Page 29 of Daddy's Little Spy

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At some point during the night, she must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, she was being lifted from the bed by familiar arms.

Daddy.

She managed to catch herself just before she whispered the word. Forcing her eyes open, she watched in silence as he carried her across the bedroom to the spacious bathroom. The thick leather cuffs were still wrapped around her wrists, linking them together.

“Good morning, bambolina. How did you sleep?” Setting her on her feet by the toilet, he leaned over and flipped the lever to plug the tub and started the water, testing the stream and fiddling with the knobs until he was apparently satisfied with the temperature. From a basket beside the tub, he selected a small bottle and poured a bright pink liquid under the running water. Bubbles immediately appeared and despite herself, excitement nearly had her bouncing on her toes.

Dammit, where was her monster? Where was the man who had wrapped his hand around her throat when she’d tried to weasel out of staying the night? The cold man who’d chained her to the bed and showed her how he’d deliberately, systematically built a trap around her, giving her no choice but to marry him? That was the man she wanted now, not her gentle, caring Daddy who carried her around and gave her bubble baths and — god help her — made her wonder for a moment if maybe marrying him wasn’t the worst possible thing in the world.

“Like shit,” she told him, deliberately keeping her own voice as dry and flat as possible.

“Understandable.” And damn him, he sounded understanding. “You’ll feel much better after a bath. But I’m sure you need to potty first.”

To her horror, he hiked up the dress she was still wearing and forced her down onto the toilet behind her. As hard as she tried, her bladder was too full to ignore. Humiliation churned in her stomach as he waited for her to finish, then helped her up from the seat, bending her over to clean her up.

Tears of humiliation and anger burned at the back of her eyes, her throat tightening painfully with the effort to keep them from falling. Could this day get any worse?

Oh, right. She could be forced to turn her back on her morals, everything she believed in, and marry into the goddamn mafia. That would definitely be worse.

While she was wallowing, he slipped a pair of plastic zip tie cuffs on her and tightened them around her wrists before removing the leather cuffs.

“It’s a shame to destroy this dress.” Pulling a small switchblade from his pocket, he pressed the button to release the blade and sliced up the side of the dress all in one smooth move. The knife went through the material like warm butter and sheer force of will was all that kept her from crying out as the tip of the blade swooshed by her skin. “I rather like how it looks on you. I’ll buy you another.”

Too bad her dignity couldn’t be replaced as easily as the dress he was ripping to shreds. The pieces of the dress fell to the floor around her, and she couldn’t help but see them as a metaphor.

When she was stripped bare, he helped her into the blissfully hot water and she quickly sank under the sea of pale pink bubbles. Doing her best to ignore him, and the confusing feelings he came with, she focused on the bubbles. It was awkward at first, with her hands bound together, but she soon lost herself in the simple joy of pushing them around in the water, making nonsensical little sculptures out of them.

With a single-mindedness she’d learned in a meditation class she’d taken years ago, she gave herself over the easy pleasure of it and let her mind go blank. Here, at least, there were no big decisions for her to make. No life or death scenarios for her to try and escape from. There was only her, and the bubbles.

And her Daddy, though she tried to ignore him. Even when he picked up a washcloth and began scrubbing lightly at her skin, she tried to pretend he wasn’t there. Or, at least, that he wasn’t who he was.

Why did he have to be a Rinaldi? Why couldn’t he have just been some nice, decent guy, whose worst crime was an unpaid parking ticket?

Because you wouldn’t have fallen for him if he was.

Pushing away the intruding thought, she focused on the bubbles again. There was time to pick apart her apparently fucked up psyche later.

All too soon, Daddy was rinsing the conditioner from her hair and telling her it was time to get out of the tub. But out there were Big Girl Decisions, and she wasn’t ready to face them.

So, she ignored him and kept playing.

“Diana. It is time to get out of the bath.”

The warning edge to his tone made her tummy do a weird flip, but she continued to pretend she couldn’t hear him.

A moment later, she was bent in half over the edge of the tub, staring at the pale green bathmat in front of her as his hand, impossibly hard and heavy, connected painfully with her wet skin.

“Ow! I’m sorry Daddy, I’ll be good!” Twisting from side to side, she tried to break free of his hold, but he easily held her in place.

“I’m glad to hear that. You’re still getting your bottom spanked for not listening to Daddy.”

“No!” The long, plaintive wail echoed around the bathroom, mingling with the wet sound of flesh meeting flesh.

How had she not realized how much more a spanking would hurt on wet skin? Every strike of his hand against her ass felt amplified by a thousand as he set her ass on fire. But the pain gave her something new to focus on, and even though she couldn’t help but fight him, she welcomed every inch of the burn spreading across her backside.

“You do not ignore Daddy when he tells you to do something, Diana. Am I making myself clear?”

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