Page 54 of Submitting to Daddy
“You don’t have to,” he snaps. “Just move.”
Still in shock, I stand from the chair. My limbs feel heavy, like they’re not mine.
I’m yanked out into a hallway. A firm hand clamps down on my upper arm, steering me like I’m a flight risk. The corridor is long and narrow, the fluorescent lights buzzing above. I try to glance behind me—try to understandwhythis is happening—but no one explains. I’m completely lost… Until I seehim.
Cillian rounds the far corner at the end of the hall, a pair of my sneakers dangling from his hand. His eyes immediately lock onto mine. He’s dressed in a dark suit, flanked by an older man I don’t recognize. The hand on my arm drops at the sight of them, and I run. Tears of joy stream down my face, and my bare feet slap against the carpet-tiled floor with every step.
I don’t care that I’m crying. Don’t care that I look insane. I don’t stop. I sprint straight into his arms. He catches me mid-stride, lifting me off the ground as I collide with his chest, sobbing into his collar.
“I told you I’d come for you,” he breathes, voice breaking as he buries his face in my hair. “There is nothing in the world that could keep me away from you.”
From the second Madison jumps into my arms, my hands don’t leave her, not once.
We step through the double doors, and the soles of our shoes slap across the polished marble floors. Her fingers tangle with mine and squeeze tightly, like she’s still afraid. Like she doesn’t believe she’s free. She is—for now—but I know the clock is ticking.
We descend the stairwell to the parking garage together, passing silent agents who pretend not to look, though every single one of themdoes.Their faces are an array of confusion, disgust, and fear. My girl walks tall, like the queen—or more correctly, the King—that she is.
The garage is cool and damp as we move through the echoing space. I guide her toward Nikolai’s matte-black Range Rover parked near the exit, Reuben a step behind us, muttering legalese under his breath like he’s praying to some bureaucratic god.
“Cillian,” he calls, catching up beside me, “I told you, I can’t guarantee this loophole holds. Once the Bureau regroups, they’ll be right back on the case. Unless they have another viable lead for Frankford, they’ll come back for her.”
“I know,” I mutter, already devising a plan to frame some poor schmuck for his death.
“So don’t wait.” He grabs my hand, shaking it firmly. “If you’re going to do this, do it now.”
“Don’t wait for what? Do what now?” Madison’s voice cracks beside me, raw and hoarse. Ignoring her question, I open the car door and gently guide her inside. She turns toward me after sliding into her seat, and I buckle her seatbelt. “I don’t want to run, Cillian. I can’t spend my life like that.”
“Kings don’t run,” Nikolai imparts from the front seat, glancing at her in the rearview mirror as I climb in beside her. “We reload.”
“We’re getting married,” I say flatly.
Madison’s head jerks from Nik’s reflection in the rearview to me. “Wait—what?”
“Congratulations,” Nikolai chimes, already pulling out of the space with one hand on the wheel.
“Shut up, Nik,” I snarl as I lace my fingers through Madison’s again. “As my wife, you can’t be compelled to testify againstme. We’re taking care of Frankford. Everything else the FBI has on you revolves around me. The second you’re off the hook forme, they’ve got nothing.”
Her expression tightens, and she shakes her head. “Cillian…”
I turn in the seat and cup her face gently, my thumb grazing her jaw. With my eyes locked on hers, I ask a question I already know the answer to. “Do you love me?”
Tears well in her eyes. “Yes.”
“Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Then marry me,” I softly insist. “Marry me right now, firecracker. Not just because of the FBI. Not just to protect you. But because I want this. I wantyou, with my whole heart, until my last breath. And even then… it still wouldn’t be long enough.”
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath like she’s trying to steady herself. They open slowly, and I can see the answer in her warm chocolate pools before she speaks. “Yes,” she exhales. “Yes, Daddy. I’ll marry you.”
We make our way through the courthouse to Judge Ralston’s office—the large corner one on the third floor. He looks up from his desk with a startle when I push open the door. Enzo is sitting opposite him—tapping a gun mindlessly against the desk—with Eavan by his side.
“I told you,” Enzo gloats as we step inside, “we just need a favor.”
“Favors,” the judge snaps, “don’t usually involve guns in my face.”
Nikolai closes the door behind us. “Don’t mind him. He’s being dramatic.”
