Page 84 of Use Me, Daddy

Completely naked.

She glanced over her shoulder and caught me watching her, which only made her grin even wider. I playfully narrowed my gaze in her direction, and she squealed, dashing around the corner until she was out of sight.

The little brat.

She’d be over my knee again before she knew it.

And I knew without a doubt that we would both enjoy it.

The gallery was quiet when we arrived. Amy walked beside me, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor, her gaze flicking over the room as if she were cataloging every tiny detail.

I didn’t blame her for being on edge. Meetings like this always carried an undercurrent of danger. But I had planned for that. My men were stationed discreetly throughout the gallery, their presence invisible but ever watchful.

As we approached the private viewing room, I placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her forward.

“Remember,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Let me lead. Follow my cues.”

She nodded, her chin lifting slightly in that defiant way I’d come to adore. “I’ll be fine, Aleksei.”

That’s what I’m worried about, I thought, but I kept the words to myself.

Leonardo Santini was already waiting when we entered. He stood near one of the displays, his dark suit impeccable, his posture relaxed, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He turned at our approach, a charming smile spreading across his face.

“Aleksei Morozov,” he greeted, his Italian accent smooth and deliberate. “And you must be Amy.”

Amy glanced at me briefly before offering a polite nod. “Mr. Santini,” she said, her voice steady.

“Please, call me Leo,” he said, his smile widening as he extended a hand.

I stepped forward, taking his hand before Amy could, my grip firm. “Let’s get to it, Santini,” I said, my tone curt. “We both know this isn’t a social call.”

The smile didn’t falter, but I saw the flicker of something darker in his eyes. “Straight to business, then. I can respect that.”

We moved to the table, where a selection of curated pieces had been arranged for his consideration. Amy stood slightly behind me, her presence a quiet but steady anchor.

Santini leaned over one of the paintings, his fingers brushing lightly along the frame.

“Impressive,” he said, his tone casual. “You’ve got quite the collection, Morozov. But then, I suppose that’s to be expected.”

“Flattery won’t get you a discount,” I said dryly, watching him carefully.

He chuckled, his gaze flicking to me. “I wouldn’t dream of asking.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re really after, Santini?” I said, leaning back in my chair. “You didn’t come here just to admire the art.”

He hesitated, just for a moment, before his smile returned. “You’re right,” he admitted. “I’m looking for something specific. Something… more rare.”

“That’s vague,” I said, my voice hardening.

Santini shrugged, his smile turning sharp. “It’s how I do business.”

I was about to respond when the sound of footsteps rang out from the other room. The door to the viewing room opened, and two men entered.

They weren’t my men.

I stood immediately, my hand moving to Amy’s arm, pulling her behind me.

“What is this?” I demanded.

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