"Use your voice,” I order smoothly.
She takes a deep breath; her uncertainty in my presence never ceases to please me.
"Do we have a mortgage?" she asks quietly.
Not what I was expecting...
I clasp my hands in my lap, the veins in my arms pulsing as I ward off arousal pumping through me. She does that to me. Just by existing. "Why do you ask, sweet girl?"
She shrugs a little, her true reason for asking hidden in that little gesture. "Do we?"
I indulge her. "No. We do not."
That’s not entirely true. Our many companies have debt no more than they are worth. We do not have debt in the traditional sense. We owe nothing; our houses, gold, and money are old, foreign, too old to tax, too old to trace without getting lost in a sea of tangled conglomerates, holding companies, and subsidiaries.
"Oh." She muses, stalling and looking at her feet as though they give her courage.
I smile, waiting for her next question and the true point of this conversation.
"How much is our house worth?"
She's adorable. "How much do you think?"
She blushes. "Lots"
My smile widens. "Yes. 'Lots.'“
"So, we don't have any credit with a bank, then?"
"No." I trail my gaze around her body, enjoying all her nervous little shuffling. "We own everything we have." I keep my answers simple. She doesn’t need to understand securities-backed loans or business debt.
"I see," she says as I eye her with amusement. "Stop it, Sir. You're torturing me here."
"I'm simply waiting for you to get to the point, little deer. Though I quite enjoy your detours."
She squares her shoulders, the way she does when she wants to be taken seriously. I always take you seriously, sweet girl. "Can I have a credit card, Sir?"
"Ah, there we are. What on earth do you need a credit card for? I will buy you anything that pleases you."
Is this about tipping?
She straightens further. "I want credit."
"You'll never need credit."
She steps towards me slowly as though I'm someone dangerous, and she's not sure she'll be safe. My cock thickens in response to her nervousness. It’s fucking addictive. How can a young woman who has endured so much still carry this enchanting fragility? I will protect that. I will be her thorns so she can be soft and delicate always.
"But how will I learn to manage money, Sir?"
"Christ." I widen my legs and nod an order to the mink rug at my feet. "Why do you want to manage money?"
She slinks to the floor at my feet and rests her head in my lap. I comb my fingers through her long blonde hair, gazing down on her, entirely enamoured by the way her big dual-coloured eyes peer up pleadingly. I know what she wants, though I very much wish to spread her open on my desk and eat her pussy.
With my eyes fixed on her, I unbuckle my belt, leaving the leather straps open, and then grip her chin. Tilting her head, I say, “Do you want to suck my cock while I work, little deer? Is that what you want?”
She nods.
“Then tell me why you want to manage money?” I say. She had money. I offered her Dustin’s portfolio—his entire worth in our collective businesses. She didn’t want it. She asked thatit go to his other daughters—such is my sweet girl’s nature. She wanted nothing to do with him or from him. Only me.
