Blow Daddy And Your Mom Lives

The phone lit up on Sarah’s desk, vibrating incessantly. Derek’s name glowed against the dark screen.

Her pulse jumped hard in her throat. A thin film of sweat gathered at the small of her back under the silk of her blouse. It was the same quiet reaction she got every morning when she heard his footsteps. You would think answering phones for him every day would have chased it away, but no.

Still there, sucking the joy out of her days. Keeping her constantly on edge.

“God, Sarah. He’s your boss. Derek Hale is just a name. Your relationship is strictly professional,” she chanted under her breath, trying to convince herself of the same lie she had been telling since she met the reclusive billionaire tycoon.

She stared at the name a second longer than she should have. Slight reluctance lived in the space between one breath and the next.

She was his secretary.

Unfortunately, that meant she had to answer, whether she liked who he was married to or not. Steeling her nerves and taking a deep breath, she grabbed the buzzing phone and answered.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Hale? You're never late to work,” the twenty two year old blurted out as politely as she could. “Your nine o’clock—”

“Will have to wait,” he said, his deep, gruff voice sending butterflies flying in her tummy. “We’re at the hospital. Your mom and I were in a car accident on our way to work. Get here. Now.”

The words landed cold, like it was just another Tuesday. To the point. Cutthroat. Just like him and yet the sound of his voice still moved through her, winding her.

The world stilled. Her heart jumped into her throat. Sarah clutched at her chest, feeling like she couldn't breathe.

Her hand fell from her chest and gripped the edge of the desk until the wood bit into her palm. Her pulse raced for two reasons at once.

A split second. A tiny what if.

Then her conscience caught up with her.

What the fuck was wrong with her? Derek was her step father. Husband of the woman in a fucking hospital. The woman who gave her life.

That may be, but…

No fucking but. Focus.

“Jesus Christ, Derek. Is she okay?” Sarah yelled into the receiver, eyes already heavy with unshed tears.

She stood. The chair rolled back and struck the wall with a soft thud. Papers slid across the desk and fluttered to the floor. Chaos reigned as she yanked her bag from the drawer with hands that were not quite steady.

“She is not. She needs emergency surgery. Get here, Miss Donovan,” he said, still cool as a cucumber, irking the living daylights out of Sarah.

Break it to me gently, why don't you?

“Of course. On my way,” she agreed hurriedly. “But is she going to make—”

The line went dead.

“Asshole,” she cursed, as the first tears flowed.

Her heels struck the corridor floor too hard as she rushed to get to the elevator, which felt too slow once she got into it. When she did finally get outside, city noise slammed into her. Sarah couldn't stop hyperventilating. Sweat cooled at the base of her spine while her heart pounded.

She flagged a cab and climbed in. The phone stayed in her grip. The city moved past the window in a blur.

Sarah thought about calling again, but decided against it. She needed a minute. She couldn't keep the thoughts at bay once she was alone.

Monstrous, evil thoughts.

After all, she had been the one to reject him.

What right did she have to think this way of a happily married man?

See that was the problem though. When Sarah was with Derek and her mom, they seemed like a match made in heaven. Newlyweds still in the honeymoon phase.

But if that was true, what the fuck was he doing spending nights at the office?

It was more than that though.

There were these moments at work… how should she put it?

Derek had never hidden his attraction to her. The day they met during her interview, he called it love at first sight.

She had shut him down hard then and there, and told him his reputation preceded him. That he was a rake old enough to be her father.

Derek threw his head back and laughed at her word choices, but resumed the interview without further attempts at making a pass at her.

Until she started working for him, that is.

Subtle ‘accidental’ hand brushes. Intense eye locks between them from her desk into his office. A quiet flirtation ensued. And never stopped. Even after he married her mom.

Sarah’s palm pressed flat against her thigh. The dual rush of fear of losing her mom and the forbidden pull towards her step father would not quiet.

She hated her reaction to the accident, but her mind wouldn't stop going there.

What if… she had made a mistake the day they met?

What if… they could have another chance?

How, Sarah? Because your fucking mom died?

Jesus.

The cab came to a screeching halt in front of the hospital, startling Sarah out of her brooding.

“Thank you,” she said, hurriedly paying the cab fee and rushing to unbuckle her seatbelt to go and be at her mom's side.

She checked her phone and found Derek had texted her a room and floor number.

Diligent, as always.

“Please be okay. Mom, please,” she cried hysterically, smearing make up all over her face as she sprinted into the hospital with a heavy heart, snuffing out the disappointment at not having a reason to call again.

Her heels hit the polished floor of the lobby. The air smelled of antiseptic and something metallic underneath.

Sweat had dried in a thin line down her spine. She tried to zero in on keeping her priorities straight, but the awareness of being about to see him had not left her body.

What kind of person wanted her mom to die so she could get laid?

Yes, get fucking laid.

What else could someone like Derek Hale really offer someone like her?