fucking business," I say, teeth grit together as I try to control myself.

"Protective, I see?" he smirks. "You know, Hemmings, ninety-nine percent of your fanbase finds that pretty attractive."

"Don't try to change the conversation."

"I'm not."