Page 11 of Daddy's Pretty Baby

Melissa looked stumped, completely puzzled.

“Well, I’m not a kid,” she explained slowly, “so I figured those clothes must be someone else’s, they belong to the girl who usually lives in that room.”

And I put down my knife and fork then, slowly wiping my lips with the napkin.

“You’re the girl who lives in that room,” I said softly, eyes intense. “You’re the one who belongs there.”

But Melissa just shook her head.

“I mean the girl who usually lives there, not me. I’m just here for three months as your housesitter,” she said forcefully, meeting my gaze.

And I turned back to my food then. Ah ha, a spicy one. These are always the best ones to break in, their submission is so sweet when it comes, their little girl ways such a contrast to big girl habits.

“Melissa,” I said again mildly, once again slicing into my steak. “I’m going to ask again. Did you read your contract?”

And she nodded vehemently.

“Absolutely, Mr. Lancaster,” she said. “Every word.”

This time, I put my fork and knife down once more.

“Then did you read page 82, paragraph 167?”

The girl’s mouth dropped open.

“Well yes, I’m sure I did,” she stammered, “but it was really long, so I don’t remember all of it. Remind me?”

I looked at her, shaking my head.

“Well if you read it, then you know that it’s your responsibility to wear the clothes in that closet while you’re here,” I stated, my voice clipped. “You’re not to wear these so-called rags, I hate looking at them,” I added, averting my eyes like the skirt and sweater were offensive.

The brunette guffawed then, her mouth hanging slightly open.

“Mr. Lancaster,” she said slowly. “I’m sorry, I must have missed that paragraph, there were like a thousand paragraphs in the contract.”

“Two hundred and thirty-two,” I interjected mildly. “I know that contract inside out.”

She merely shook her head, trying again.

“I’m sorry if I missed that part, but like I said, the clothes in that closet are for little girls. It’s all frippery sundresses, things covered with teddy bears and bows. It’s ridiculous! I can’t wear those!”

And this time, I let my anger show.

“You do not decide what you can and cannot do,” I rumbled, expression thunderous. “Go back upstairs right now and put something on. Then we’ll continue our conversation.”

A myriad of emotions crossed the brunette’s face, shock, bewilderment, anger, and finally dawning realization. Because if she wanted to talk to me, if she wanted to earn her keep, then it was best to listen to Daddy, to do his bidding. So scooting her chair back, slowly the female made her way upstairs before coming down after ten minutes, dressed in a new outfit.

And I smiled as she seated herself, like nothing was wrong, that it was merely a normal dinner as always.

“That’s much better,” I rumbled approvingly, eyes trailing over her curves. “I like my girls to be look nice, and you’re suitably dressed for a meal now.”

Because Melly was clothed in a pink empire waist dress with a unicorn stenciled on one side and a trail of flowers embroidered at the hem. A big pink bow in her hair complimented the outfit, complete with ruffly white ankle socks and her own black patent Mary Janes.

“Like I said, beautiful,” I complimented, taking another bite of dinner. “Now eat and we’ll talk.”

Melly sat for a moment, staring at her plate before taking a deep breath and cutting into her steak, hands slightly shaking. I get it. It’s strange wearing little girl clothes when you’re an adult, but kudos to my new recruit. She caught on fast, and knew not to bite the hand that feeds her, I was her meal ticket, her source of income. And after a few chews and an audible gulp, Melly took another deep breath.

“Mr. Lancaster,” she said slowly. “This tastes really good, can you pass the béarnaise sauce please?”

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