Page 34 of Maddox

Clare hesitated for just a moment before opening her mouth. As she took her first bite, a small smile spread across her face.

"Good?" I asked, unable to keep the affection out of my voice. I chose another piece for her.

She nodded, taking another bite. "Very good. Thank you, Da—" she cut herself off, blushing furiously.

"It's okay," I said gently. “You can call me anything you like.” But I knew she wanted to call me Daddy.

Clare nodded, taking another bite of pancake. I fed myself some while she was chewing. She ate in silence for a few minutes, and I could see her relaxing bit by bit.

"So," I said after she'd finished eating, and was cradling her hot tea, "what would you like to do today, princess? We could color or watch a movie in the playroom, or if you're feeling up to it, we could go to the park."

Clare bit her lip, considering. "I’m not sure."

I smiled warmly. " Why don't you go pick out a coloring book or a puzzle from the playroom while I clean up here?" I’d wait and see if she brought it back or lingered, and if so, I’d join her in there.

As Clare headed upstairs, I quickly tidied the kitchen, my mind racing with plans. I wanted to make this day special for her, to show her how wonderful being Little could be. My phone rang just before I could go see what she was doing and, seeing Gideon’s name, I swiped it up.

“Jeremy Blakeny just landed at a private airstrip outside of Orlando.”

I hissed in a breath. “On his own?”

“No sign of anyone but his secretary, and Jonathan Rice is still in Phoenix. Eric can’t find any recent communication between them.”

“Which doesn’t mean they couldn’t have used a third party.”

Gideon grunted his acknowledgement. “Eric’s keeping an eye on them.” He paused. “Should we tell Clare or her brother?”

“Give me today to think on that. She’s here for the moment, but I don’t like the thought of her going home if he’s in the US.”

“Speak to you later,” Gideon said and hung up.

I headed to the playroom, but hearing a soft noise I paused outside and listened. It was Clare. She was humming softly, and as I looked in, I saw she was sitting cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the painting area, two huge pads spread out in front of her, and she had a plain pencil in her hand. I walked into the room, but she was concentrating so hard she might not have been aware of me. I glanced at the paper and sucked in a breath. It was a drawing of a doll, the sort of doll a Little girl might love, but the doll was naked and stood up staring with blank eyes through the bars of a cage.

I froze, my heart clenching at the haunting image Clare was creating. The doll's blank eyes seemed to stare right through me, a chilling reminder of what Clare had endured.

I debated whether to interrupt her or not. She seemed almost in a trance as she worked, her hand moving with surprising skill across the paper. Finally, I decided to make my presence known, clearing my throat softly.

Clare startled, her head snapping up. When she saw me, her cheeks flushed, and she quickly tried to cover the drawing.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't know why I drew that."

I moved closer, sitting down beside her on the floor. "You have nothing to apologize for, princess," I said gently. "Sometimes our minds need to process things in different ways. Drawing can be very therapeutic."

Clare bit her lip, her eyes downcast. "It's disturbing though, isn't it?"

"It's honest," I replied. "And sometimes honesty isn't pretty. But it's always valuable."

I carefully reached out, my hand hovering over the drawing. "May I?"

After a moment's hesitation, Clare nodded, moving her hand away so I could see the full image. The detail was remarkable—the doll's porcelain-like skin, the intricate bars of the cage, even the shadows cast across the floor. It was haunting but undeniably powerful.

"You're very talented," I said softly.

“I sometimes wish I wasn’t,” she said softly, then looked up at me, the moisture in her eyes making them glitter. “Everyone thinks the first time I met him was at the charity auction.” No guesses as to who she meant byhim. “But he came to my college.”

“What?”Why didn’t we know this?

“It was the end of year exhibition of our art. He came with the woman from the charity to choose which pieces they would use for the auction.” She wet her lips. “It wasn’t just our school involved, so they couldn’t take them all. All of mine were chosen, and at the auction he bought every one. Afterwards, I went to thank him. He was friendly and gave me six complimentary tickets for the top tier in his club. It was only after that first time I went back on my own to the club to see him.”

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