Page 32 of Domination

“Bo-Bo,” she blubbers, attempting to copy his nickname for her. The fact he has one sends butterflies floating through my veins.

“Clever girl.” He kneels beside the bath, then he gently tucks my hair behind my ear. “Now, when I said toys, I meant bath toys for Bonnie.” He tilts his head toward the bath, and my mouth falls open. “I have plenty of those other toys, you’ll find out soon enough.” My eyes widen, and I try to speak but can’t. “Did you bring any of her bath toys?”

My heart hammers. Partly because I’m embarrassed, stunned, and a floundering idiot, and also because she doesn’t have bath toys. I clear my throat. “She doesn’thave any bath toys,” I state. His eyes narrow, and I worry I’ve said too much.

The vein on his temple throbs, and I hear him grind his teeth. My fingers itch to caress his jaw, and somehow, I find the courage to do it. The moment my hand touches his five o’clock shadow, his taut muscles relax, and he turns his cheek into my palm. “I don’t know who’s worse, your father or hers.” His tone is solemn, and I scan his face, unsure of what he means. “Leaving her with no toys for the bath. My sons are forever sending me photos of their kids in the bath.” He waves his arm out toward the tiled wall. “It looks like a fucking amusement park in their bathroom.” My lip wobbles at his words, and my hand slips from his face. Being reminded what my daughter is missing out on is like a knife being plunged into my stomach. “Hey”—he brings my hand to his lips—“I’ll buy her as many toys as she needs.”

“She doesn’t need them,” I whisper. As much as I’d like my daughter to have them, they’re not a necessity. I’ve used empty milk cartons and plastic yogurt pots for her to play with before. What’s important is her future.

“I’m buying them anyway.” His eyes bore into mine, most likely waiting for an argument. Finally, he clears his throat. “When you’ve finished bathing Bonnie, I want you bent over the bed for your punishment.”

My mouth drops open. “Wh-what? Why?”

“Because I gave you an instruction, and you spoke back.” He says it so casually, like he didn’t just threaten me with a promise of punishment.

I rear back. “Is that in the contract?”

He eyes me with suspicion, and I instantly find thehem of my T-shirt to cling onto. His eyes travel over me, and once again, I find myself feeling inadequate. “I don’t know. Is it?” His eyes have darkened, and my throat becomes dry as he challenges me.

“I-I haven’t gotten around to reading it all yet.”

He sighs heavily, and I hate the way his face falls with disappointment. I want to throw my arms around his neck and beg him for my forgiveness, which is just ridiculous, but I long to have his reassurance. I blink back the tears threatening to spill, and when his warm hand cups my chin and turns my head to face him, I let out a sigh of relief that his face is no longer etched in sorrow. “Do you want me to bathe you?” His husky voice sends a shot of enthusiasm through me, and I nod.

He glances back toward Bonnie. “Will she need fed before she goes to sleep?”

“Probably.”

He nods. “I have a doctor coming over to give you your birth control shot.” My heart leaps in my chest. “But first, I have some calls to make. I want you to get Bon-Bon”—my breathing stutters again at his nickname—“ready for bed, feed her, then put her down for bedtime.”

“What about my bath?” I ask, and his lip curls into a smile.

“I’ll bathe with you once the doctor has finished.”

I nod, a thrill of excitement zipping up my spine, and when he leans forward and places his lips on my forehead, I melt beneath his touch, and between my legs becomes wet.

“Good girl,” he rasps, probably knowing the effecthe has on me.

I don’t think he realizes the depths of my desire for him, and my feelings are the scariest part. If he wanted me to stay forever, I’d throw my plan out the window to keep him.

But I can’t do that, not with our lives at stake.

Chapter Eighteen

Vinny

“Tell me everything,” I bite out before Hazel has even closed the office door. She opens her mouth to speak, but I beat her to it. “Message after fucking message all day long.” I rub my temple; I’m getting too damn old for all this shit.

“You said to let you know of everything she does and any suspicions,” she counters, and she’s right, I did.

“Tell me everything, from the start.” I roll my hand for her to start speaking.

“Well—” She takes a deep breath, then helps herself to a chair at my desk without so much as asking. Anticipation buzzes through me, and I want to put a gun to her head and tell her to get the fuck on with it, but I remember who she is and what I asked of her. Her direct instructions were to tell me everything and anything about Gracie, but I didn’t expect a running commentaryabout their day. Despite enjoying it, the moment red flags were raised, I wanted to get back home to her and demand answers, but my little pet is skittish. She longs for reassurance and comfort, and her big blue eyes plead for tenderness. Yet another reason I can’t ever reveal my true self to her. She’d hate me, and I can’t have that—it would destroy anything good I have left in me.

Hazel glances around the room like she hasn’t been in here a million times.

Annoyance bubbles inside me. “Hazel?”

“Hmm?”

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