Page 15 of Daddy's Little Spy

6

Excitement hummed through his veins when her delicate features scrunched up into a scowl. She would break, but not easily. It was a challenge he was looking forward to.

Her gaze flicked towards the kitchen doors, then back to him, her small pink tongue darting out to wet her lips.

Slowly, as if she were fighting herself with each movement, she drew her hands away from the table and tucked them under her legs.

“Good girl,” he praised quietly, reaching for the cup of cappuccino in front of her and pulling it towards himself. Watching her, he lifted the cup and took a sip of the steamy, frothy concoction. “Teresa makes an excellent cup of coffee. I’m going to ask you a question and you are allowed to answer. How many cups of coffee did you have after I dropped you off this morning?”

For a cop, her eyes gave so much away. He could see the wheels turning in her mind as she no doubt debated the wisdom of lying to him.

“Four.” Her chin jutted out, an obvious challenge.

“Four. Including the cappuccino you ordered when you arrived?”

“No.”

“Five, then. Five separate instances of defiance. Five different times when you could have made the choice to be a good girl, but you chose disobedience.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. Watching her was a study in contradictions. The strong, independent cop who wanted to lash out, to fight. The woman she tried to pretend she wasn’t, who so desperately wanted to be touched, to be loved, whether she was willing to admit it or not. And the mischievous, naughty little girl who needed a Daddy to guide her and care for her.

“Normally, I would punish each instance of disobedience separately.” Another pause as he watched her eyes widen and panic fill the dark brown. “But since this is your first time, I am inclined to extend a certain amount of grace. Say ‘Thank you, Daddy’.”

“Thank you… Daddy.”

It was all he could do to keep from dragging her to the floor and fucking that sexy mouth of hers. Luca was an understanding sort but even he wouldn’t take kindly to such a scene playing out in his very respectable restaurant.

“Good girl.” Again, her eyes lit at the praise, confirming his read of her. Lifting a hand, he signaled for their server, who came running immediately. “We’ll start with an order of the house-made ricotta with the crostini. Then the salmon for me and the spaghetti with meatballs for my guest.”

Diana’s eyes narrowed, but he ignored her as he perused the wine list, selecting a glass of Chardonnay that would pair well with his salmon. “And two glasses of water.”

When the server scurried off, he refocused his attention on his date for the evening. The glare had turned mutinous, dangerously on the verge of a full on pout. She looked every bit the little girl who’d just been denied a treat she’d been looking forward to.

Which was, of course, the exact headspace he wanted her in. Even the meal he’d ordered was designed to draw out the little girl inside of her.

He waited, letting the silence drag out as he watched her expression turn even more mullish, until he was certain she was about to break. “You may speak now, but keep your hands where they are.”

“I thought you said I could have a glass of wine.” Her voice was sulky, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

“And you chose cappuccino instead.” Eyes locked on hers, he took another sip of the forbidden drink before pushing it aside. Another server swooped in almost instantly and whisked the cup away. Diana’s longing gaze followed the cup through the kitchen doors before returning to him.

“Asshole,” she muttered, her eyes shifting to the side as she slumped back against the cushioned bench.

“For future reference, swearing at me will get your mouth washed out with soap. As will calling me unflattering names.” It was tempting to drag her back to the employee bathroom and do exactly that, but he wasn’t unreasonable. She didn’t know all of the rules yet, so it was unfair to punish her for breaking them.

“If you weren’t acting like an asshole, I wouldn’t have to call you an asshole,” she shot back.

God, he loved a brat. Breaking them, contrary to the beliefs held by some, was an art form. You couldn’t simply beat a brat into submission. All that would win you was a lifeless little doll, which wasn’t at all what Benny wanted. He wanted the constant challenge, the fight, the push and pull. The trick was to break her just enough for her to learn which lines could be crossed and which couldn’t. She already craved his approval, whether she realized it or not — as most brats secretly did.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted the red of Teresa’s dress as she approached the table. Face flushed, red-rimmed eyes bright, and a few strands of hair falling out of her ponytail, she looked the very picture of a well-punished, well-fucked woman.

“Can I get you two anything? I saw you ordered the ricotta, it’s to die for. I swear Emmy eats a gallon of it whenever he’s here.”

He couldn’t help but grin at Teresa’s nickname for Emilio. His poor cousin hated the name, which was, of course, why it had stuck. “I think we’re all set for right now, Teresa. You have other guests and Luca doesn’t seem to be in a particularly forgiving mood tonight.”

The pink on her face darkened at the blatant reminder of what had transpired in her husband’s office. “Yes, sir. Just let me know if there’s anything I can get for you.”

“That was rude!” Diana whispered loudly at him. “She was just being nice!”

---