Page 17 of Demon Daddy's Nanny

My hands remember too much. The curve of her shoulder. The heat of her skin. The way she moved with such fluid grace, like she belonged in my space. Like she had every right to leave her mark on my flesh, even through layers of clothing.

I drop into my chair, wings spreading wide with agitation. The stack of reports mocks me, demanding attention I can't give. Not when my hands still burn with the echo of her touch.

9

EVA

The morning sun streams through the tall windows of the study as I help Annalise with her arithmetic. She hunches over her desk, platinum hair falling like a curtain around her face while she scribbles numbers across the page. I lean against the wall nearby, watching her progress.

A shadow crosses the doorway. Ridwan stands there, his massive wings folded against his back, their golden feathers catching the light. His presence fills the room, making the air feel thicker. Heavier.

"Father." Annalise doesn't look up from her work. "Did you need something?"

"Just checking your progress." His deep voice rumbles through the space between us.

I feel his gaze slide over to me, lingering like a physical touch. My skin prickles with awareness. When I glance up, his golden eyes are already moving away, but there's a tension in his jaw that wasn't there before.

This has been happening more lately. These loaded moments where time seems to stretch and bend. Where his stoic maskslips just enough for me to catch glimpses of something else underneath.

"I'm almost finished," Annalise says, her tone carrying that edge of defiance she reserves for him.

Ridwan doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he takes a few steps into the room, his movements carrying the fluid grace of a predator. I press my back harder against the wall, trying to make myself smaller as he approaches his daughter's desk. But even as he looks down at her work, I feel his attention split - part of it always remaining with me.

"Good." He straightens, and though he's facing Annalise, his body angles slightly in my direction. "Continue."

He turns to leave, and I catch the way his fingers flex at his sides, like he's restraining himself from reaching out. The scar on his cheek catches the light, making him look dangerous and untouchable. But there's something in the set of his shoulders, in the careful way he holds himself apart, that speaks of control rather than indifference.

As he passes through the doorway, his wing brushes the frame - an unusual slip for someone usually so precise in his movements. The gesture feels almost deliberate, like he's reminding us both of his physical presence. Of his power.

Long after he's gone, I can still feel the weight of his unspoken attention pressing against my skin.

The study's tense atmosphere lingers through dinner, but by morning I've made up my mind. I can't keep tiptoeing around whatever this is between us. I’ve felt it brewing in the weeks I’ve been here, and since that night that I found him in the training room, there’s been tension between us. Like we’re circling one another.

I arrive early to the dining room, before Annalise's usual appearance. Ridwan sits at the head of the long table, papers spread before him as he picks at his breakfast. His dark wavesfall across his forehead as he reads, and I notice the way his brow furrows in concentration.

"Those must be fascinating reports." I slide a fresh plate of sweet rolls onto the table. "Your eggs are getting cold while you devour all that riveting paperwork."

His head snaps up, golden eyes narrowing. But there's something else there too - a flicker of surprise at my boldness.

"The trade agreements won't review themselves." His voice carries its usual commanding tone, but lacks its typical edge.

"No, but they might be easier to digest with actual food." I reach across him to move a stack of papers, deliberately letting my arm brush his. The contact sends a thrill dancing across my skin. "Unless xaphan sustain themselves on diplomatic correspondence these days?"

His lips twitch, just slightly, fighting against the smile I can see trying to break free. The scar on his cheek pulls with the movement, softening his severe features for just a moment.

"Careful." The word comes out low, rough. "Some might consider such familiarity inappropriate."

"Some might." I straighten, meeting his gaze directly. "But you've never struck me as someone who cares much for others' considerations."

This time the twitch is more pronounced, a ghost of amusement dancing across his face before he schools his features back to neutrality. His wings shift behind him, the golden feathers catching the morning light in a way that makes my breath catch.

"You're unusually bold this morning." He sets down his papers, giving me his full attention.

"Perhaps I'm tired of pretending I don't notice things." I push his plate closer. "Like how you haven't eaten a proper breakfast in days."

A door scrapes against the floor, and I turn to find Annalise standing in the doorway, her silver eyes dancing with mischief. She glides into the room with that ethereal grace she inherited from her father, though her smirk is all her own.

"Good morning." She drops into her usual seat, her golden wings settling behind her. Her gaze flicks between Ridwan and me, that knowing smile growing wider. "Am I interrupting something?"

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