What Do You Want?

Were children a gift from god? Hell, he wouldn't know because he didn't have any. Not yet, anyway and definitely not from lack of trying. It wasn't like Dillion had led a celibate life. Surely not. His life had been anything but celibate. He had led a truly elegant life of sex and well, more sex. A time had never passed where he hadn't had someone to, well there had been but he just preferred to not linger on those past times.

There was something about the kid that was just off. She wasn't exactly a kid either, and the devious spark in his eyes made him worrisome. He knew that spark from somewhere, and since he certainly didn't have any kids. Dillion gulped, and took another good luck at her. Those eyes, they were just average brown eyes. Anyone could have them really. He had brown eyes, but it wasn't of great importance. If he remembered right Connor had brown eyes, didn't he? He was pretty sure Connor had brown eyes. God, he was a bad best mate. He'd lost contact with the man for years now. He was a bad
person. He hadn't seen him since his... well, not for a while now.

She could be Westfield's. Tilting his head to the side, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly and he didn't care that he wasn't subtle about measuring her up. No, he wanted to know what she was doing in his office especially when her mother didn't know about it. He had always known Westfield wouldn't turn in his player's card. Not to mention, they had shared a few kisses in high school. Then, they had been awfully close that one day at the house warming party. He snorted, distance his ass. She should have just told him, she had found someone else. Even if that someone else was Westfield. He sure as hell wouldn't have offered his blessing, but maybe he would have moved on. God, he needed a drink. A drink and he needed to call his wife & beg for forgiveness.

Turning over, he lent against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. So, her mother didn't know she was here. Well, she certainly didn't sound English which meant... She had better be on vacation, or else he would take her over his knee. If the little brat had runaway, Dillionwould murder her -- Westfield's brat, or no. "Chew you out, you deserve a good thwack to your arse is more like it." He sighed heavily and rubbed his temples. "I'm too bloody ol' for this." Dillion snorted, and chuckled a bit. " Well done th'ugh -- I wouldn't h've been able to sneak nuffin' by your mum." He said, and lips curved into a bright grin. The kid had spunk, he'd give her that.

"So, whatcha ya come to tell me... ya Mum isn't sick is she?"