Page 10 of Daddy Enforcer
My pulse kicks up, and I force myself to step back, to focus.
He’s a client, not a Little. NotmyLittle.
Billie looks away, his pout returning, but it’s less convincing now.
“Whatever,” he mutters, turning back to the window. “This place sucks, and so do your rules.”
I bite back a smile.
He’s a handful, no question, but there’s something about him that’s getting under my skin. Not just the sass, but the way he’s trying so hard to hide his fear. I saw it in the truck when he said this threat felt “different,” his eyes locking on mine like he was searching for answers. And now, sitting there, he’s trying to act tough, but his shoulders are tense, his fingers twisting the hem of his jacket.
Billie’s scared, and it makes me want to protect him—not just as a Guard, but as something more. Something I can’t let myself think about.
I move to the kitchen, pulling out my tablet to check the perimeter sensors.
The coded message is still burning in my mind, and I need to act fast. I activate the cabin’s lockdown mode—extra bolts on thedoors, motion detectors on full sensitivity, and a signal jammer to block any unauthorized transmissions.
If someone’s coming for Billie, they’re not getting close without me knowing.
But I need more intel.
I fire off a quick message to Mr. G…
MAX: Asset secure. Request details on source of threat. Suspect deeper motive. Advise.
I glance at Billie again. He’s still staring out the window, but his pout’s softening, like he’s lost in thought. I wonder what’s going on in that head of his.
That bathroom stunt—locking himself in after I called him out—felt like more than just a tantrum. He came out looking different, like he’d been wrestling with something.
My gut tells me it’s tied to that spark I keep seeing, the way he reacts when I push back. I’ve seen it before, in boys who didn’t know they were Littles until someone gave them the structure they needed.
But Billie’s not there yet, and I’m not sure he ever will be.
Not with me, anyway.
I’m his Guard, not his Daddy, no matter what my instincts say.
“Billie,” I say, softening my tone a bit. “You hungry? I can make something. Nothing fancy, but it’ll keep you going.”
He doesn’t look at me, just shrugs.
“Not hungry,” Billie says, his voice quieter now, almost sulky. “I just want to go home.”
My chest tightens.
I know that tone—not just defiance, but longing.
He’s not talking about his mansion or his tour bus. Billie’s talking about something deeper, something he might not even know he’s missing. I want to tell him it’s gonna be okay, that I’ll keep him safe, but I can’t. Not yet. Not until I know what we’re dealing with.
“Get some rest,” I say instead, nodding toward the couch. “We’ve got a long few days ahead. You’ll need it.”
Billie rolls his eyes again but doesn’t argue, just curls up tighter on the couch, his eyes fixed on the snow.
I turn back to my tablet, pulling up the cabin’s security feeds.
This mission’s not what I thought it was, and keeping Billie safe—and happy—might be the toughest job I’ve ever had.
But I’m not losing him, not to a threat, and not to his own defiance.
