Page 90 of Daddy P.I. 3.0

I don’t argue with him. If I ever needed Theo as an ally, it’s right now.

“Emmett and Drew at the club. Annabelle knew the names of two of their guests as well, Jared and Hans.”

“Shit.” Theo chews on his lower lip. “Not the first time I’ve heard those names. Chess mentioned something about Emmett and a guest named Hans scaring Tessa in the sauna. Chess had a talk with Emmett about it.”

“It’s gone way beyond a word between friends and brother Doms. Way, way beyond.”

“How far beyond?”

“Emmett made threats. Surely those are actionable.”

Theo grunts. “You know as well as I do that a threat, even of bodily harm, without any more isn’t going anywhere.”

“It gets him out of the club at the very least. Them. All of them.”

Theo nods.

“I’m not trying to shift my shit onto you, Theo but?—”

“Will I raise it with the committee? Yeah, I will. I heard the vote on Mac’s membership was tense.”

I grumble. The first rule of management committee is you do not talk about management committee. But I also know the Blunts grapevine produces more juice than Napa Valley. “It was,” I admit.

“Ten, Karl, Shedo, Franco,” Theo ticks off their names on his fingers. “Who else?”

“Three Cs shafted me when push came to shove.”

Theo’s brows shoot up. “Really? That’s fucking cold.”

“I thought so, too.”

“I’ll call Chess now,” Theo says. He taps a finger against my chest. “You probably called in a few favors to get Mac in. You got enough left to get rid of this Wolfpack?”

“I’d hope I don’t need to call in any favors to protect our house subs.”

Theo nods. “Sure. But maybe you should make some calls, too.”

I do.

twenty-five

EMILY

“Kneel, little girl.”

That’s a command I’m always happy to hear. I don’t expect it in the hallway outside the bathroom but when Daddy says kneel, I kneel.

I tuck my hands behind my back and look up at him expectantly.

“Why have I asked you to kneel, baby?” Daddy asks, looking down at me.

He’s dressed up for the Nursery’s Opening. Looking hot in his Mad Hatter costume from our collaring weekend in Niagara Falls. I should be dressed, too but I’m running a little behind. I glittered my outfit for tonight during the Littles’ Army “art attack” playdate. But then Sammi got the idea that he needed to wear my tutu around his neck and recite Shakespeare—not very accurately—and in the ensuing tug-o-war over my tutu, some of the glitter fell off. I’ve been doing last-minute repairs. Can’t have uneven amounts of glitter. It’s a rule.

“You’re checking in with me because I’m running late?” I suggest.

“Yes, that’s one reason. How much longer until you’re ready?”

I make some fast calculations about the drying speed of glitter. “Ten minutes.”

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