Mile High Daddy: Chapter 4

I’ve dealt with complicated people my whole life. Men who lie without blinking, women who see through every facade, allies who smile to your face while plotting your downfall. I’ve learned to read them all—study their tells, their weaknesses, their desires. And yet, here I am, sitting across from Lila Evans, utterly confounded by a woman who seems to be nothing but herself.

She’s so unguarded, so completely unpolished, that it’s disarming. It makes her dangerous in a way I can’t quite name. She doesn’t even realize the kind of power she has, the kind of hold she’s managed to take over me in just a few hours.

The way she talks is a constant shift between endearing nervousness and surprising boldness, like she’s caught between wanting to impress the world and refusing to care what it thinks of her.

And her eyes…those wide, expressive eyes that betray every thought, every emotion, no matter how much she tries to hide it. She looks at me like she’s trying to figure me out, trying to decide if she can trust me. If she knew the truth, she wouldn’t hesitate to run.

Which is why I can’t tell her. Not yet.

I glance at her from the corner of my eye as Torres drives us toward New York. She’s staring out the window, her lips parted slightly, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. A strand of hair has fallen loose, curling against her cheek, and I have the sudden, irrational urge to brush it back for her.

This woman…she’s derailing my plans without even realizing it. I was supposed to be in New York by now, focused on the meeting that’s waiting for me. My world doesn’t allow for distractions, doesn’t allow for softness. And yet, here I am, offering to drive her across states, introducing her to luxuries I wouldn’t normally think twice about, watching her laugh over fries like it’s the first time I’ve smiled in months.

She turns toward me suddenly, catching me watching her. I don’t look away, letting my smirk slide into place.

“What?” she asks, her tone defensive but tinged with curiosity.

“Nothing,” I say smoothly, leaning back in my seat. “You just seem…relaxed.”

Her brow furrows slightly, and she glances at her phone, which has been buzzing relentlessly since we left the Burger King. Randall’s name flashes on the screen again, but she doesn’t pick up.

“I’m ignoring him,” she says, almost to herself. “For the first time, I’m ignoring him.”

I feel a flicker of pride at that. It’s small, maybe insignificant, but it’s a step.

“Good,” I say, my tone firm. “He doesn’t deserve your attention.”

She looks at me, her lips curving into a small, uncertain smile. “What if I change my mind later?”

I shrug, keeping my voice light. “Then you change your mind. But for now, enjoy the silence.”

Torres’s phone buzzes in the front seat, and I see his hand shift slightly as he checks the screen. A moment later, my own phone vibrates with a text. I pull it out and glance at the message.

Torres: Is it a good idea not to tell her who we are?

My jaw tightens slightly as I type back.

Me: Not now.

Our gazes meet briefly in the rearview mirror, and I see the silent question in his eyes. I give him a slight nod, and he returns his attention to the road.

Lila sighs softly beside me, her gaze fixed out the window again. She has no idea what kind of world she’s sitting next to, no idea how much I’m holding back just to keep her here, in this fragile bubble of normalcy.

We finally reach the outskirts of New York, the city lights stretching endlessly into the night. The energy of the city is palpable even from here, and Lila seems to perk up slightly, her shoulders relaxing as the familiar skyline comes into view.

Torres pulls up to a hotel, a sleek, modern building with floor-to-ceiling windows glowing softly in the evening light. I step out first, holding the door for her. She hesitates as she steps out, glancing up at the building.

“This is…way too nice,” she says, her voice filled with both awe and apprehension. “I can’t afford this.”

I smirk, gesturing toward the entrance. “Consider it my treat. It’s the least I can do since you introduced me to the wonders of fries and burgers.”

She laughs softly, shaking her head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” I reply, placing a hand lightly on her back to guide her toward the lobby.

She hesitates again at the entrance, biting her lip. “I don’t know. This feels…extravagant.”

I lean closer, my voice dropping slightly. “Relax, Lila. Let me take care of this.”

She meets my gaze, and after a moment, she nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Fine. But only because it’s been a long day.”

Inside the hotel, the air is warm, fragrant, and impossibly quiet compared to the bustling streets outside. Lila looks around with wide eyes, taking in the sleek marble floors, the towering glass walls, and the soft lighting that gives the entire space a golden glow.

“I’m serious,” she says, turning back to me. “I’ll pay you back for this. It might take me a while, but I will.”

Her sincerity is endearing, if not a little absurd. I raise an eyebrow, fighting the urge to laugh. “You don’t need to worry about that, kiska.”

“No, really,” she insists, her chin lifting slightly in that stubborn way I’ve already come to recognize. “I don’t expect handouts. I’ll figure it out.”

I study her, my gaze lingering on her face—the flush in her cheeks, the soft curve of her jaw, the way her green eyes light up when she’s determined. She has no idea how much she stands out here, how out of place she looks in a space like this while somehow making it feel less…cold.

But more than that, she has no idea how much I already know about her.

The promise she’s making is laughable, but I don’t say that. Because what would she do if she knew the truth? That I’ve known her name, her voice, her face long before we met on that plane.

She doesn’t know, and I can’t tell her. Not yet.

Instead, I let my eyes drift over her, drinking her in like she’s something I’ve spent years searching for. Her hair is a deep auburn, wild and wavy around her shoulders in a way that makes me want to tangle my fingers in it. Her skin is pale and freckled, glowing faintly in the soft light of the lobby. And her lips—God, her lips. Full, pink, and entirely too distracting when she bites down on them like that, as if she doesn’t realize the effect it has.

She’s beautiful in a way that feels…honest. Not the manufactured, calculated beauty I’m used to, but something raw, unfiltered. It’s infuriating.

And worse, it’s intoxicating.

Even standing a foot away from me, I can feel the heat radiating off her. Her scent—soft, subtle, something floral—wraps around me, invading every rational thought. My body reacts before my mind can stop it, the ache building low and insistent. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to step back just slightly, though it does nothing to temper the way my pulse quickens.

She has no idea what she’s doing to me.

“I mean it, Mikhail,” she says, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You can’t just pay for everything. It’s…not fair.”

She looks so earnest, so determined to argue over something she can’t possibly afford. It’s impossible, given her modest teacher’s salary and the kind of life she’s used to. But I don’t laugh, because the truth is, I like this about her. Her stubbornness. Her pride.

“We can figure that out later,” I say. “Both of us had a long day.”

My gaze lingers on her. I want her to know what I’m thinking about—our kiss on the plane—and she does, ducking her head away. I smirk.

I watch her as she turns back to the receptionist, her auburn waves catching the light. There’s an innocence to her, a softness she doesn’t seem to realize she has. She doesn’t belong in this world—my world. But I’m a selfish man.

“Relax, kiska,” I say, my voice dipping lower as I step just a fraction closer to her. Close enough to feel her warmth, to watch the faint flush creep up her neck. “You’ll thank me later.”

Her lips part slightly, like she’s about to argue, but no words come out. I take satisfaction in that, in the small victory of her silence, before stepping back again.

“A suite,” I say smoothly, sliding my ID across the counter.

Lila’s head snaps toward me so fast I half expect her to pull a muscle.

“A suite?” she repeats, her voice rising slightly.

The receptionist looks between us, her polite smile unwavering as she begins typing into her computer.

“Yes,” I reply, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Lila crosses her arms, her cheeks already pink. “Don’t you think that’s…presumptuous?”

I glance at her, letting my smirk tug at the corner of my mouth. “Presumptuous?”

She huffs, her blush deepening. “I mean, just because you’re paying doesn’t mean⁠—”

I cut her off, my voice calm but firm. “Separate rooms, kiska.”

Her mouth falls open slightly, and I watch as her blush spreads from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. The sight makes something stir deep inside me, and I fight the urge to lean closer, to tease her further.

“Oh,” she stammers, looking down at her shoes. “Right. Of course. I knew that.”

I chuckle softly, turning back to the receptionist, who’s now fighting to hide her own amusement. “Something spacious, with two bedrooms,” I say, ignoring Lila’s flustered state.

“Of course, sir,” the receptionist replies, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “We have a beautiful suite available on the top floor. Would you like me to arrange for your luggage to be brought up?”

I nod. “Yes.”

Lila shifts beside me, still avoiding my gaze, her embarrassment radiating off her in waves.

“Here are your room keys,” the receptionist says, handing me two sleek black cards. “The elevators are just to your left. Please let us know if there’s anything you need.”

I thank her and take the keys, handing one to Lila. She hesitates before taking it, her fingers brushing mine briefly.

“Ready?” I ask, tilting my head toward the elevators.

She nods, her blush still firmly in place as she follows me.

We step into the elevator, and I press the button for the top floor. The doors slide shut, and the silence feels heavy, charged with unspoken tension. Lila shifts awkwardly, clutching her key card like it’s a lifeline.

“You’re quiet,” I say, breaking the silence.

She glances at me, her blush creeping back. “I just…wasn’t expecting…”

“A suite?” I finish for her, my tone teasing.

“Yes,” she says, her voice sharper now, as if she’s trying to reclaim some dignity. “And separate rooms, obviously.”

“Obviously,” I reply, my smirk widening.

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open to reveal a plush, carpeted hallway. I gesture for her to step out first, and she does, her shoulders still tense.

We find the suite at the end of the hallway, and I unlock the door, pushing it open to reveal a sprawling space bathed in soft, warm light. A living area with sleek furniture stretches before us, and two separate bedrooms are visible on opposite sides of the suite.

Lila steps inside, her eyes widening as she takes it all in.

“This is…wow,” she says, her voice breathless.

“Not bad, is it?” I reply, setting my bag down near the door.

She turns to me, her lips twitching into a faint smile. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

I step closer, just enough to make her glance up at me, her green eyes catching the light. “You’ve seen nothing yet, kiska.”

Her blush returns, and she quickly turns away, mumbling something about finding her room. I watch her retreat, my smirk softening into something else—something I can’t quite name. I’ve lived long enough to know better. To know she’s too young, too untouched for a man like me. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting her.

As much as I want to push, to see just how far that blush will spread, I remind myself that patience is a virtue. For now, this is enough.

Dinner arrives quickly after I step out, freshened up.

I ordered enough to ensure she’d eat—roasted chicken, grilled vegetables, fresh bread, and a bottle of wine to take the edge off her nerves. The hotel staff sets everything up on the table in the living area, efficient and silent, before leaving us alone again.

Lila sits curled up on the couch, glass of wine already in hand, her face turned toward the window.

I take a seat across from her, pouring myself a glass, but I don’t drink. Instead, I watch her, her auburn hair falling in soft waves around her face, her green eyes fixed on the glass in her hands.

“You should slow down,” I say, my voice calm but firm.

She glances up, her lips curving into a faint, almost defiant smile. “Why? Afraid I can’t handle it?”

“No,” I reply, leaning back in my chair. “But I think you’re trying to drown something, and that rarely works.”

Her smile fades, and she sets the glass down with a sigh. “Maybe I am,” she admits. “This is…a lot. Everything about today has been a lot.”

I nod, giving her the space to continue.

“For the first time in my life,” she says softly, “I just…ran away. From everything. From my responsibility, from the person everyone expects me to be.” She looks at me, her eyes glassy but determined. “It’s terrifying.”

“And freeing,” I add, my tone lighter, teasing.

Her lips twitch, but she doesn’t fully smile. “Maybe a little.”

I take a sip of my wine, studying her. “It’s not the worst thing, you know. Running. Sometimes it’s the only way to figure out where you’re supposed to be.”

She laughs softly, shaking her head. “You sound like you have a lot of experience in that department.”

“Perhaps,” I say, letting the word hang in the air.

She picks up her glass again, swirling the wine but not drinking it. “You’re not what I expected, Mikhail.”

“And what did you expect?”

“I don’t know,” she says, her voice quiet. “But not…this.”

I smirk, watching as she takes another sip. Her cheeks are rosier now, her shoulders a little more relaxed, though there’s still something guarded about her.

“You’re thinking too much again,” I say, setting my glass down. “You need a distraction.”

Her gaze sharpens slightly, her curiosity piqued. “Like what?”

I let my smirk deepen, leaning forward slightly. “Well, we could always revisit what you said on the plane.”

Her eyes widen, and for a moment, she looks genuinely flustered. But then she surprises me—her expression softens, and she leans back, meeting my gaze head-on.

“I’m not ashamed of being a virgin,” she says defiantly. I like her—too much already.

“You shouldn’t be,” I reply, my tone more serious now.

She tilts her head, studying me. “Are you?”

I raise an eyebrow, unsure if she’s teasing or genuinely asking. “A virgin?”

She nods.

“No,” I say simply, waiting for her reaction.

She smiles faintly, her confidence growing. “Didn’t think so.”

The air between us shifts, almost crackling.

“I don’t want to sound desperate,” she says suddenly. “I’m twenty-four already. I haven’t been on a date for the past few months. People just cancel on me, and at this point, I’m not sure if it’s ever going to happen. God, I thought I would die today as a virgin.” She hesitates, biting her lip as her eyes drop to her glass. “But…what if we…?”

My body tightens, every instinct screaming at me to stop this now. She’s here, in New York. I should be making the call, letting her father know where she is. That’s the plan. That’s why I’m here.

But then she looks up at me, her green eyes wide and unguarded, and I feel the pull of her like a vise around my chest.

“What?” I ask, my voice rougher than I intended.

“What if I want you to make love to me?” she says.