Page 11 of Demon Daddy's Nanny

"I know she breaks rules to get your attention. I know she aces every test but you only ask about the ones she fails. I know she has your wings but clearly her mother’s eyes—” His eyes are golden, not like Annalise’s. “And you can't handle either."

The muscle in his jaw ticks. Papers flutter as his power ripples through the room. "Get out."

"You can’t keep ignoring all of your problems." The words slip out before I can stop them. My heart slams against my ribs, but I plant my feet.

His eyes blaze like molten gold. He stalks around the desk, each step measured, predatory. I have to crane my neck to hold his gaze.

His power crackles through the air, making my skin prickle. The floating orbs flicker and dim, casting twisted shadows across his face. My legs want to shake, but I lock my knees.

"You know nothing of how I raise my child." His voice drops lower, a growl that vibrates in my chest.

I lift my chin. "Maybe if you actuallyraisedher, she wouldn't be running off to strangers."

The temperature plunges. Frost creeps along the edges of the windows. His massive wings spread wider, golden feathers bristling as he towers over me. One step and he's in my space, close enough I can see the flecks of amber in his eyes, smell leather and smoke on his skin.

"Choose your next words carefully." His fingers curl at his sides. "You are a servant in this house, nothing more."

"I'm the only one who sees her." My voice rises, betraying the tremor I'm fighting to control. "While you hide in here with your papers and your meetings, she's out there trying anything to make you look at her. She might not have left the estate since I’ve come here, but it’s taken me two weeks to see something you should’ve by now. What will it take? Does she need to fall and break her neck before you notice?"

His hand shoots out, slamming against the wall beside my head. The impact shakes dust from the ceiling. "I notice everything."

"Maybe." I press my palms flat against his chest and shove. He doesn't budge, but his eyes widen at my audacity. "But you only mention her failures. Her mistakes. When's the last time you asked about her art? Her music? Did you know she composes? That she stays up late reading poetry? That she-"

"Enough." The word cracks like a whip.

"She needs her father, not her commander."

His other hand finds the wall, caging me between his arms. "You overstep."

"Someone has to." I meet his glare, refusing to shrink despite my racing pulse. "Because you're too busy being the perfect leader to see you're losing her."

I spend the rest of the evening in the kitchen, hands shaking as I aggressively knead dough and replay our confrontation. The sun sinks below the horizon, casting long shadows through the windows. My stomach churns. Any minute now, a guard will appear to escort me out. Instead, the dinner bell chimes.

I watch the other servants plate and roll dinner into the formal dining room, knowing Annalise will expect me. I share every meal with her so I won’t be alone.

With dread pooling in my stomach, I head to the dining room. The heavy doors creak open. I freeze.

Ridwan sits at the head of the massive table, his wings folded tight against the high-backed chair. Annalise is standing by her own seat, silver eyes wide as she stares at her father. The floating orbs cast a warm glow across the polished wood, highlighting the tension in both their shoulders.

My hands tremble as I take my seat. Neither speaks. Ridwan's jaw remains tight, the scar on his cheek more pronounced in the dim light. But he's here - actually sitting at the table instead of locked in his study with paperwork.

Annalise pushes food around her plate, sneaking glances at him between bites. Her wings twitch with nervous energy. The silence stretches, broken only by the soft clink of silverware.

"These vegetables are seasoned well," Ridwan says finally, his deep voice startling in the quiet.

Annalise's head snaps up. "I helped Eva harvest them in the garden.."

A muscle ticks in his jaw, but he nods. "I noticed."

The simple acknowledgment makes Annalise's wings relax slightly. She takes a real bite of food, then another. The rigid line of her spine softens degree by degree.

I don’t say a word, watching father and daughter share their first meal together in months. They barely speak - but the silence feels different now. Less like a wall and more like a bridge waiting to be crossed.

Annalise's shoulders have lost their defensive hunch. For once, she looks her age - a young girl having dinner with her father, not a soldier awaiting orders. And though Ridwan's expression remains stern, his golden eyes track her movements with something that looks almost like longing.

6

RIDWAN

---