Page 61 of What Bad Girls Deserve
“Shh, Little Lulu,” he murmured, his large hand stroking my hair. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
“You’re breaking protocol, Mr. Walton,” a female voice said sharply from across the table.
I turned my tearstained face to see another face I recognized—Esme, the woman I couldn’t help thinking of as a seamstress, though it seemed she actually was much more than that. She sat at the center of the long table, flanked by four other serious-looking people in business suits, all watching us with analytical eyes.
“Fuck protocol,” Jax said, his arms tightening around me. He bent down, his lips brushing against my ear. “It’s going to beokay, baby girl, but we have to get through this. Can you be brave for Daddy?”
I nodded, reluctantly pulling back enough to look up into his steel-gray eyes. “I love you,” I whispered, not caring who heard.
“I love you too,” Jax replied, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear.
I heard tsking and murmurs from the board. The five Selecta assessors exchanged meaningful glances, their expressions impossible to read. I couldn’t stop staring at Jax, couldn’t believe he was really here.
Esme cleared her throat. “Miss Bell, please take a seat.” She gestured to a chair positioned directly across from the board. “Mr. Walton, you know you’re not permitted to speak until the board gives permission.”
Jax gave me a look I couldn’t quite decipher, but I realized he needed me to get through this on my own, to prove to myself that I could do it. I squared my shoulders and moved to the indicated chair, sitting with my hands folded in my lap like a good girl.
“Louisa Bell,” Esme began, consulting a tablet in front of her. “I want to start by acknowledging your instrumental role in last night’s operation. Thanks to your assistance, we’ve successfully dismantled a significant portion of this city’s criminal infrastructure. You should be proud of your contribution.”
I nodded, my eyes drifting back to Jax. I couldn’t help it—his presence had a magnetic pull, drawing my attention no matter how hard I tried to focus on Esme’s words.
“Miss Bell,” Esme said sharply, “I need you to understand that Mr. Walton is not permitted to speak during this evaluation. Ifyou continue to look to him for guidance, it will be noted in your assessment.”
I forced my gaze back to Esme, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice small. “I understand.”
“Good.” Esme smiled slightly, her expression softening. “Now, let’s discuss your rehabilitation. The reports from your time with Mr. Walton suggest you’ve made significant progress in acknowledging your submissive needs and your desire for structure and discipline.”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you feel you’re ready to make amends for your past criminal activities?” Esme asked, studying me with those sharp, assessing eyes.
“I am,” I said with more confidence than I expected to feel. “I just… I don’t know how.”
Esme’s smile widened fractionally. “Fortunately, Selecta is quite good at finding ways for bad girls to pay their debt to society.” She glanced down at her tablet, swiping through several screens. “We’ve spent the last fifteen minutes discussing your case file, including your performance last night and your… exhibition in your cell afterward.”
My face blazed hot at the mention of my lewd display for the cameras. I hadn’t been certain anyone was watching, but of course they had been.
“I imagine, given your intelligence,” Esme continued, “that you’ve figured out that Selecta’s biometric sensors can tell a great deal about you that even you are usually not fully awareof. At that level, frankly, it’s impossible for your body to lie, but of course your mind is where the change must occur, when we try to help a bad girl like you put her feet on the path to a law-abiding—and happy—life.”
I couldn’t help it: I looked over at Jax again. To my dismay, though he wore a little smile, he shook his head, as if warning me.
“Miss Bell,” said the woman sitting to Esme’s right, “the reason Mr. Walton wouldn’t generally—frankly, shouldn’t—be here is that it’s essential that you be able to rehabilitate without him. It’s one of the reasons girls in this facility each have three daddies assigned to them, who share responsibility for their discipline and sexual submission.”
I swallowed hard, thinking about the little of life in the facility I’d seen as Daddy Pete had led me to my cell.
“I…” I said. “Daddy… I mean, Jax… I mean…”
I almost started to cry at my sheer inability to get a coherent sentence to come out of my mouth, but I didn’t look at Jax. I looked straight at Esme, and at the severe-looking woman who had spoken, and forced myself to go on.
“Mr. Walton shared me with… with his bodyguards… I mean, I guess they’re not really his bodyguards… they… they…”
“Rudy Salman and Mateo Herrari,” said a man at the opposite end of the table from Jax. “Mr. Salman and Mr. Herrari are training daddies like Mr. Walton.”
My cheeks grew hot as I remembered Jax sharing me with my ‘other’ Daddies. I nodded.
“Yes. Mr. Walton shared me with Mr. Salman and Mr. Herrari, and I understand now that that was so that I would be able to have that kind of…”
I realized that my words had gone out of control again, their meaning hopelessly tangled. I pushed a sob back down into my chest.
