Page 34 of Natasha
Chapter 7
It was the end of the day, and Natasha was packing up when her phone chirped with a text notification. Her heart skipped a beat in anticipation of who could be messaging her.
May I have the pleasure of paying you a visit tonight?
She grinned, seeing Silas' text message, and wasted no time sending back her reply.
But of course, Sir.
Natasha was still holding her phone when Silas' reply buzzed through.
Sir?
Her cheeks warmed at that simple text. She knew Silas was teasing her, but her heart began to pound thinking of the name he wanted her to use.
Daddy, she amended quickly, and after sending the text, Natasha shoved her phone into her bag, unable to stop the blush or the huge smile that caused several students and their parents to stop and gaze at her curiously. She needed to get home, and as soon as her feet could get her there. Her phone buzzed on the short walk to her row house, but she resisted looking at it until she was safely behind closed doors.
That's more like it, my sweet girl. I'll be by in half an hour, with dinner.
Shrugging off her coat and hanging it with her duffle bag by the entrance, Natasha dashed upstairs to take a quick shower. She'd taught back-to-back classes that day, and she didn't think Silas would much appreciate his little girl smelling like sweat. Natasha grinned at the thought. It was fun to be a little, she realized. Living as Natasha Ochenko, failed ballerina, took strength and mental fortitude, but being Silas' little girl was the most effortless thing she had ever experienced. Once she was able to let go, that is.
Calling Silas "Daddy" proved to be an intensely intimate act. She had never been one to be vulnerable, and slipping into her new role as his "little girl" was challenging her more than she had realized it would, as it was so far beyond the boundaries of her comfort zone. Her fear of exposing herself to him in ways she had never done before with anyone was nerve wracking, but at the same time, it was liberating, being open to him. It was freeing to let her walls down, to expect someone else to make the decisions, if even for a little while, and she had never felt more feminine than when she allowed Silas to assume control.
All in all, it was a heady experience.
Natasha had just finished slipping into a pair of yoga pants and a loose, comfy sweater when a knock sounded at her door. Hurrying down the stairs, she threw open the door to a surprised Silas, holding flowers and a takeout bag in his hand.
"That was fast." He laughed and stepped inside.
Natasha shrugged, but she ducked her head and shut the door quickly. "I like to be prompt."
"Mmm." Silas grinned at her and held out the flowers, a bouquet of sunny yellow roses and white tulips. "Saw these and thought of you."
"Thank you," Natasha murmured, taking the flowers. She paused and then leaned up to press a kiss against his jaw. "I love them, Daddy." The words came out shyly and in a rush, but they still made Silas let out a contented sigh. "I love hearing you call me that."
"Then I'll have to remember to use it more."
"Spoilin' me, princess." Silas winked and followed her into the kitchen, where she set about finding a vase for the bouquet. She glanced over her shoulder to where he'd taken a seat to watch her. The takeout was sitting in front of him, and she sniffed at the air while arranging the flowers.
"What did you bring?" She set the vase of flowers between them on the table with a curious look at the bag.
"A little bit of everything from my favorite Indian restaurant," he said, already unloading the bag's contents, and before long, the table was laden with containers. Natasha busied herself with getting plates and silverware, and soon, they were digging into a feast in companionable silence. After a few minutes of eating, Silas turned to look at her. "How was your day?"
The utter normalcy of his question made Natasha freeze, her fork halfway to her mouth. Before her flight from the spotlight, her romantic life had been full of dramatic trysts, meet-ups with powerful men, dressing room romps with fellow dancers, but in all that time, none of them had ever bothered to ask her such an utterly mundane question.
Natasha was delighted.
"It was good," she said. Her words came out in a rush of excitement, but Natasha decided that she didn't mind how eager she sounded. She was glad to let Silas know she was happy to tell him about her day, glad to let him know how much his simple question meant to her.
"Much better now that you're here." She dipped her chin, unable to hide the smile that was so big it was hurting her cheeks. "What about yours?"
"It was…" Silas leaned forward with a sigh, bracing his elbows on the table. "…interesting."
Natasha looked up from her dinner at that. "Interesting?"
Silas nodded and rubbed his eyes. "Things at the fight, the one I took you to, have made things delicate."
She frowned at Silas' word choice. "What do you mean by delicate?" Natasha asked, working to keep her voice even. She didn't like how he kept answering her questions with carefully worded responses. She wasn't getting a good feeling in her stomach about the reason Silas would run a filter over his response to her questions.
