Daddy's Little Whore
Daddy’s Little Whore – Part 78

KEIRA’s POV

I walked down the hallway of the building, my steps hastening as I was eager to see Clint. Although I had seen him yesterday, I needed to see him again. I needed the comfort he brought.

Clutching my shoulder bag, I strode up to Clint’s door, thankful that his receptionist was not at her station, and knocked lightly on his door before twisting the door knob. The door creaked open, and my eyes fell on Clint. My face brightened up at the sight of him.

I opened the door further, and I noticed that he was not alone. Before him was a man clothed in a thick black coat. He had his back turned to me as he conversed with Clint.

Clint shifted his gaze away from the man and looked up at me. A smile grew on his face, and he rose up from his chair, beckoning me to step in further.

I stepped into Clint’s office slowly and shut the door behind me as I tried to get a hold of the situation in front of me. Who was this man? Was he one of Clint’s clients?

“Keira, you are here just in time,” he said and walked up to me.

Clint placed a hand behind my back and guided me towards the man. I looked at Clint, an eyebrow raised.

“Who is this?” I asked in a hushed tone.

“This is James Murray. He is a private investigator.”

I went owl-eyed and snapped my head to the man. He turned his head towards me, a courteous smile on his face. He rose up from his chair and placed his hand out for a shake.

“It is so nice to meet you, Miss Temple,” He said

I shook his hand and nodded while taking in his features. James looked like he was in his late thirties. He had downcast brown eyes that made him look like he lacked sleep. He had a moustache and a scruffy beard on his chin.

“I called him over today so that we can talk about the situation,” Clint added and pulled out a chair for me.

I sat down, and so did James. Clint walked back to his leather chair and settled down in it.

“So, James and I were talking, and he agreed to take up the job.”

My eyes brightened up, and James nodded.

“Yes, but I would need to ask you a few questions. I hope that is alright with you, Miss Temple?”

I looked at James and nodded.

“Okay. Mr Homer here has informed me about your stepbrother. What is his name?”

I swallowed a lump before answering, “Calvin Borris. Formerly Temple.”

I watched James take notes. “And why the change in the last name?”

“He had just turned eighteen when Papa found out Calvin was not his biological son. His wife had cheated on him. Papa disowned Calvin since he had only brought the family nothing but troubles and shame.”

“How old were you at the time?”

“I was ten,” I responded.

“And when was the last time you saw him?”

My eyes trailed to Clint’s mahogany desk as I pondered on the question.

“Well, it has been years since I have laid eyes on him,” I said with a sigh.

“Hm,” James scratched his beard. “Do you know where he lives?”

I shook my head. If I did, I would have snuffed his out and have him sent to jail.

“Has he had any other contact with you other than the text?”

“No, although he did contact my father through an email, that is about it.”

James looked to the ceiling, deep in thought. Clint pulled out a brown envelope and slid it in front of James.

“This is basic information on her stepbrother. It was all I could get. This will aid in your investigation, no?”

James grinned and took the envelope. “Of course, this is more than enough.”

He rose up from his chair and turned to me.

“I would advise you to file a report to the police, just to be on the safe side. There is only so much I can do. I will definitely get back to you as soon as possible.”

I nodded. “I will definitely do that, thank you.”

Clint followed him to the door, and they began to converse, but their words did not reach me. I looked down at myself and let out a sigh. Now that a private investigator had been hired, my anxiety had been quelled a bit, but it was not gone completely.

I heard the door click shut, and Clint walked up to me.

“Why don’t we go file the report now?” He questioned and brushed his fingers against my cheeks.

“Of course, the sooner, the better.”

We both exit the office, my mind still filled with anxiety.

°°°°°°°°°°°

“I would like to file a report,” I informed the police officer standing in front of me.

“Alright, I would like to see an ID first.”

I rummage through my bag for my ID card and show it to him. He takes it from me and examines it.

The police officer grunts and hands my card back to me. “You will need to write a statement and provide us with more information.”

I nod eagerly and look at Clint. He shoots me a smile, and to my surprise, he intertwines his fingers in mine. The police officer led us to a spot where he handed me a paper to fill in.

I filled in the statement, adding the email my stepbrother had sent my father and how he had texted me with an unknown number. After spending minutes on the statement, I submitted it to the police officer, and they asked me a few more questions before we were out of the station.

“That was extremely stressful,” I complained as I made myself comfortable in Clint’s car.

Clint leaned over and tucked a strand of hair away from my face.

“How are you feeling now? Still worried?”

I shrugged at his question. “Well, getting the private investigator and filing a report does put my mind at ease, but not completely.”

Clint sighed and slid on his seatbelt. “Well, that is a given. But I promise, it is going to get better,” Clint assured and shot me a smile.

I felt my heart melt at his words. Clint’s kindness was all I needed to feel better. His words had a way of putting my mind at ease, and I loved it. Clint started the car, and he drove down the road. Unlike when I was driving alone, I did not get the feeling that someone was watching me, but I still could not feel relaxed.