Sold To My Ex’s Dad: An Age Gap, Secret Baby Romance (Silver Fox Daddies)

Chapter 5



Patrick looks every bit the model from a GQ photoshoot. From his perfectly tailored jeans that hug his frame in all the right places to that effortlessly styled hair, he’s a vision from a magazine cover. His presence feels almost surreal against the backdrop of my modest apartment, like a misplaced piece from a glamorous jigsaw puzzle.

‘Wow, did you get lost on your way to a photo shoot?’ I tease.

Patrick chuckles, and the sound fills the room with a subtle warmth. ‘Ha! No, this is exactly where I want to be. Though I have to admit, I was half expecting a red carpet and a runway.’

I can’t help but laugh, the tension easing with our witty banter. ‘Sorry to disappoint, but the only red carpet you’ll find here is probably from spilled wine from last week’s dinner mishap.’

He grins, and there’s a genuine delight in his eyes that makes my heart do a little flip. ‘Then I’ll consider myself duly warned.’

I catch him taking in the less-than-stellar surroundings with a careful eye. There’s no hint of disdain, more like concern that flickers across his face. It’s endearing, really, seeing him try to mask it with a smile.

‘Welcome to the glamorous side of Brooklyn,’ I say, a bit self-consciously.

Patrick’s gaze softens. ‘As long as I’m with you, I’m sure it’s the best tour I’ll ever get.’

With that, we head out. Stepping out onto the street, we make our way to his car—a sleek luxury ride that looks like it’s been teleported from a futuristic utopia compared to the rest of the surroundings. He opens the door for me with a flourish that’s both charming and slightly amusing, given our surroundings.

I notice Patrick’s vigilant eyes scanning the area as we settle in. It’s clear he’s out of his element, but there’s a protective vibe about him that I find unexpectedly reassuring.

‘Always on guard, huh?’ I comment as he slides into the driver’s seat.

He offers a half-smile, his attention still partially on the street. ‘Let’s just say I’m used to a different kind of jungle.’

I can’t help but find his concern sweet. ‘Well, don’t worry. I’ve navigated this one for years. I’ll keep you safe.’

His laughter fills the car, easing the last traces of tension between us. ‘I’m counting on it.’

As we pull away, the contrast between Patrick’s world and mine couldn’t be more stark. We merge onto the street, leaving my familiar neighborhood behind, and I find myself excited for the adventure ahead.

As Patrick navigates through the streets of Brooklyn, I lean back, allowing myself a moment to simply enjoy the ride. Being in a car in this part of the city feels like a novelty—I’m so used to being crammed into a subway car or chasing down a bus that the concept of personal transportation seems like a luxury. The smooth hum of the Audi’s engine and the gentle caress of the leather seats are a welcome change.

Before long, we arrive at the helicopter tour spot in southern Brooklyn. My excitement bubbles over as we step out of the car. The idea of seeing the city from above as the sun sets, painting the skyline in hues of gold and orange, is thrilling.

The pilot greets us with a warm smile and launches into the safety briefing with a practiced ease. I hang on to every word, not because I’m particularly concerned about safety, but because I can’t wait to get up in the air. The closer we get to takeoff, the more real it feels. This isn’t just any date; it’s an adventure.

As we approach the helicopter, Patrick places his hand on the small of my back, guiding me gently. The contact sends a shiver of excitement through me, a mix of anticipation for the flight and the electrifying touch of his hand. It’s a small gesture, but it feels intimate, protective, and incredibly exhilarating all at once.

After climbing into the helicopter, I settle into my seat, buckling up as I steal a glance at Patrick. He seems completely at ease, a stark contrast to the flutter of nerves and excitement I’m feeling. But there’s a look in his eyes, a shared excitement that tells me he’s just as eager for this experience as I am.

As the engine roars to life and we lift off the ground, the city begins to shrink beneath us, transforming into a sprawling canvas of lights and shadows. The setting sun casts a golden glow over everything, making the view even more spectacular than I had imagined.

I see him watching me out of the corner of his eye, a smile playing on his lips. It’s as if he’s seeing the city anew through my eyes. As the helicopter soars higher, all of my anxiety seems to dissipate, leaving only the pure joy of the moment.

Patrick and I are squished together in the small space, and despite the fact that we’ve each got our own window to look out of, he’s decided mine has the better view. Or maybe he just likes being this close. Either way, I’m not complaining. His body against mine is sending little zaps of electricity through me like I’m a human pinball machine.

When we land, my heart hasn’t quite decided to slow down yet. It’s doing this funny little dance, unsure if it’s more jazzed about the insane views we just saw or the fact that Patrick’s been in my personal bubble for the past hour. Trying to string together a coherent sentence feels like I’m learning to talk all over again as he guides me back to his car.

Once we’re nestled inside the Audi, he throws me a curveball.

‘Would you like to come to my place for dinner?’ he asks, his voice smooth and confident.

Every rom-com and crime show I’ve ever seen is screaming in my head that going to a near-stranger’s home isn’t smart. But looking at him and thinking about the connection that’s been buzzing between us all evening causes my yes to come out with barely a second thought. For good measure, though, I text Stacy the address because one can never be too careful.

Stacy’s response is swift. She sends a selfie with an older couple in the background and a message that just says: Have fun.

Before I know it, we’re pulling up to his brownstone in Park Slope, a neighborhood that’s as charming as it is swanky. It fits Patrick like a glove—sophisticated, inviting, and unmistakably chic New York.

As he reaches over to open the car door for me, everything goes into slow-mo. I’m about to throw a casual thanks his way, but the look he’s giving me zaps the word right out of my brain. It’s like he’s got electricity in his eyes, sparking something fierce within me. The air between us grows thick with this crackling tension like we’re both aware something’s about to happen, and neither of us wants to stop it.

He’s close enough that I can catch the scent of his cologne, something rich and just a tad spicy. The vibe is intense, like the prelude to a thunderstorm, and I soak it all in, completely caught up in the anticipation.

Patrick closes that tiny gap between us, his hand finding a spot on my back that apparently has a direct line to my knees because they go all wobbly. It’s a good thing I’m not standing. His touch is like a spark to dry tinder, setting off a warmth that spreads right through me.

We’re all over each other in a heartbeat—kissing and touching in a way that’s half desperate, half disbelieving of the insane amount of chemistry between us.

But right when things are heating up, Patrick pulls back with a grin. ‘You know, we’re not teenagers anymore,’ he jokes, a hint of mischief in his voice. “Adults don’t really make out in cars like this.”

I let out a laugh, caught between frustration and amusement. ‘You sure about that? Because you’re giving off some serious high school vibes right now.’

He chuckles, and there’s a warmth in his eyes that makes my heart do a funny little skip. ‘My apologies, madam. Allow me to retain some semblance of adulthood here.’

I reach for the door handle, ready to step out and attempt to regain a bit of my composure. But before I can, Patrick’s gentle reminder stops me. ‘Wait. Let me get that for you the proper way,’ he says, and there’s something in the way he says it, a kind of old-school chivalry that’s both charming and totally at odds with how we were just mauling each other.

So, I wait, watching as he strides around the front of the car, his gaze locked onto mine. It’s a look full of hunger and promise, and it sends my pulse racing all over again. The air between us is electric with anticipation, and as he opens my door, his smile tells me everything I need to know.

Stepping out of the car, I’m practically vibrating with excitement, my thoughts a whirlwind of what-ifs and can’t-waits. Patrick’s hand finds mine, his touch grounding yet thrilling, and as we head toward the door leading into his house, I can’t help but think that whatever Patrick has planned, I’m more than ready for it.

‘Lead the way,’ I say, my voice steady despite my racing heart.


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