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“Goddammit.” She glared at the wet spot. Daddy expected her paper to be neat and presentable and now she’d have to start all over again, which meant she wouldn’t finish and she’d get a whipping with Daddy’s thick, scary belt. All because she was a big crybaby.
Resentment started to build, crowding out the happy, contented feeling she’d had after her spanking. It wasn’t her fault, really, that things had gone so sideways between her and James. So why was she the only one being punished? It wasn’t fair.
Resentment grew to outright anger and she slammed the pencil down on the desk. She stood up and yanked her panties and pajama bottoms up, wincing a bit when the cotton brushed against her raw skin. The flash of pain made her pause. If she didn’t finish her lines because she messed up and had to start over, there was always the chance James would show her some mercy. But if she didn’t finish because she was being stubborn, even the smallest chance at leniency would evaporate. Sitting comfortably would be a distant memory if he kept his promise of one stroke for every line she didn’t finish.
But it still wasn’t fair. Dammit, she’d paid the piper with that drawn-out session over his knee. Her bottom was still warm to the touch and sitting on the chair had been hell. It simply wasn’t right for him to keep punishing her.
Her mind made up, she stormed out of her pretty little bedroom down the hall to their master suite. Here, James’s influence was more noticeable, though her taste still reigned supreme, much like the rest of their house. Ignoring the guilt gnawing at her tummy, she grabbed her Kindle and stretched out on top of the cream-colored duvet. She opened the book she’d been trying to read all week, about a daring female spy and the hard-nosed man she’d been paired with who didn’t take lightly to her putting herself in danger. It didn’t take long for her to lose herself in the story, and she was deep in a world of intrigue and danger when the Kindle suddenly disappeared from her hands.
Blinking in surprise, she lifted her head to meet James’s furious gaze. With more calm than she felt, she smiled up at him. “Oh. Hey. Is dinner ready?”
The widening of his eyes was actually rather comical, but she wisely smothered the laugh bubbling in her chest. There was bratty and defiant, and then there was just fucking stupid. Laughing at him when he was clearly furious with her definitely fell under ‘fucking stupid.’
“You have five seconds to explain why I shouldn’t take my belt off right now and give you every one of the ninety-five licks you have coming, young lady.”
The resentment that had pushed her to disobey in the first place rose to the surface and she pushed herself to her knees so they were eye to eye. “Because it’s not fair! I shouldn’t have to get punished over and over when you fucked up, too!”
The muscle in his jaw ticked. “Your dinner won’t taste nearly as good after I wash your mouth out. That’s the only warning you get, Olivia Jane.”
She knew firsthand he wasn’t bluffing. Soap, hot sauce, vinegar. He’d employed each and every trick in the book to break her swearing habit years ago. Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at him. “I’m not writing lines.”
They stayed there, eye to eye, for several long moments before he answered her. “Go to your room.”
Her heart thumped hard against her chest. “James, can’t we talk about this?”
“Now, Olivia Jane Monroe.”
“Fine.” Tears of frustration and humiliation burned against her eyes. She climbed off the bed and stomped down the hall to her room. James was right behind her, and the second she stepped through her door, he grabbed her arm and marched her to the desk.
James jabbed a finger at the five lines she’d written. “What does this say?”
“Why?”
Several hard swats had her dancing in place as he renewed the fire in her bottom. “Read it, Olivia.”
“Fine!” she snapped, trying to jerk her arm away but his grip on her only tightened. “It says ‘I will be honest with Daddy.’ Happy?”
“Are you being completely honest with me about why you didn’t write your lines?”
The guilt she’d been trying to ignore clawed at her tummy. “I don’t know,” she mumbled.
“Then let’s try again.” His voice gentled, but the grip on her arm didn’t ease. “Why didn’t you finish your lines?”
The wet spot on the paper had dried, leaving behind smudged ink and a slightly wrinkled spot on the paper. It mocked her, telling her she wasn’t brave enough or smart enough to tell the truth.
“I was sad,” she said, not lifting her eyes from the mocking little spot.
“Why were you sad, little one? Because I spanked you and made you write lines?”
“No.”
“Then tell me why you were sad.”
“Be-because I wasn’t honest. I-I lied a lot and I ruined everything.”
“Oh, Livvy.”
“I’m sorry.” The sob burst out of her and a split second later she was in his arms, weeping into his chest. “I’m sorry I’m so bad and I ruined everything and I didn’t write my lines and—and—and—”
