Page 142 of Daddy P.I. 3.0

I give him a cheeky salute, trot out of his office and upstairs to get the plug. The jeweled plugs don’t hurt. They’re not a trial to keep in. They’re just a nice reminder of Daddy. I put in the plug, wash my hands, and shoo Sable away from the door of my little room. Some of the older doors in the house have antique handles that Sable can get a grip on with his naughty claws. If he catches them right, he can get the door open. I’ve watched him do it a few times, mostly to Daddy while he’s in the bathroom. I haven’t stopped my kitty those times because the results can be very funny. But I’m not sure how Mr. De Leon will react to having five pounds of cat land on his chest when he’s trying to sleep. Or worse, ten claws embed themselves in his feet.

I click my fingers at Sable, which I hope won’t wake Mr. De Leon but should persuade my kitty to follow me to the kitchen for a treat.

Meowing his head off, like he hasn’t already had breakfast and a treat today plus a bug he found somewhere whose wing heleft me to admire, Sable follows me down the stairs. He sounds like an air-raid siren. Poor Mr. De Leon. I grimace at my cat. I swear he smiles back at me. Maybe he doesn’t like Mr. De Leon invading his space any more than I like Lucy invading mine.

I give Sable a treat to keep him occupied. Lucy’s sitting at the dining table talking with True, Yummy, Sammi, Justine, Hunter, Laurel, and Jiro. While I’m thinking through what to say to Lucy, my phone buzzes with a text. It’s Cynnie saying that she and Max are on the way over now that Theo’s left. I send her back a million thumbs up and buzzy-bees.

I make myself a cup of chamomile tea and sip it, looking out at the blustery, gray day through the French doors. It’s gotten cold since that day we played Doms v subs paint ball at Blunts. There’s a little snow in the corners of the yard where it fell overnight and the watery sun hasn’t melted it yet. There hasn’t been a white Christmas in New York City in a long time. Certainly not while I’ve been an adult. I remember reading that the City had a white Christmas every six years on average, so we’re overdue. But maybe with global warming that’s a thing of the past. It would be nice to have one this year, although we won’t be around to enjoy it for very long since we’re flying to Vegas for the wedding right after what Daddy calls “Boxing Day”: the day after Christmas. We’re going to take in the opulence of the casinos, fly over the Grand Canyon in a helicopter, and go kayaking at this pretty place called Emerald Cave that Daddy said he’s always wanted to see. Niall, Shaan, and Vashi are joining us for the week and everyone else who’s coming to the wedding is filtering in before the ceremony on Sunday.

Like our collaring ceremony, there are a crazy number of people coming to what was an attempt to quietly elope. Daddy can’t do anything quietly. I’ve overheard Master Javier and Mistress Maude plotting in the club’s Library; something aboutElvis. Between them and Master Niall who is coming as Irish Elvis and the penchant of our friends to role-play, I’m a little concerned the wedding might be attended by fifty Elvises of various ages and girths.

But one person I know isn’t coming? The blonde sitting at my dining room table laughing at something True’s said. She’s not coming because I haven’t invited her. Just like I haven’t invited her intoourhouse today.

Time to make sure she knows she’s not welcome.

I put my empty teacup in the sink and walk quietly over to the table. I tap Lucy on the shoulder. When she looks up at me, I smile and ask if I can have a word with her. She looks startled but smiles back at me before she excuses herself.

One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.

I thought that about Miranda. Quite a bit actually and look how she turned out. I don’t think Lucy is a villain. Just unhappy and looking for a way to carve out her own happiness. I understand that but I’m not going to let her carve her happiness out of Daddy.

As we pass through the great room, I nod at her bag which is sitting behind the couch with a dozen other bags. Most of the people who went to the hospital left their bags, so I assume they’re returning tonight. I’m good with that. I like having a lot of friends around in times of crisis.

They just have tobefriends.

“You might want your bag,” I say.

“Oh, okay.” She snags her bag with the straps over her forearm. It’s a small bag. Maybe she didn’t intend to stay a second night. She probably has to work tomorrow. I don’t care. Another hour of having her in my house is too long.

I close the door to the great room behind her when she follows me into the hallway. She looks at me, her brow beetling, when I find her coat on the coat rack.

“Emily, is everything okay?” she asks.

“No, it’s not,” I say. “I’d like you to leave. I’m okay with you coming to the house to do scenes with Daddy but I’m not okay with you being here at other times.”

Lucy blinks her blue eyes rapidly. Is it a blue-eyed, blonde thing that makes me feel particularly threatened? Hmm, probably not. Daddy’s ex Rachel has caramel-brown hair and brown eyes. It’s not even all of Daddy’s former subs, because I get along well with his ex, Luisa.

“Emily, have I done something wrong? Have I offended you?”

It sounds mean in my head to say she has. But Daddy always encourages me to be honest. I try to say it kindly.

“I’m not offended,” I say. “But I’m not okay with you seeking emotional support from Daddy.”

“I-I’m not—” She sputters, then closes her mouth. She looks around, like she’s seeking answers. When her eyes settle on me, they have tears in them. Her cheeks burn crimson. “I’m so sorry, Emily.”

I nod. She’s not a villain. She’s a nice person at heart. Before she asked Daddy to top her, I felt close to her. Maybe when he stops topping her, we can be friends. But she’s carrying a torch for Daddy and those feelings have driven her here, to seek solace from him, in my safe space. And that is not okay.

She holds out her arms. I could refuse her. Shove her coat into her waiting hands and push her out the door. But that’s definitely not being the bigger person. I hug her quickly and give her an extra pat when I release her. She takes her coat and slides her feet into low boots. She lingers by the door and I can tell she wants me to say something to make it better. To excuse her actions and show she’s forgiven.

She’s not and I don’t. I open the door for her and give her a smile as she leaves.

I close the door behind her and lean against it, drawing a deep breath in and letting it out slowly.

I am a fierce, white, baby dragon. Hear me roar.

Even if I roar quietly and with a smile.

Through the open door to Daddy’s office, he calls, “Come here, my little wonder. I want a hug.”

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