Making This Daddy My Forever

Chapter 1

Carter

I adjust my tie for the hundredth time, staring at my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows of my corner office. The city sprawls below, a concrete jungle where only the fittest survive. And today, I need to be at my absolute best.

My fingers brush against the sleek presentation folder on my desk—the Peterson deal. The numbers dance in my head: projected revenues, market penetration, ROI forecasts. Everything has to be perfect.

"The blue Armani was the right choice." Zuri's voice cuts through my thoughts as she enters, a stack of papers balanced in one arm. She's wearing a blue dress that compliments her voluptuous frame nicely. The blue color makes her dark complexion even more radiant. "Though I had the Tom Ford on standby, just in case."

"You know me too well." I turn from the window, catching sight of the silver frame on my desk. Mia's gap-toothed smile beams back at me, her first-grade photo capturing that pure joy only a six-year-old can radiate.

"The board's assembling in ten minutes." Zuri sets down a fresh coffee—black, two sugars—exactly how I need it. "And I've already checked the presentation room. Everything's set up."

"What would I do without you?"

"Probably wear mismatched socks and show up to meetings on the wrong day." Her laugh fills the room, easing some of the tension in my shoulders.

My eyes drift back to Mia's photo. This deal isn't just about expanding Reynolds Enterprises. It's about securing her future, building something lasting she can be proud of.

"Mr. Peterson's assistant called," Zuri says, tapping away at her tablet. She brushes her wavy hair over her shoulder. "They're running two minutes late. Traffic on Fifth, but that shouldn’t slow you down."

I nod, straightening my jacket. The fabric whispers against my skin, another reminder of Zuri's impeccable taste. In the six years she's been my assistant, she's never once missed a detail—from coordinating my wardrobe to managing my impossible schedule.

"Right." I gather my materials, my mind already shifting into deal-maker mode. "Let's go make some fucking money."

Zuri accompanies me to the boardroom and gives me a small whisper of good luck as I make my way in. Once I step into the room, everyone goes quiet. All eyes are on me.

"Hello, everyone," I greet, taking my spot at the front of the oval table. "Are we all here? If not, I'm beginning anyway. We have no time to waste."

The boardroom fills with murmurs as I lay out our expansion strategy. Charts and projections flash across the screen behind me, but Oswald Peterson's expression remains unreadable. His fingers drum against the polished mahogany table, his blue eyes narrowing every now and then.

My phone vibrates in my pocket—probably another message from Mia's school about the upcoming event. The third one this week.

"The numbers are impressive, Reynolds." Peterson leans back in his chair. "But what drives you? What's the heart behind Reynolds Enterprises?"

The question catches me off guard. Through the glass walls, I spot Zuri at her desk, phone pressed to her ear. She's probably arranging Mia's dentist appointment or coordinating with her dance instructor—all the little details of my daughter's life that I should know but don't.

"I built this company from the ground up." The words feel hollow, rehearsed. "Our market share has doubled in the past—"

"We've seen the figures." Peterson waves his hand. "I'm talking about legacy. Family values. What are you building this for?"

I pause, my usual confidence wavering. Peterson's words hit deeper than I care to admit. Through the glass, I catch another glimpse of Zuri fielding calls, and my throat tightens. She's handling my life while I'm in here talking numbers.

"Well, I'm focusing on the good of the company, of course. The figures speak for themselves," I continue, but I can see the uncertainty crossing the expressions of the investors encapsulating the table.

A whisper from the far end of the table catches my attention. "Family values matter more than ever in today's market," one investor mutters to another. "Look at Martinez Corp's success with their family-first approach."

My fingers clench around the presentation remote. Sweat pricks at my collar. They're right—I'm pushing stats and projections when I should be selling them on something deeper. But what the fuck do I know about family values? I spend more time in this office than I do with my own daughter.

"If we look at slide fifteen—" I click forward, but the numbers blur before my eyes. More whispers ripple through the room.

"But what about his angle? The public's perception?" Another hushed conversation reaches my ears. "Single father, I heard. Always working."

The truth stings. Here I am, trying to convince them I can lead this merger when I can't even manage to attend one of Mia's dance recitals. Peterson's steady gaze bores into me, waiting for something more substantial than profit margins.

"Let's move onto the integration timeline, shall we?" I begin, but Peterson cuts me off with a raised hand.

"Mr. Reynolds, perhaps we should take a break and regroup later. Give everyone a chance to refresh their coffee."

My jaw clenches. This isn't going how I planned. Not even close. The room feels suffocating, and for the first time in years, I'm not the most confident person at the table.

Through the glass, Zuri catches my eye. She must sense something's wrong because her brow furrows with concern. She's been more of a parent to Mia these past few years than I have, and suddenly that reality hits me like a punch to the gut.

I storm back towards my office after leaving the boardroom, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the glass. The presentation folder hits my desk with a thwack. Fuck. The whole meeting went sideways the moment Peterson started talking about family values.

My fingers rake through my hair, messing up the careful styling. I drop into my chair and pull out my phone, scrolling through my gallery until I find the video from last spring.

Mia's face fills the screen, her curls bouncing as she performs "Hey Diddle Diddle" complete with dramatic hand gestures. She'd spent weeks practicing it for her kindergarten showcase—a showcase I missed because of a conference call in Tokyo.

"Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle..." Her voice rings clear through the phone's speaker. She stumbles on a few words, giggles, then continues with even more enthusiasm. The way her eyes light up when she nails the ending…

A soft knock interrupts the video. Zuri stands in the doorway, concern etched across her features. Those damn perceptive eyes of hers catch everything. "Carter? Everything okay?"

"Fine." I click the phone off, shoving it in my pocket with more force than necessary. "Just peachy fucking keen." My jaw clenches, the muscle twitching with tension.

She steps inside, her heels clicking against the hardwood. The familiar scent of her jasmine perfume trails behind her. "The meeting didn't go as planned?"

"I said I'm fine." The words come out sharper than intended, like daggers I can't pull back. Shit. She doesn't deserve that. Not with everything she does for Mia and I.

Zuri's lips press together, and she studies me with those knowing hazel eyes. She doesn't believe me—she never does when I put up walls. But instead of pushing, she gives a slight nod. Her composure only makes me feel like more of an ass.

"I'll be at my desk if you need anything." She turns to leave, pausing at the door. For a moment, it looks like she might say something else, but she just shakes her head and walks out. The click of her heels fades down the hallway, leaving me alone with my guilt and the echo of my daughter's laughter still playing in my head.

The moment she's gone, I pull the phone back out. Mia's face appears again, innocent and joyful, completely unaware that her father's building an empire at the cost of missing her childhood.

"The little dog laughed to see such sport..." Her voice fills the empty office, but it doesn't chase away the hollow feeling in my chest.

I toss my phone onto the desk, Mia's voice fading into silence. The city stretches endlessly through my window—skyscrapers reaching toward clouds, each one a testament to ambition and drive. My empire. But what good is an empire without an heir who knows her father?

My fingers drum against the mahogany desk. The Peterson deal would secure Reynolds Enterprises as the dominant force in the market. Years of strategic planning, countless sleepless nights, and ruthless negotiations have led to this moment. And I'm fucking it up because I can't convince them I understand family values.

The calendar notification on my computer screen blinks: "Mia - Dance Recital - Thursday 6PM." Three days from now. I've already rescheduled twice for business meetings. The thought of disappointing her again twists my gut.

"What's the point of all this?" I mutter, gesturing at the skyline. The view that used to fill me with pride now feels hollow. Empty. Like the chair at Mia's dinner table when I work late.

The Peterson deal could set her up for life. Financial security, opportunities, a legacy. But what about the memories? The bedtime stories I'm too tired to read? The school plays I watch through Zuri's video recordings?

Sighing, I lean back in my chair. I don't know how to fix this. The only thing I know well is to dive deeper into my work, using the numbers and the meetings to take my mind off of everything else.

But that's not fucking working anymore. And it's not going to help me secure the deal with Oswald Peterson, who is staring through my façade as if I'm a piece of looking glass.