Page 22 of Punish Me, Daddy

“I am.”

“God help us all,” he muttered. “If you hurt her?—”

“I won’t,” I cut him off. “She’ll be better with me. You’ll see. Eventually she’ll stop fighting it. She’ll end up happy. I promise you that.”

There was a hoarse sigh on the other end. It wasn’t laced with approval, but tired acceptance.

“This is going to be a goddamn mess,” he sighed.

I grinned. “She’s worth the mess.”

CHAPTER 10

Sloane

I stood in front of my mirror, lining my lips in a matte burgundy red so deep it almost looked black in the shadows. My cat eye was as sharp as a knife, and I cocked my head to admire it. Then I tilted my head to the side and smudged my shadow just a little more—smoky, messy, like I hadn’t spent thirty minutes perfecting it.

My favorite black leather jacket. Different from the one I wore the other night. Fishnets. Dark green slip dress trimmed with black lace, cut just short enough to make old men nervous and dangerous men curious.

I looked like a problem.

Good.

I’d always had a soft spot for being underestimated.

I pulled my hair into a messy high ponytail, then let two strands fall loose around my face. I tossed a switchblade into my bag, out of habit now. Ghost once called it ‘hot girl insurance.’

I didn’t think I’d need it tonight, but still.

I gave myself one last look in the mirror and grinned.

Not bad for a girl who just rigged a betting system, messed with a fighter’s odds, and was just about to slip out of a heavily surveilled house with three security guards who still thought I was asleep upstairs like a well-behaved little princess.

If my father only knew…

He’d yell. He’d lecture. He’d probably call in some favors and threaten people he shouldn’t, and I’d ignore him anyway.

The truth was he didn’t get it. He didn’t getme.

He wanted me to settle down, marry someone with a golf membership and a spreadsheet addiction, smile at galas, keep my legs crossed and my reputation clean.

That just wasn’t me.

I wanted to be where the blood hit the floor. I wanted to stand ringside and feel the impact vibrate up my legs. I wanted to look a man in the eyes andknowhe could break me—and trust that he wouldn’t unless I asked him to.

Tonight, I wanted to seehimagain. The man who could break me.

I didn’t say his name. Not even in my head. But both my head and my body knew who I was talking about.

I slid out the side gate of the estate—the same route as last time, bypassing the cameras with a shortcut through the garden and a little shimmy over the stone wall.

By 11:15, I was back in Southie, standing outside the blue steel door with the flickering light, heart racing like I hadn’t just done this a few nights ago.

I knocked twice.

Waited for the return.

Knock. Knock.

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