Page 38 of Daddy's Little Spy

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“Is everything ready for Wednesday?”

Stopping with her fist poised to rap at the door to the sitting area her new husband had excused himself to a few minutes earlier, Diana leaned in, listening closely. What was happening Wednesday?

“We talked about this, Franks. We can’t afford any screw ups this time. You’re sure we’re clear to accept the delivery?”

Franks. The dirty cop who’d sparked her entire investigation. Holding her breath, Diana strained to hear the rest of the conversation, but Benito had been smart enough to not put Franks on speaker.

“Good. Emilio will send you the instructions later today. We’re counting on you, Detective.”

Too late, she realized that was the end of the conversation. The door opened and she stumbled forward, straight into her husband’s hard chest.

“Eavesdropping, bambolina?” There was a hardness in his tone that told her he wouldn’t be amused by the truth.

“It was an accident. Daddy,” she added belatedly, pouting up at him. Maybe he’d be distracted enough by her use of the title to overlook her transgression.

Silence stretched, scraping her nerves raw until he smiled and tapped a finger on her nose. “Don’t make a habit of it. Did you need me for something, little one?”

“I was looking for you.” That, at least, was the truth. She wasn’t yet comfortable wandering the giant house on her own, and she’d grown tired of waiting for him to finish his conversation. “I’m bored. I want to go out.”

Something like regret flickered across his face. “You know you can’t go out right now. You’re meant to be laid up, sick. And I’m afraid I have some errands to run, so you’ll need to entertain yourself for a bit.”

Two days they’d been married, and he hadn’t left her side for more than a few minutes at a time. As much as her libido enjoyed the attention, it had severely restricted any opportunities for gathering more evidence against the Rinaldis.

Excitement bubbled up inside of her, but she forced herself to deepen her pout. Over the last two days, she’d found herself slipping more and more into that strange headspace between woman and child he so easily put her in, so it wasn’t hard to play the brat when she wanted.

“That’s not fair! I want to go out, too. Please, Daddy?”

“Sorry, little one. Not today.” Though his lips twitched with obvious amusement, he raised an eyebrow in a way that had her bottom clenching in response. “Do you need a reminder of what happens to little girls who can’t behave while Daddy is gone?”

“No, Daddy,” she answered with a heavy sigh.

“Good girl. Emilio and I will be back in a bit. I think Amara is up in her room if you want some company.”

With a quick, hot kiss goodbye, he strode out of the bedroom, leaving her alone for the first time in nearly a week. She dressed quickly in a pair of jeans and a sweater she’d been able to borrow from Amara and crept out the door behind him.

Voices echoed around the cavernous foyer and she plastered herself against a wall, praying she wouldn’t be seen. Benito and Emilio passed right by her, without so much as a glance in her direction. A moment later, the sound of the front door opening and closing allowed her to relax a fraction and continue her trek to Emilio’s office.

Lucky for her, it wasn’t difficult to find. And, even luckier, the door was unlocked.

Unlike Emilio’s computer, unfortunately. That, she reminded herself as she quietly pulled open drawers and searched for a password, would have been too easy.

She’d just about given up searching when she spotted a framed picture of Emilio and Amara. A day at the beach, it looked like, with Amara laughing into the camera and Emilio smiling down at her like she was the sun itself. A tightness wrapped around Diana’s chest as she picked up the picture and studied it, and it took her a moment to recognize the unpleasant pressure as jealousy.

What was it like to have a man look at you like that? With such pure, unabashed adoration? Even if she abandoned her plans and stayed with Benito, played the part of doting, obedient wife for the rest of her life, he would never look at her that way. Their past and their morals would always be between them, keeping them from the kind of intimacy Emilio and Amara so easily shared.

Setting aside the jealousy and grief, she flipped the frame over. Her heartbeat kicked into overdrive when she spotted the yellow corner of a post-it sticking out from the back of the frame. It took all of ten seconds to pop the backing off the frame and enter in the password — what looked to be his and Amara’s initials and a series of numbers — and she was in.

Holy shit.

With a glance at the door to check she hadn’t been discovered, she opened Emilio’s calendar. Wednesday definitely had something marked down for seven that night, but it was in some kind of code she couldn’t decipher. Still, she took a screenshot of it and opened Emilio’s email to send it to herself, just in case.

And that was when inspiration struck. Clicking on the “sent” folder, she did a silent victory dance in her seat when she saw the email to Detective Bartholomew Franks, clear as day. Sure enough, there were the instructions for what looked like a shipment of weapons. It wasn’t everything she needed, but combined with everything else she had, it should at least be enough to put Franks behind bars, even if it wouldn’t necessarily bring down the Rinaldi empire.

Suddenly aware of how much time she’d spent snooping already, she hit the button to forward the email to herself, attaching the screenshot of Emilio’s calendar. She deleted her own email from the sent folder and closed down his email before locking the computer.

Doing her best to leave everything as she’d found it, she slipped back out of the office and crept back toward Benito’s suite. But the sight of the sweeping staircase up to the next floor caught her attention and she paused.

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