“You’re letting me sleep in your bed tonight, Daddy?”
“This isn’t my bed anymore, little girl. This is our bed now,” he replied decisively, and I hummed contentedly at just how firmly he’d said those words.
“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered as his arm circled around me. He pulled my body close and I sighed with sheer happiness.
“Daddy?” I whispered hesitantly.
“What is it, little girl?” he answered gently.
“I love you, Daddy,” I said, unable to hide the way my voice trembled as the words left my mouth.
“I love you too, little girl. I have since the moment you walked in my door and blushed for me for the very first time,” he replied. His arms squeezed even more tightly around me. I didn’t know what to say, but really, I didn’t need to say anything at all. Righthere in his arms, everything was perfect. He was my daddy, and I was his little girl.
CHAPTER 15
Keri
I had known, the moment the words left my mouth, that I was going to be in serious trouble.
The journalist had been insufferable. She’d cornered me at the mayor’s charity gala, the same charity gala that Jaxon had expressly told me was a professional appearance only,the same one he had warned me no fewer than three times to be on my best behavior for. She’d wedged herself between me and the canapé table with that smug little recorder held up like a weapon and asked me right there in front of half the city’s administration whether I thought it was appropriate for a woman in my position to be publicly involved with a man of Jaxon’s questionable financial influence.
I should have smiled.
I should have excused myself.
I did not do either of those things.
What I did instead, in a voice that carried very clearly over the string quartet and the clinking of champagne flutes, was inform her exactly what I thought of her publication, her research methods, and the particular brand of journalistic integrity she had apparently purchased from a clearance bin somewhere. By the time I finished, she had gone the color of a poached salmon, and I had the full attention of everyone within a twenty-foot radius.
Jaxon had appeared at my elbow twelve seconds later. I knew because I had counted. His hand had settled firmly at the small of my back, and he had smiled at the journalist with that terrible, pleasant smile that meant absolutely nothing good for anyone, especially for me.
“Darling,” he had said pleasantly, “why don’t we get some air.”
It had not been a question.
The car ride home had been completely silent. Not the comfortable kind. The kind where I knew without the question of a doubt that I had earned a spanking, and a hard one at that.
Now I stood in the center of his study—our study, I corrected myself, because I lived here now—with my hands clasped in front of me and my eyes fixed on the swirling pattern of the rug because looking at him directly was simply not something I was capable of at the moment.
“Do you want to tell me what that was?” he said.
His voice was even. Quiet. That was worse than if he had been angry.
“She was being provocative,” I said, which was true.
“She was doing her job,” he replied.
“Her job is to insinuate that I only have my position because I’m sleeping with?—”
“Keri.”
Just my name. That was all. One word, and my sentence died in the back of my throat. My bottom clenched and a surge of worry hurtled through me.
What came next was going to hurt.
I pressed my lips together and stared at the rug.
“Look at me, little girl.”
