Daddy’s Little Pet

ROBERT

“I suggest you lay low for a while, Mr. Clarke,” Mr. Patrick began as the sleek black car raced out of the station and into traffic. “The situation is delicate. Given your reputation, a lot of people are watching you right now. Watching your every move and anything you do.”

I was tempted to tell him to fuck it. And fuck them all. I didn’t care what they said, how they perceived me, or what they did. The media and everyone else could go fuck themselves with their little white lies because my conscience was clear. I did not kill the man. I was being framed. That’s all there was to this.

But instead, I sat silently and listened to my lawyer speak. He droned on and on about the charges against me-like I hadn’t heard all of it before-and everything I needed to do to avoid getting into any further trouble. He discussed his plans, the ongoing investigations, and the legalities involved. I didn’t pay much attention to the latter part. In fact, at some point, I stopped listening entirely, and my thoughts wandered to a faraway place where none of this mattered.

A place where only tranquility existed, and I was with the one person capable of calming my racing heart with a simple touch. The warmth of her hand would caress my skin gently. Her soft words would soothe the hurt in my soul and alleviate my fears.

“You’re not listening,” Mr. Patrick remarked sternly, pulling me back to the present. “Mr. Clarke!”

“What?” I stared up at him blankly. “Sorry, can we pause this conversation until we get to the suite?”

“But you’re going straight to Miss Micheal’s apartment after you-”

“When I get back, we’ll talk about it,” I interrupted, waving him off. My gaze was riveted on the road. “Please.”

After a few awkward moments of silence, Mr. Patrick spoke, “All I want you to know is that we don’t have time to understand everything. If you want the investigative team to prove your innocence without further damaging your reputation, you…” He trailed off, sighing heavily. He must’ve realized I was still not paying attention to him. “I understand this is difficult, sir. But it’s imperative that you cooperate with the investigation. For both our sakes, please.

“I understand. And I appreciate everything you’re doing, Mr. Patrick.” I nodded, letting him know I meant every word. “But please give me some space. I just got off the solitary and need to get myself together. I also need to see Renee, and I guarantee you that when I do, you will have my undivided attention.”

The brief hush that followed my statement was oppressive. I broke it off as I continued. “I told you yesterday, when you came, that we would not slack on this case, and I sincerely mean it. I mean, I’m the one being framed here, and I know how much this issue has cost me. This situation has negatively impacted my company, career, and life so I won’t take it lightly.”

“Okay, Mr. Clarke. And you’re correct. “You do need some rest,” Mr. Patrick said, finally accepting the bait. “But I’ll be waiting in the suite when you depart. When you return, we shall begin.”

“Noted.”

The remainder of the drive was spent in peaceful but comfortable silence, and we soon arrived at my destination-the hotel.

As we approached the valet parking lot, I cursed at the impending bustle outside the building-the paparazzi.

At the same time, Mr. Patrick warned, “Looks like we’ve got company.” He frowned as he observed the crowd of photographers gathered at the hotel’s entrance.

Reporters and journalists gathered around us, pointing their cameras in our direction. No wonder the station had been deserted and quiet because, like the fucking vultures they were, they’d been here laying in wait for hours.

“Someone at the station must’ve tipped them off about your release,” Mr. Patrick murmured, sounding mildly annoyed. “Come on, let’s try to keep a low profile.”

With those last words, he exited the car, and I followed suit, stepping onto the pavement. Camera flashes shot out immediately, nearly blinding me. I braced myself for the attack. Fortunately, three security guards appeared concealing me from the onslaught.

Mr. Patrick turned to me. “Are you okay?”

I gasped, “Yes…yes, I am.”

When he spoke again, his voice grew somewhat louder. “Just be as normal as possible. Don’t speak or make eye contact with anyone. Walk and maintain that stride until we reach the hotel.”

I nodded stiffly, doing as instructed. Mr. Patrick kept a pace ahead.

With the crowd surrounding us and obstructing our view, he grabbed my arm and led me through the swarm of reporters and straight toward the hotel.

The hotel workers greeted me warmly as we passed, but I said nothing in return. I simply nodded and waved my hand in acknowledgment.

We quickly stood before the elevator doors, and Mr. Patrick pressed the buttons impatiently. They opened almost instantly with a chirp, and we entered.

The doors closed, our ascent to the apartment began, and he turned to face me. “Are you willing to go through this whole thing again?”

“What thing?”

“The paparazzi. They won’t leave right away. You could’ve gone directly to Miss Micheal’s apartment from the station.”

“No,” I said, staring at the floor, my voice low. “I don’t want her seeing me in this disheveled state.”

Mr. Patrick expressed amazement, “Oh…” He said nothing else, and neither did I.

We rode the elevator in silence till we reached the suite’s floor. The doors slid open, revealing a corridor devoid of human activity and flickering lights. I ran out and went right to my door, swiping the card my lawyer had given me.

With a click, the door slid open, allowing me to enter the penthouse suite. However, as I walked in, I met a surprise.

Harry, Renee’s bodyguard, sat on the couch eating what appeared to be pasta. I froze. Mr. Patrick did as well.

When he noticed me, he stood up and gave a deep bow. “Welcome, Mr. Clark. I-”

“What are you doing here? How did you get inside? I never gave you an access card, did I?” I asked, brow furrowing as I struggled to recall.

“No, you didn’t. Miss-” Harry began, but a feminine squeak cut him off.

“Robert!”

My head jerked to the side toward that voice. And there she was-my Renee.

Her hair was pulled back in a rough ponytail, and she wore my oversized sweater, shorts, and no slippers. She had a cooking spoon in her hand and just stepped out of the kitchen, but the sight before me utterly took my breath away.

Her eyes twinkled, her lips broadened into a smile that rivaled my stunned one, and she flew across the room, throwing herself into my arms.

“Renee, what are you doing…” I started but was cut short when she began sobbing into my chest.

“Oh, Robert.” Her voice was barely audible, muffled by my clothing. “Welcome home. Welcome,” she said, her arms tightening around my waist.

I returned the embrace, clutching tight. “Thanks, my girl. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” She drew back and inspected me closely, tears streaming down her face. “I…I was so worried, and I kept looking at the clock, counting each minute till you arrived.”

A smile tugged on the edges of my lips. “It’s fine now, baby. I’m back. I’m home and here with you.” I drew her close again, kissing her cheek. I gave her a long kiss on the forehead, but it wasn’t enough. Renee reached out to cup my jaw and draw my face to hers.

Her lips met mine, and as usual, I didn’t hesitate. Our tongues clashed instantly, sending electric shocks through me, kindling something deep within.

She whimpered against my lips before gently drawing away. She wasn’t done, though. She continued kissing my cheeks, forehead, nose, and neck. Everywhere and anywhere, she could reach.

“God, Renee…you’re making breathing hard for me,” I joked, and she chuckled despite the tears in her eyes.

“Sorry. It’s just…” She sniffled. “I missed you, Robert, more than you know.”

I slid my hands over her shoulders, rubbing gently.

“You do not need to explain anything, baby. I understand,” I said, kissing her forehead. “Why are you here, though?”

I couldn’t help asking. I wasn’t expecting to see her here.

She shrugged. “After I left the station, I told Harry to drive me straight here.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” A sad smile played on her lips. “I guess I just wanted to be close to you in any way I could.”

“Oh, Renee,” I whispered, burying my head in the hollow between her shoulder and neck.

I remained there for a long time, savoring every second and simply holding her in my arms, satisfied to stay this way until something or someone pushed us apart.

The two men in the room, Mr. Patrick and Harry, coughed uneasily and averted their gazes. My lips tightened into a frown.

Renee’s skin flushed scarlet with embarrassment, and she hastily released me. She turned to face my attorney. “Hello, Mr. Patrick.”

“Hello to you, too, Miss Micheal,” He said warmly, smiling slightly. Offering a half-hearted apology to Renee, he spoke again. “I’m surprised to see you here, yet it is a warm welcome. Perfect because you’ve just rescued Mr. Clarke from dealing with the press again.”

“The press?” Renee inquired, and Mr. Patrick nodded.

“Yes, the press,” He repeated. “There was quite a scene downstairs when we arrived and given that he’d only returned to the suite to change before heading to your apartment, we were wondering how he’d handle it again. However, with you present, you’ve prevented him from being caught in that situation. So, thank you.”

Renee was startled following his explanation and turned to me. “You were going to go to my place?”

I nodded slowly.

“But…why…?”

“Is this really a question?” I asked, lifting a puzzled brow. “I wanted to see my baby. That’s all.”

A light blush blossomed on her cheeks, and the corners of her lips curved upwards.

“Hm…” She kissed my lips again before turning to Mr. Patrick. “Thank you for caring for Robert and bringing him home safely.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am.”

“Now, if you’ll both excuse us…” She looked at Harry and then back to Mr. Patrick. “Mr. Clarke needs a warm shower, clean clothes, good food, and some loving,” She said with a wink. Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed my arm and directed me away. “C’mon, babe. I need to take care of you. You look and smell like trash!”

“Hey!” I exclaimed, looking behind us at Mr. Patrick, who was trying hard not to laugh.” His attempts failed, so he gave a false salute.

“Good luck, Mr. Clarke,” He said, and the sound of his laughter was the last thing I heard before Renee shut the bedroom door.

~~

A few hours later, I felt much better. Clean, fed, and clothed appropriately. Most importantly, I was happy.

I was with my girl. I was home. And in the minutes, that’d passed, it seemed to be the only thing that mattered. But it wasn’t. Not exactly.

There were other crucial issues, such as the investigation and the press. I still needed to discover the jerk who was out to ruin my life with this murder case. And I needed to find out why. Why did they do this? Was it a psychotic vendetta against me? Was there something else going on? Something beyond the situation? Something I couldn’t understand? Something more sinister?

All these thoughts and more raced through my mind as I entered the suite’s living room, wine glass in one hand and Renee’s in the other.

Mr. Patrick was back, and he sat on a sofa, arms crossed. Harry also sat comfortably on an adjacent couch.

There was a pile of paperwork in front of them-presumably investigation-related documents.

“Ah, there you are!” Mr. Patrick exclaimed as I approached. He gave Renee a warm smile before returning his attention to me: “You should recheck these documents,” He said, pointing to the pile in front of him.

“Of course,” I muttered, sitting next to him and drawing Renee to my side as we began reading through the stack of papers.

We spent about thirty minutes thoroughly reviewing each file and the statements presented. But we finished quickly, and I found myself blankly staring at the documents in my hands.

I frowned, completely bewildered. None of the reports made sense to me. They contained nothing substantial, but everything added to one massive picture that was never supposed to exist. The death of Darren-the man I had beaten to a pulp in the club.

But how? It was nearly laughable. Despite the lack of clarity, I noticed Mr. Patrick’s unusual silence. His eyes were fixed on his tablet, and his finger was continually hovering over the screen, tapping furiously, appearing captivated. I cleared my throat slightly, and he looked up at me.

“There isn’t much to cover here. Mr. Patrick. And these questions you wrote down…” I waved a sheet of paper at him. “They’re useless. These witnesses aren’t credible, and no evidence links their statements to the crime. If we go to court, I won’t come out innocent. So, what’s the point? What’s this even supposed to mean?”

He shook his head gently. “Isn’t that the million-dollar question?”

“Huh?” I frowned again.”By the way, where is the club footage from that night? Why isn’t it…?”

Renee abruptly cut me off mid-sentence. Her attention was fixed on her phone. “Robert, Nicole is here.”

“Here? For what?” I asked but received no answer. She was already on her feet, running to the suite’s entrance.

“Ma’am, should I come with you?” Harry inquired, rising to his feet.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

“No, thank you. I’ll handle this myself.” Her voice was brusque, and despite her expressionless demeanor, I knew something was wrong. Whatever she saw on her phone must have bothered her deeply.

I followed her movement, watching as she swiped the card through the reader, opening the door.

Nicole stood in the suite’s doorway.

She seemed frightened and uneasy. As if something was scaring her to death. She stood still, wide-eyed and shaking, her palm fisted in a material resembling a black plastic bag.

“Nicole. What’s the matter?” Renee started, but Nicole interrupted her, her voice quivering slightly.

“Renee…” Her gaze immediately went from her friend to me, and the look she gave as our gazes linked made me grimace. “There’s trouble.”

She took a step closer, her motions frantic, terror engraved into every line on her face. Then she removed something from the bag she’d brought, dropping it to the floor. “This was left outside our apartment. And whoever dropped it has a message for you.”

A black box. A huge one. With a cover that felt so hefty, it couldn’t hold what was inside. My pulse started hammering as Renee’s look shifted into one I didn’t recognize. She reached down to collect the box, but before she could open it, Mr. Patrick stopped her.

“You shouldn’t touch it!” He said sharply. “The contents might be hazardous. We don’t know what’s inside.” He paused, looking at Nicole. “Or do you?”

She shook her head. “I…I don’t. I didn’t open it. But…” She reached into her jacket and brought out a small note. “This was on the box.”

She gave it to Mr. Patrick. His expression transformed to disbelief and fear as he examined the paper.

“What’s that?” Renee and I asked in union.

“It’s…it’s a letter. From an anonymous sender…” He swallowed hard. “To Miss Micheal.”