Daddy ✔️

C H A P T E R - O N E

One more time for those that skip the preface:

IT'S ABOUT A DADDY KINK (hot older guy NOT ddlg)

This is not the full story, that can only be read on Radish and Inkitt.

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Enna's POV.

"Cancel your plans, you're going." I put down my pencil and look up at the dark, irritated eyes on my father. "I want you at the venue by seven o'clock, if it makes you feel any better, you can leave by nine. But wear the damn dress I bought you and try to smile and look like you're enjoying yourself. Remember that you're representing me, not just yourself."

I scowl at his words and take a sip of my coffee.

"I mean it, Enna. Stop scowling."

Twenty-two years old and he still speaks to me as though I'm a child.

"Fine, whatever," I reply.

Maybe I act like a child sometimes.

My father sighs dramatically and storms out of the kitchen. I roll my eyes and turn back to the designs, sprawled across the huge table. I have another hour before I need to go home and start getting ready, plenty of time to make some more plans.

I've recently graduated with a degree in landscaping. My father has hired me to re-do the impressive gardens of his enormous mansion. He's completely minted and married to a woman twenty years younger than him.

Ashley is only five years older than me. She's not too bad to deal with, we tolerate each other. Plus, I get to live in one of my father's many apartments, rent-free. My father might be overbearing and a control-freak, but he spoils me. Whatever I want, he would buy it for me.

But despite this, I'm not spoiled, I remain humble. I don't ask him for things and the only time he's really helped me out, is to provide a loan for me to start my landscaping company.

I've already designed two gardens for his friends, hopefully my business will keep booming. I can pay back his loan and carry on without his support. He's loaded, but I don't like living off of his money.

I tap my nails against the table whilst I think. I got my acrylics put on yesterday, they're a beautiful maroon colour. My father ordered me to get this colour, wanting it to match my dress.

He's got some fancy, formal event tonight that he's dragging me to. We usually have to wear matching colours at these events for appearance's sake, it makes us look like a happy family.

After doing some more work, I go back to my apartment and get ready. Once my hair and make-up is done, I slip on the red, satin dress. It's figure-hugging and cut incredibly low at the back with a cowl neck. It's beautiful. It makes my tanned skin look even darker, thank God for my Italian heritage.

My brown eyes are appear golden on these summer nights. My black hair falls in waves to my waist, brushing the top of my bum. I smooth down my dress and check myself for anything that needs tweaking.

Hopefully I'll catch someone's eye tonight, or I'll be bored out of my mind.

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I don't take the car with my father and his wife; I don't want to be in their company longer than I need to. One my father's drivers takes me, and I enter the building unescorted.

I'm a little late, ten minutes past seven. Most of the guests have already arrived and are mingling in the ballroom. I swipe a flute of champagne off of a passing tray. I take a sip for Dutch courage and enter through the double doors.