Boss Daddy: Chapter 9

“This is crazy.”

I know I agreed just a few minutes ago, but the reality of what Samuel proposed is suddenly hitting me hard.

“I can’t move into your place.”

“Erin, listen to me. You aren’t safe at your apartment if Misha knows where you live. For now, you need to stay somewhere else.” He glances away as if something just occurred to him. “And your neighborhood…” He trails off, but I know what he’s thinking.

“It’s fine.”

He lets out a sharp laugh. “Fine? Erin, Central West might be an eclectic tourist attraction, but it’s also the most dangerous part of the city. It’s unlikely that something happening to someone there would even get the Denver PD’s attention. Misha could hurt you and no one would ever know.”

He holds my gaze, his expression unrelenting, like he’s made a decision and nothing I say will change it. And the truth sits there, ugly and undeniable.

He’s right.

“But still… staying at your place?”

Samuel’s stance softens just a fraction. “Well, do you have anywhere else to stay?”

The immediate response on the tip of my tongue is a lie. Something about a friend’s couch, a place out of town. The thought of going to my father’s house makes my stomach churn. I can almost see it—the disapproving glares, the suffocating control. Living there would be like locking myself in a gilded cage and throwing away the key. I’d rather sleep on the street. Not only that, but I can’t go back.

I just can’t.

My mouth opens, the lie ready to spill, but Samuel’s eyes narrow. His gaze sharpens, dark and knowing. It’s like he can read my thoughts, like he’s already picked apart the half-truth I’m trying to build.

“Don’t,” he says, leaving no room for discussion. “Don’t lie to me.”

I exhale sharply, the fight draining out of me. My shoulders slump, the weight of reality settling in. He knows. He sees right through me. There’s no point in pretending.

“No. I don’t.”

Saying it out loud makes it real. I have nowhere to go. No backup plan. No safety net.

“Well, now you do.”

A cold shiver races down my spine, but not from fear. It feels more like relief.

Samuel nods. “It’s settled then. I’ll drive you to your place so you can pack a bag, then you’ll stay with me until this Misha issue is dealt with one way or another.”

I’ve heard offers like this before, and the question rises in my mind: What does he want in return? I’ve learned the hard way that nothing is free. Any time a man has reached out a hand to help, there’s always been a catch.

The burn of past betrayals flares up, and for a moment, I’m drowning in old memories and fresh fear.

“I don’t want anything from you, Erin,” he says as if reading my damn mind again. “I just want to make sure you’re safe. I’d do this for any employee.”

“Yeah. That’s what a lot of men say.”

It’s a defense mechanism—one I’ve used so many times before it feels like a reflex. But this time, the words feel hollow.

Samuel doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t pull away or bristle. Instead, he reaches out and takes my hand, his grip firm and warm, grounding me. His thumb brushes over my knuckles as his eyes meet mine.

“I want nothing from you,” he says. “Nothing in exchange. All I’m thinking about right now is your safety.”

“Is that right?”

“That’s right. Hell, if you need me to, I’ll give you some money to get you out of the city. But—”

“But what?”

The corner of his lips curl slightly. “But I kind of like having you here.”

I search his eyes for any sign of deceit, any shadow of hidden intention. But all I see is truth. Dependability. A man who means exactly what he says.

The walls I’ve built crack just a little. Maybe I should let myself believe him but fear still curls in my gut.

I nod, a small movement, but it feels like stepping off a ledge. “Okay.”

I know Misha doesn’t tolerate defiance, doesn’t forget a slight. I’m not the first woman who has refused his “requirements.” I know what happens to girls who cross him. Some disappear. Some come back so broken, they’re barely recognizable.

If he gets his hands on me, it won’t be a warning, it’ll be an ending.

A brutal one.

The weight of that fear climbs up my throat, threatening to choke me. I look at Samuel again. He hasn’t moved—his hand still holds mine and his eyes remain locked on me.

“Okay. You made the right call. Trust me—my place is as safe as they come. A hell of a lot safer than the fuckin’ West Central.”

“Hey, West Central has its charms.”

“Yeah, if you consider the smell of piss and garbage charming.”

That gets a laugh out of me. Samuel’s eyes soften, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. His thumb brushes my knuckles and it anchors me.

I take a shaky breath, a deep one to fill the empty spaces inside. For the first time in a long time, I’m allowing myself to trust a man. The walls are still there, but a door has opened, just a crack.

“Come on,” he says. “My car’s parked out back.”

“The keys.”

“Huh?”

“The keys. I dropped them into a grate.”

For a second, I wonder if he’s going to be pissed, but he only laughs.

“It’s fine. I’ve got my own set. Speaking of keys, I’m guessing James forgot his and that’s why he came back. I guess he can grab them tomorrow when he comes in.” He strides over to the front door and locks it from the inside. “Let’s go.”

I take one more steeling breath before following him. We head through the back hall of the club toward the rear entrance which leads out into a small parking lot. The space is dominated by a massive, black SUV that looks like something the president of a small nation would be driven around in.

“That’s me,” he says. As if I thought it could belong to anyone else.

I walk over to the SUV feeling a little intimidated, dwarfed by the size of it. He approaches and opens the passenger door, guiding me in with a gentle push upon the small of my back. The inside feels like being in a futuristic tank.

Samuel closes my door and rounds the vehicle, climbing into the driver’s seat. The SUV rumbles to life, the low growl of the engine vibrating through the seats. It’s the kind of ride that looks like it could bulldoze through anything, and right now, that’s exactly what I need.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

I feel safe. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, and I’m not sure if I should lean into it or question it.

Samuel’s hands grip the wheel, his eyes focused on the road. “I’ll drive you to and from work. Don’t worry about getting around.”

“I don’t know, Samuel. Having a personal chauffeur doesn’t feel right.”

He laughs. “I’m going to guess being stalked by a former boss doesn’t feel right either. Just a matter of picking your poison.”

I flick my eyes over at him. “Good point.”

He takes in a slow draw of air through his nose. “Listen, I know this is six different kinds of fucked up, but I’m going to do my best to make sure you’re taken care of, that you’re safe.”

All I can do is nod, my throat tight.

The lights of Denver blur past, streaks of neon and headlights flashing through the tinted windows. My mind spins, trying to process everything that just happened. I stare out the window, words jumbling in my head, none of them making any sense.

After a while, I clear my throat. “So, what’s your place like?”

He glances at me briefly before answering. “I have a cabin about thirty minutes outside of town. Nothing fancy, just comfortable.”

“You own land in Denver?”

“Thirty acres. No big deal,” he replies.

I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t think thirty acres in Denver is a big deal? Hate to see what you think is.”

A ghost of a smile tugs at his lips. “You’ll see for yourself.”

I feel a flicker of excitement bubble up and it surprises me. I’ve never been in a fancy cabin out in the middle of nowhere. Most of my life has been a series of cramped, rundown spaces in big cities. Part of me wonders if I’ll feel out of place, but another part is curious, eager to see a world that’s always been out of reach.

The excitement fades as we turn onto my street. The buildings loom dark and grimy. My jaw tightens as he scans the surroundings, his eyes sharp. He pulls to a stop and glances around the dimly lit block, his hand reaching for the glove compartment. He pops it open, and I catch a glimpse of a gun inside.

My breath hitches. He came prepared.

He looks at me, his voice low. “You want me to come with you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

He studies me for a second then nods. “I’ll be right here.”

I grip the door handle, taking a deep breath. The night air feels colder now. I step out, squaring my shoulders. The door clicks shut behind me, and I walk toward the building.

One bag. In and out.