Page 39 of Daddy Devious

But she jerks backward, away from my hand, her eyes narrowing. “I didn’t ask why. I asked how. The things you know… it’s almost like you’ve been having me followed. Or you bugged my apartment or something.”

Now I do hold back the truth, at least a bit. Because I did, indeed, do both of those things and I can already tell it’s only going to distress her to know it. “You’d be surprised how much you can learn from social media,” I say instead, dismissing the question with a shrug. “People don’t realize how much information they actually put out there. Like that time you went to Atlantic City with your friends and posted pictures of you all gorging yourselves on ice cream. Your hashtags were filled with phrases like ‘butter pecan for life’ and ‘long live butter pecan’.”

“Oh.” Brows drawing together, she seems to think it over and I swear I can see the wheels turning in her mind. “But… there’s other stuff I swear I never talked about online. Or at work. Like, the unicorns!” Her tone turns triumphant. “I’ve never said a word about unicorns online!”

“You posted that gif from that cartoon. The one with the little girl holding up the stuffed unicorn. And you said something like ‘This is so me!’. There are other examples, but trust me, little thief. You aren’t the enigma you think you are.”

“It’s justweird. You seem to know things nobody else knows about me.”

Gripping her chin gently, I tilt her head back, so she’s forced to look up at me. “Perhaps those people just didn’t bother to look closely enough. I did. And I see you, little thief. I see all of you, the good and the naughty. And I wantallof you.”

That much, at least, is the truth.

Her eyes widen, her lips parting slightly as her breath catches in her throat. “Oh.”

“Mmhmm. Now, I think we have time for a movie before dinner, but only if you’re a good girl and stop fussing.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Whether she believes me or not, my answers seem to mollify her for the time being and she stops pressing me about how I’ve come by the information I have on her. We watch a movie, as promised, and when she begs to be allowed a second while we eat dinner, I relent.

Perhaps I am spoiling her, at least a smidge. But if it means she will still be mine when her contract ends, I can convince myself it’s worth indulging her a bit.

For now.

Chapter Fifteen

Tori

My second full day on the island is far different from my first. We spend the day inside, me in my playpen, coloring and playing with toys obviously geared for a toddler that somehow still manage to be entertaining, while Daddy works.

It should be boring, but instead the scene is soothing. As though I can simply let go of all the worries of the outside world. Rent? What’s that? Groceries? Bills?

Those are all Daddy’s job for the next month. My only job is to play the part of his Little girl. Which, as long as I don’t have to go back to Doctor D or the spa, shouldn’t be all that bad.

I do feel a prick of guilt as I wonder what my friends back home are doing. Daddy said he had someone email on my behalf after I fell asleep on the plane, but I can’t help but wonder if they bought it. Have they emailed me back? Are they waiting for a response? Will they be worried about me when I don’t respond?

Because I have a sneaking suspicion that asking to check my email will only end up with me over Daddy’s knee, I try to ignore the guilt and focus on my toys instead.

Unfortunately, my efforts to avoid a spanking prove to be in vain a few hours later when Daddy tells me it’s time for a nap. I refuse, telling him I’m too old for naps, and my defiance earns me a long, hard spanking after which I promptly cry myself to sleep in my playpen.

Apparently, I’m not too old for naps, after all.

I’m awoken later by the sound of Daddy’s voice, telling me it’s time to get up. That he has a special surprise planned for me tonight.

“There’s my pretty girl,” he says when I begrudgingly open my eyes. “Did you have a good nap, little one?”

“Uh-huh.” Rubbing at my tired eyes, I push myself up and look around. “What time is it?”

“Time for sweet little girls to get a bath so they can be nice and clean for our guests. Up you go.”

In that effortless way he has, he scoops me up out of the playpen and carries me up the stairs to my nursery. Sleep clings to me, fogging my mind and making it difficult for me to really process his words. “I already had a bath, Daddy.”

“I know, but tonight is a special occasion.”

There’s a hint of excitement in his tone, and it chases away the dredges of sleep. “What’s tonight?”

In the bathroom, he strips me down and places me on the toilet. After repeating this same ritual multiple times over the past forty-eight hours, it’s almost stopped being embarrassing.

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