Page 34 of Cinderella and the Daddy
He studies my face for a long moment. I can see the war playing out in his expression—desire warring with concern, the predator in him recognizing weakness. But then he steps back, giving me space to breathe.
"Get some rest," he says.
There's something almost gentle in his voice.
Hours later, I lie awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling as my mind races. The dizziness has passed, but something else has taken its place—a creeping realization that makes my blood run cold.
When was my last period?
I count backward, my heart sinking with each passing day. Three weeks. No, four. Maybe five. Shit, how long has it been since I've had to think about something so normal, so routine? Time moves differently here.
But I know. Deep in my bones, in that primal way women have always known,I know.
Terror floods my system, cold and paralyzing.
10
LUKA
The rage builds slowly, like a cancer eating away at my chest as I stare at the laptop screen in my office. The blue glow illuminates my face in the darkness, but all I can see is red. Betrayal tastes like copper in my mouth, metallic and bitter.
"Run it again," I growl to Dimitri, my hacker, though we both know the results won't change.
His fingers dance across the keyboard. Dimitri is barely twenty-five, all nervous energy and caffeine addiction.
He's the best at what he does. Has to be in my line of work. The screen flickers, data streaming in real-time, and there it is again—the proof that's been gnawing at my gut for the past hour.
"Same result, boss," Dimitri says, his Russian accent thick with exhaustion. He only arrived from Moscow about six months ago. I’m slowly recruiting men I know I can trust, building up my organization a little at a time.
Dimitri yawns and rubs his hand over his face. "Someone inside the compound has been leaking movement data. Real-time locations of your security details, entry and exit times, and patrol routes. Everything."
I lean back in my leather chair. Shipments are going missing. Deals falling through at the last second. I suspect we have rats in the organization. It wouldn’t be the first or the last time rats infiltrated any organization. Foot soldiers looking to make a quick buck by selling information to rivals or the feds.
But this is different.
"The tracker signals," I say, my voice deadly quiet. "Show me the pattern again."
The screen shifts, showing a map of the compound overlaid with movement patterns. Small dots trace paths throughout the property, each one representing a tracked asset. Most follow predictable routes—my men going about their daily routines, security sweeps, and supply deliveries.
But one dot moves differently. Erratically. It's been in places it shouldn't be, at times that don't make sense.
Cindy’s tracker.
I don't trust anyone.
Especially not her.
"Boss?" Dimitri's voice seems to come from far away. "What are your orders?"
I'm already standing, my chair rolling back to hit the wall with a dull thud. The Glock at my hip feels heavier than usual as I check the chamber, muscle memory taking over while mymind races through possibilities. How long has she been feeding information to my enemies?
Was this always the plan—to get close to me, to Leo? Destroy my organization from within?
I tell myself they couldn’t have known I would bring her here. Keep her.
But she hasn’t tried to escape.
Did she seduce me?
