Page 17 of Daddy's Little Spy

7

This is a mistake. A huge, gigantic, enormous mistake. The kind of mistake that gets people dead.

Sitting in the back of the town car again, this time with Benito beside her and a kid who barely looked old enough to have his license behind the wheel, Diana silently berated herself the entire drive to his house.

Or, more accurately, Emilio Rinaldi’s house. As Emilio’s right-hand man, it made sense that Benito stayed close, though she hadn’t really expected it to be this close. Would Emilio see through her? Had Benito already figured her out, and this was an elaborate plan to lead her to her death?

The latter seemed unlikely. Surely there were easier ways to get rid of a nosy cop.

Huge. Mistake.

Mistake or not, she was in too deep to change her mind now. And, if she was being completely honest, there was a part of her that didn’t want to change her mind. It was like Benito had tapped into some dark, hidden part of her, exposing desires she hadn’t even realized she had. Was it so wrong to want to explore those desires? Especially if it helped her investigation?

She was still wrestling with the moral implications of what she was about to do when the car rolled to a stop in front of a set of iron gates. After a moment, the gates swung open, and the car began its climb up the steep hill to the Rinaldi estate.

Instead of parking in front of the sweeping stairs at the front as she’d expected, the driver maneuvered the car around the side to an entrance the casual observer would have missed.

The car stopped, and Benito climbed out without waiting for the driver, then held out a hand. Bracing herself, Diana slipped her hand into his and allowed herself to be pulled from the car.

Curiosity got the better of her as they wound their way through the empty kitchen. “Why didn’t we go in through the front?”

Benito glanced over at her with a grin. “If Amara sees you, she’s going to want to talk. I want you all to myself tonight.”

“Oh.” There was an undeniable thrill at being the sole focus of a man like Benito. “That’s… sweet.”

A low, wicked chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. “We’ll see how sweet you think I am by the end of the night.”

Stopping in front of a closed door, he released his hold on her long enough to push the door open before gently nudging her inside the darkened bedroom. A flick of a switch illuminated the room revealing dark, heavy furniture. The pale gray walls held a variety of paintings, which surprised her.

“I didn’t peg you for an art collector,” she commented, crossing the thick, plush carpet to study a particularly stunning landscape. Every color imaginable seemed to fill the sky, lending the entire thing an almost ethereal feel. The textures on the canvas told her it was an original, not a print. “Where did you find this?”

“There’s an artist in New York whose work I enjoy. I was lucky enough to discover her before she ‘hit it big’ so to speak, so she still gives me a decent price if something catches my eye.”

“It’s… stunning doesn’t really even cover it, does it?” Tilting her head to the side, she studied the painting. Something about the swirls of color pulled at her, and she felt a swell of hope almost terrifying in its intensity.

“It doesn’t, no. Come. You can study the artwork later.”

After your punishment.

The unspoken words seemed to hang in the air around them. Was she really going to do this? Let a man — a dangerous criminal, no less — spank her like a naughty child?

Mind racing, she watched as he pulled a straight-backed chair from the desk along the far wall and placed it in the middle of the room. Standing beside the chair, he shrugged off his perfectly tailored sport coat and draped it across the back.

Her mouth went dry when he slipped the button at his wrist free and rolled the starched fabric upward, revealing a tan, sinewy forearm. Who knew a man’s arm could be so damn sexy?

By the time he finished the second sleeve, each one perfectly rolled to the elbow, her entire body was alive with need. Each nerve felt like a wire about to snap as he lifted a hand and crooked a finger, beckoning her to him.

She couldn’t move. Her feet had grown roots and she was firmly planted in the floor.

“You don’t want me to come get you, little girl,” he growled when she made no move to cross the room to him. “Come here. Now.”

The implied threat was enough to have her feet reluctantly shuffling across the floor. When she was finally just a few inches from him, he gripped her chin, forcing her gaze up to his. There was a fierceness in the dark brown she’d never seen before, and it knocked the breath from her lungs.

“You are mine, Diana. Mine to protect, mine to spoil, and mine to punish as I see fit. I always take care of what is mine, even if that means protecting you from your own destructive tendencies. Am I making myself perfectly clear?”

“Yes. Daddy,” she added breathlessly when his grip on her face tightened.

“Good girl. Why are you being punished tonight?”

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