Page 22 of Daddy's Little Spy

9

The smell of cinnamon and sugar woke her, dragging her up from sleep like a siren’s song. Forcing her eyes open a crack, she surveyed her surroundings, taking in the dark, heavy furniture strategically placed around the spacious room.

Benito’s suite at the Rinaldi estate. Right. She’d ended up staying after all, and judging by the sun peeking through the blinds, she’d slept later than she’d anticipated.

Thankfully it was her off day, though she wouldn’t be telling Benito that. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she pushed up in the bed, her vision slowly clearing as she searched the room for him.

Adrenaline pumped through her veins, a better drug than caffeine for going from sleepy and well-fucked woman to cop in a heartbeat when she realized she was alone. She went to reach for the edge of the blanket, stopping when she realized she was still clutching the teddy bear. Carefully setting the bear by the pillows, she threw the covers off of her, hopped out of the bed, and hurried over to the desk in the corner.

“Of course, you’d have to be a neat freak,” she muttered to herself, noting the lack of anything incriminating left out. There wasn’t so much as a post-it note out of place.

She paused for a second, listening for the sound of approaching footsteps, the door unlocking, anything to tell her she was about to be discovered.

Hearing nothing concerning, she slowly slid the top drawer open. More office supplies — perfectly arranged, of course — and a curious jar of lollipops like they kept at banks for little kids. Flashes of the night before, of the way she’d felt calling him Daddy, the bear he’d given her for comfort during her punishment, had her frowning at the jar.

He’d treated her like a naughty child, and that was exactly how she’d felt. Even during dinner, he’d managed to force her into some strange headspace where she’d teetered between adult and child, between badass cop and naughty little girl.

The big question was, why? Was it just some weird game to him? It hadn’t felt like a game, especially when he’d been whipping her ass. There was enough of a twinge this morning to remind her how thoroughly she’d been punished.

“Focus, Clarke,” she admonished herself, carefully pushing the drawer shut and opening the next. She didn’t have time to stand around trying to figure out Benito Rinaldi’s weird fetishes.

“Who is Clarke?”

Jumping at the sound of his voice, she slammed her knee into the open drawer, a sharp, strangled cry escaping before she could stop it. A long string of Italian met her ears and though she didn’t recognize the words, swearing had pretty much the same sonority in any language.

A second later, she was scooped up in surprisingly strong arms and carried to the bed. Still muttering words she couldn’t understand, Benito sat her on the edge of the mattress and examined her knee, gently prodding at the red mark she already knew would be a bruise by the end of the day.

She hissed at the flash of pain when he poked a particularly sensitive spot, and he finally looked up at her, fury flashing in the dark brown of his eyes. Without even thinking about it, her bottom lip pushed out in a pout, trembling slightly. “Are you mad?”

“I suppose that depends on why you were snooping through my desk in the first place, bambolina.”

Shit, shit, shit. Sometimes the best lies were at least partially true. “I was being nosy. I’m sorry, Daddy.”

To her shock, he visibly relaxed, the fire of fury in his eyes dampening to a much more manageable annoyance. “That was very naughty, Diana. Is it nice to go through someone else’s things without their permission?”

“No, Daddy. I’m really sorry.” A very real guilt churned in her tummy and she chewed at her bottom lip. “Are you gonna spank me?”

“Not this time. I think banging your knee is its own consequence, for now.” Catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he forced her gaze up to him. “But the next time you decide to be nosy, your bottom won’t be so lucky. Understood?”

For about the hundredth time since she’d started this little investigation of hers, she wondered what would happen if she was found out. But unlike before, her mind didn’t jump to having her body tossed in the Chesapeake. Instead, it conjured images of her over her Daddy’s lap getting her bottom spanked bright red. Getting her mouth washed out with soap. Writing I will not investigate Daddy’s business a hundred times.

The last one made her snort with laughter, earning her a raised eyebrow from the man still holding her face hostage. “If you find the idea of being spanked so funny, I obviously didn’t do a thorough enough job last night. Do we need a do-over?”

“No, Daddy,” she rushed to assure him. “I’m really sorry I was snooping. It’s just, I don’t really know a lot about you.”

“Then ask, bambolina. For you, I am an open book.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Releasing his grip on her chin, he stroked the back of his hand across her cheek. “Go ahead. Ask me something you want to know.”

How do you sleep at night? Did Emilio kill Amara’s uncle? Why do you have to be a criminal? All questions she couldn't ask, so she settled for one that seemed more in character.“How can you afford such a big house? Is your family rich?”

“Yes,” he answered easily, surprising her. She’d expected him to skirt around his family’s wealth. “And I don’t live here alone. The house actually belongs to Emilio. I run the household for him, so it makes sense for me to stay here.”

“I thought you were in business together.”

“We are. In addition to running the household, I help him run the family businesses.” Lifting a shoulder in a shrug, he smiled down at her. “It’s complicated to explain, but it’s how our family has done things for generations.”

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