Page 21 of Daddy's Little Mafia Princess
Heading back up to the bedroom, it’s right there at the front of my brain. That partial certainty I’ll open the door to find she’s anywhere but in the shower where I left her.
Not only is she still in the shower, there’s no sign she ever left it. No wet little footprints on the bathroom tile or bedroom carpet to show where she ran in search of a weapon, clothes to wear, or even to test if the windows opened.
They don’t, and by the looks of it she didn’t even try.
She’s exactly where I left her, and apart from her wet hair, I don’t think she’s moved at all.
I make the bed—clean sheets, clean blanket, and a fresh pillow for what would become her side as soon as she resigns herself to the idea. Once I’m sure there aren’t any reminders of what had happened, I return to the bathroom.
Stripping out of my clothes, I step into the shower behind her. She backs away warily, stepping completely out from under the spray, so certain I’m going to hit her.
Easing under the hot spray brings me one step closer to her. I close my eyes, dousing my head under the water, trying to make this normal. I try harder not to think about Alviero and what he’s done to make her this fearful. Turning under the spray, so it hits my back, I run my hands through my wet hair and don’t open my eyes until I have the cold, vengeful knot in my chest under firm control. I don’t want her to see so much as a hint of anything she might mistake as anger when I look at her again.
“Whatever you were afraid was going to happen, let it go,” I finally say. “Anyone who tries to hurt you will have to go through me first, and that won’t happen.”
“You’ll hurt me,” she says dully.
“For sassing and backtalk, not for speaking your mind. For open defiance, not for accidents, you have no control over.”Turning slowly, I face her. “Right here, right now, Princess, I promise I will never punch you, kick you, or slap your face, but I will put you over my knee and spank your bottom if you disobey. I will make you stand naked in the corner, with your hands on the back of your head while you think about what you’ve done wrong. I will pull your hair, but in a way that guarantees to make your pussy wet and ready for me. I will make you come whether or not you want to. I will refuse to allow you to come, no matter how hard you beg or cry. I will sodomize you, both for pleasure and for punishment. I will fuck your pussy until you are raw and your thighs ache so much, you can barely walk. You will suck my cock when I tell you, call me Daddy when I tell you, take your panties off in public if I tell you, give yourself to me in any and every way I desire, no matter how embarrassing or mortifying you find it. And you will do it all, not because you fear what will happen if you don’t, but because I am going to make you want it every bit as much as I do.”
Her chest rises and falls in swift, shallow breaths, and goosebumps pepper her skin. She can blame it on standing outside of the hot water, with only the rising steam to keep away the cold of the outside air, but I know differently. I see the fluttering of her pulse at her throat, and I don’t need her confirmation to know it’s not fear driving that heady beat. What I’m saying sounds good to her. Maybe not all of it. Maybe not even half of it, but the important point I’m making has not eluded her. She doesn’t know if she can trust it, but she wants it—the real promise I’m making, the one that has nothing to do with kink or sex. The one that makes no mistake, I’ll do anything to keep her safe in the way she’s always wanted and never known.
“Give me one year,” I tell her. “If you still want to leave, I won’t stop you after a year.”
The minute I say it, I recognize the lie. Maybe yesterday it would have been true, but in the last hour, I’ve come to know her better than I planned to. After a year, who knows the lengths I’ll willingly go for her, but I sincerely doubt letting her walk out the door will ever be an option.
“One year,” I lie again, moving closer. She watches me, her expression nowhere near shuttered enough for me not to read her mistrust.
“He’ll never give you what you want,” she says. “What will happen to me then?”
“The same thing that will happen tonight, tomorrow night, and the night after that, which is when I expect not only will I have my restaurant, but you will become sole owner of the casino.”
Her scoff of surprise turns into an unhappy laugh.
“He’ll never—”
“Would you like to make a bet?” I hold out my hand to shake hers. She looks at it, then me. “If I’m right, we get married.”
“And if you’re wrong?” she counters.
Amusement tugs the corner of my mouth into a wry smile. “I won’t be. I’ve already plotted it out.”
She doesn’t take my hand, but I can see her considering it… until there’s a knock on the bathroom door.
“Viktor,” Mikhail calls.
To say I’m annoyed at the interruption is a major understatement. Clara is the only reason I bite back what I want to say, replying with a terse yet incredibly restrained, “This had better be good.”
“Alviero is on the phone.”
Clara flattens herself against the shower wall, her eyes wide on her pale face. She clamps her mouth shut, trying hard to shutter her expression, but it’s too late. Even on the phone, her fatherhas the power to terrify her. She flinches when I reach for her, but she doesn’t pull away, even when I take her face in my hands.
“For as long as you are here, I will keep you safe. Got it?”
She nods, but she doesn’t believe me. I have to prove it to her, but that’s fine. I already know how I want to do it.
“Take your time, Princess. Enjoy your shower.” Pushing the glass shower door open, I pause. “Oh, I’d prefer your pretty little kitty shaved bare for me. If you don’t feel like doing it right now, I’ll do it later.” Tossing her a disarming wink, I get out.
Wrapping a clean white towel around my waist, I pad dripping and barefoot to the door. Mikhail, standing just outside, is holding out the cordless house phone.
