Daddy’s Orders (Silver Fox Daddies)

“Mr. Stone, we’re about thirty minutes from landing.” The pilot’s voice snapped me out of my work focus. I glanced up, my eyes landing on Emily as she watched another episode of her program.

She was pissed. That much was obvious.

I’d noticed it the instant she’d emerged from the back of the plane after her shower, the way she’d stormed past me, her wet hair leaving behind the most intoxicating scent I could imagine.

It was fine with me. Perhaps she had a right to be upset after I’d taken her virginity and given her the cold shoulder. We had a month to spend together, and if she wanted to pass it with a sulking silent treatment, that was her prerogative.

Still, I couldn’t help but notice how distracting she was. Even something as simple as the way she ate a big bowl of ice cream while laughing along at her TV show was impossibly charming. Her light, lilting giggle punctuated by the occasional snort was adorable. And though it was clear she was attempting to pointedly exclude me by speaking in Spanish with Estella, I was impressed at how easily the previously isolated Emily was able to make a friend.

I didn’t get much work done on the flight, truth be told. Again and again, I found myself looking over at Emily, my gaze moving over her body and settling on her gorgeous face. It was impossible not to stare, to watch as a smile spread across her face at some on-screen joke.

She was irresistibly charming. The fact that she didn’t know how charming she was only increased the effect.

The TV automatically paused any time the pilot made an announcement. Emily took off her headphones and turned in my direction.

“Does that mean we’re about to land,” I said, preempting her question.

“We’re almost there?”

“That’s right.”

“Wow, time flies when you’re binge-watching.”

“I wouldn’t know, never been much for TV.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

I chuckled, shaking my head as I closed my laptop and began putting away my things.

“Watch the window,” I said. “Quite a view.”

She narrowed her eyes a bit, and I could sense that she was bristling at my command. Even so, she rose and sat down in one of the passenger seats, fastening her seatbelt and turning to look out of the window.

I did the same, sitting in the row behind her. Amid the seemingly endless blue of the Caribbean Sea, the smattering of the Virgin Islands provided a sharp contrast with their verdant greens.

“Where are we landing?” she asked, her eyes still on the window.

“Near Charlotte Amalie on St. Thomas,” I said. Largest city in the U.S. Virgin Islands. From there, we’ll sail to my island.”

She didn’t reply, instead taking in the view as we drew closer and closer to the ground. It wasn’t long before I could spot the port of Charlotte Amalie. A pair of massive cruise ships were in the bay, a very common sight from above.

We descended further, and I could make out a tense expression on Emily’s face. No doubt the novelty of flying hadn’t settled in just yet. As we descended, I felt the overwhelming urge to take her hand once more, as I’d done on the way up.

I decided against it. Emily was still upset with me, and there was no doubt that she’d reject my offer of comfort.

We touched down, a gasp sounding from her as the wheels connected with the pavement. The plane raced down the runway, the rolling, green hills surrounding the airport a blur as we moved.

“Is this normal?”

“It’s normal. We speed up, then we slow down.”

She didn’t have anything to say after that, instead choosing to have a white-knuckle grip on her arm rests. The plane soon slowed down, coming to a stop near the private airfield’s terminal. A chime sounded to let us know that the flight was over.

“That’s it?” she asked.

“That’s it. We’re here safe and sound.”

A breath of relief escaped from her. Emily quickly unbuckled her seatbelt and stood up, stretching and shaking the anxiety from her limbs.

“Wow. You do this all the time?”

“All the time. When you fly as often as I do, you don’t even think about it.”

She pursed her lips and glanced away.

The speaker came on once more. “Welcome to the Virgin Islands, Mr. Stone and Ms. Marone.” The voice on the intercom wasn’t the pilot’s, but Estella’s. “It’s a beautiful seventy-four degrees, with not a cloud to be seen. The private car is pulling up now, and as soon as the stairs are secure, we’ll have the doors open and you both on your way. A pleasure flying with you as always, Mr. Stone.”

I watched out of the window as the stairs pulled up to the door, the runway staff taking a moment to put everything into place. Estella came out from the cockpit, eagerly walking over to Emily, both speaking in Spanish as they chatted about one thing or another. I could sense from their gestures that they were discussing the flight.

The door opened moments later, a rush of warm air tinged with a bit of humidity coming into the cabin and intermingling with the chilly dryness inside. I was beyond eager to take in some sun, to have a little time on the water.

“Ready?” I asked, rising and coming around to offer my hand to Emily.

She regarded my hand with skepticism. “Ready.” Instead of taking it, she turned brusquely away and headed toward the door.

Estella and Emily chatted quickly in Spanish, finishing the conversation with a warm hug. Estella led Emily the rest of the way to the door and gestured down the stairs. I followed behind as we descended.

The sun hit me right away, a pleased smile spreading across my face as I closed my eyes and let the warmth hit me. After a rough New York winter and chilly spring, a little bit of paradise was just what I needed.

About halfway down the stairs, Emily stopped so abruptly that I nearly walked right into her.

“Something wrong?”

She said nothing at first, simply looking forward.

“It’s… I don’t know. It just hit me that I’m thousands of miles away from my dad. I’m not free. But this is the closest I’ve ever been.”

I didn’t reply at first, letting her words hang in the air. It was a candid admission, considering she was still upset with me. It was also one to which I couldn’t relate. Ever since I was a young man I came and went as I pleased. Sure, I was responsible for the company, but it was mine. Answering to anyone was something I simply didn’t understand.

“The views get better from here,” I said. “Come on, we’ve got a bit of a trek in front of us.”

We reached the ground, the staff already waiting with our bags. A sleek, black Land Rover awaited us. I nodded to the crew to load the bags inside. Once more, Emily held her personal bag close, as if someone might pluck it from her at any moment. I was curious as to what was inside but didn’t want to pry.

Once the bags were loaded into the back of the car, I took the keys from the staff member and went around to the passenger side to open the door and help Emily inside.

She paused once she realized what I was doing.

“I’m more than capable of getting into a car on my own, you know.”

I chuckled, stepping back and sweeping my hand toward the interior of the car.

“Then don’t let me stop you.”

Seconds later, I was behind the wheel. I opened a compartment just above my head, letting a pair of Ray Bans fall out and into my hand. I slipped them on, started the engine and took one more look at Emily to make sure she was OK. She sat with her bag on her lap, her arms folded over top of it.

“Ready?” I asked.

She nodded without saying a word. I pulled forward, taking us onto a winding road offering a sweeping view high enough to see a large part of the island of St. Thomas and the ocean beyond.

“Let me give you the lay of the land,” I said as I drove. I pointed toward the water. “That’s Charlotte Amalie, the largest city in the Virgin Islands. Now, when I say, ‘largest city,’ don’t think of New York. Charlotte Amalie is around eleven thousand people, meaning you could tuck it into Brooklyn and not notice it for a week. That’s the port and our destination. Our first one, at least. We’ll be taking my boat to the island from there. Whenever we want to get out and about and have some fun, we will come back here to St. Thomas.”

She said nothing, and I could tell that Emily was content to silently take everything in on her own terms. No doubt that going from her isolated life with her father in Long Island to paradise was something she’d need a little time to wrap her head around.

We drove on. I put some classic rock on the player, The Rolling Stones flowing from the speakers as we made our way to the port. The city was a resort paradise. American tourists in Bermuda shorts, flowered shirts and Panama hats packed the streets, locals mixed in among them. The Virgin Islands were a popular destination for the wealthy, and it was clear just by looking at the tourists that they had money.

“We can come here if we’re looking for something to do,” I said. “Lots of restaurants and cafes and places to shop. I have most of my supplies airlifted in, but now and then I’ll take the boat over to do my own shopping and take in the culture.”

It wasn’t a long drive at all to reach Charlotte Amalie. I drove to the docks, dozens of boats of all shapes and sizes floating in the harbor, the place alive with activity. I parked, another squad of staff there to take out our bags and bring them to the harbor. A lovely breeze hit us just as we stepped out of the car that made me want to get out of my heavy business clothes and change into something linen.

Speaking of clothes, as we made our way to the harbor, I couldn’t help but imagine what Emily might choose to wear once we arrived. I pictured her dressed in a skimpy bikini, her olive skin glistening with oil as she lounged in the sun. I was going to give her space while she stayed with me, but the mere idea of her dressed like that was enough to make me want to pounce on her the moment we reached the boat.

“Here we are,” I said, gesturing to a modest-sized boat, a motor sailor with the word Serendipity written on the side. I nodded to the staff, instructing them to load the bags into the boat.

“This is nice,” she said, approaching the boat as it bobbed in the water, placing her hand on the side.

The Serendipity wasn’t that big; about the size of two large trucks placed in front of each other.

“I can’t believe you have a boat. I mean, my dad has one, but it’s about half this size, just something big enough to take out fishing.”

“If you like this, you’ll love the other one.”

She turned to me, cocking her head to the side in confusion. “The… other one?”

I chuckled, casting a glance at the staff as they stowed the last few bags. I tossed the car keys to one of them.

“This is the way I get back and forth between Saint Thomas and my island. My other boat, the one I use for cruising, is at my place.”

Emily regarded me with more confusion, her mouth opened slightly. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Come on,” I said. “The ride over to the island isn’t long, but I’m ready to get there and relax.”

She nodded again, that overwhelmed expression still on her face. Emily was so overwhelmed, in fact, that she actually took my hand when it was offered to her as I helped her onto the boat. Once aboard, she sat down on the U-shaped couch that half-circled the back end of the deck, putting on her seatbelt as I got situated at the controls.

Once the harbor staff gave the all clear, I started the boat, the powerful engine growling to life as it warmed up. The Serendipity was easy to drive, was similar to handling a large truck. After a little maneuvering, I was out of the harbor and on the open ocean.

A big smile spread across my face as I drove. I was a city guy at heart, and nothing could compare to the magic of New York. However, there was something to be said for being out on the ocean, the sun bathing you in warm light, the hush of the waves carrying the salt rich air all around you. I savored it, allowing the pleasure of the water to momentarily push aside the distraction of what might have been the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life.

It didn’t take long at all before our destination was in sight.

“See that?” I asked, pointing up ahead at a white object in the distance.

Emily squinted, focusing on the object. “Is that a yacht?”

I nodded. “That’s the Endeavor, my main ocean vessel. One of the finest ships on the sea if I do say so myself. It’s parked at my estate. We’re nearly there.”

She nodded, not taking her eyes off the middle distance.

“That whole island… it’s yours?”

“It is.”

Emily shook her head in disbelief as we drew closer. The estate was visible before too long, the multibuilding complex causing a feeling of relaxation to wash over me just at the sight of it.

“Let me tell you about the place,” I said, putting the boat on autopilot and turning to face Emily. “It’s more a complex than a house. It’s eight buildings in total, but three of them are for logistics—bedrooms for the staff, a warehouse for supplies, and a garage. The main building has ten bedrooms and twelve baths, a pool, and just about everything else you could possibly want. There’s a path that makes its way across the entire island, with a branch that leads to the very top. The island isn’t huge—about three square miles in total, a little over twice the size of Central Park. But that’s more than enough space for my needs.”

I pointed toward the center of the island, a tree-covered rise smaller than a mountain but bigger than a hill.

“Very nice views up there, and the perfect distance from the house for a hike or jog. There’s a hot tub, live-in chef, private grotto… plenty to keep you busy. I also have a private arrangement with Amazon, so whatever you need can be delivered nearly as quickly as anywhere else in the country.”

Her mouth hung open as the estate grew larger, the sandy strip of private beach cutting under the palatial form of the main building.

“There are rules, however,” I went on.

“Rules? What kind of rules?”

“You’re mine for the next month,” I said. “In case you needed a reminder. While you’re allowed to go anywhere you like on the island, you’re not allowed to leave without my permission.”

She laughed. “Well, duh. Where would I go? I can’t even drive a car, let alone steal a boat.”

“That makes matters a little easier, then. Anyway, you’ll have your own bedroom, and free rein of the house. You can go wherever you like, aside from my private office. It’s locked, so you won’t be able to enter. Even so, you’re not allowed inside under any circumstances without my explicit permission.”

She said nothing, but I could tell her mind was racing with possibilities of what might be in there. Fine with me, she could wonder all she wanted.

“The head of household matters is a woman named Pearl Shepard. She’s worked with me since I’ve owned the island, and she’s about as capable a manager as they come. You need anything, she’s the one to talk to. Roberto Sanchez is the head of security. Barring any unforeseen happenings, you won’t need to speak to him. Just know that there is a staff of four security guards on duty at all times. If anything strange happens, or you feel unsafe for any reason, he’s the man to inform.”

I considered my words after I spoke. Charles was planning something for certain. For all I knew, Emily was in on it with him. Nothing to be done about it at that exact moment in time, but I’d need to have a meeting with Roberto sooner than later.

The boat brought us closer to the shore, allowing a better view of my yacht.

“This is insane,” Emily said, rushing over to the side of the boat to get a better look at the massive vessel.

“She’s just over three hundred feet long, three stories high, and like the estate, has just about every amenity you could want. There’s a helipad, a pool and hot tub, and eight bedrooms below.”

She said nothing, her silence letting me know just how impressed she was.

“Where can you go in that?” she asked. “I mean, it’s like a floating palace.”

“Wherever I want. She stays in the Caribbean, mostly, though I’ll take her up and down the east coast quite often. We’ve even gone all the way to Europe once. Let me tell you, if you’re going to spend two or three weeks at sea, Endeavor is the way to do it. Don’t worry—we’ll take her out for a spin during your month here.”

Just the sight of Endeavor was enough to put me in a relaxed frame of mind. Nothing back in New York required my attention to be onsite, so it was more than feasible to do a little work at sea.

I turned my focus to the dock, spotting a tall, imposing figure awaiting me. By his height and powerful frame, I could tell right away that it was Roberto. He waved me in, and within a few minutes I was moored.

I hopped off the boat and onto the deck, turning to assist Emily.

“Roberto,” I said, offering my hand for a shake. “Good to see you.”

“Likewise, my friend.”

We shook, his big mitt about as large as mine.

Roberto Sanchez was one of my most trusted employees. A former lieutenant in the Mexican Special Forces, I’d used my contacts to scoop him up within a month of his retirement when I had need for a head of private security. He was forty-three, built like a brick wall, his hair long and curly, the same ink-black color as the thick moustache under his nose. He was all angles, built like an action figure. He did good work for me and was one of the few people I trusted with my life. As such, he was one of the most well-compensated members among the thousands of men and women on my payroll.

He was gruff as they came, too. Roberto crossed his arms over his barrel chest, furrowing his brow at the sight of Emily.

“This the girl?” Roberto’s English was perfect. Aside from the Northern Mexican accent on his words, there was no indication he wasn’t a native speaker.

“Hi,” Emily said, offering her hand. “I’m Emily Marone.”

Roberto sized her up once more. No doubt he, like me, was keenly aware of how gorgeous she was. The consummate professional, however, he gave her the sort of once-over that made it clear he wanted to know if she was trouble.

“Roberto.” He took her hand and shook it in a professional and polite manner. He didn’t say another word before turning to me. “The staff will come for your bags, Logan.”

“Excellent,” I replied. “Let’s get inside. I’m desperate for a little rest and relaxation.”

With that, we started toward the house. Emily made her way in front of me, my eyes going right to that perfect ass of hers.

With a wry smile, I considered how rest and relaxation weren’t the only things on my mind. I could behave myself, sure. But with a woman like Emily, I had to ask myself the question of how long?