It’s not just that he brushes it. He brushes out all the tangles and then twists it into the most perfect French braid I’ve ever seen. When he hands me his phone so I can check my hair in the camera, I can’t help but stare at myself.
I look Little. Like,reallyLittle. The way I’ve always dreamed of but could never quite get to on my own.
Seriously. What thehellis going on?
Donovan
While Millie admires her braid, I gather our things, folding the clothes she wore onto the plane and placing them in my bag. Reaching for the dragon buckled into the seat beside mine, I hesitate.
“Do you want to carry your dragon, little one?”
For just a second when she looks up at me, I see the Little girl she was always meant to be. Bright-eyed and happy, without a care in the world.
But then that Little girl disappears and Camilla worries at her bottom lip with her teeth. “Oh. I don’t know. I don’t want to embarrass you.”
“Camilla, you’ve worked for me for nearly a year now. Do you really think I give a flying fuck what any of these people think of me?”
Pink blossoms on her cheeks as gazes longingly at her dragon. “No… but I probably shouldn’t. People will think it’s weird.”
I’m tempted to push the issue. Because I really, truly don’t care what anyone at this conference thinks of me, and even less what they think of my Little girl. I don’t care if they take one look at us together and assume I’m her Daddy. If it were up to me, I’d be shouting it from the rooftops already.
But I do have her feelings to consider. Once we’re back on the island, there will be no hiding who and what we are. For now, however, I’m willing to allow some discretion.
“Then how about I keep him in my bag? That way you can get to him easily if you need him.”
A dazzling smile lights her face. “Thank you, Sir. That’s… really nice.”
She sounds so confused, it’s all I can do not to laugh. “You’re welcome, little one. We should get going. If we’re late for the cocktail hour tonight I’ll have to punish you again.”
Scrambling to her feet, Camilla heads for the exit. I want to call her back, to tell her Little girls wait for their Daddies. But we aren’t quite there yet, so I bite my tongue as I follow her down the steps and to the car. The driver reaches for my bag, but I wave him off as I duck into the backseat just as Camilla lets out a happy squeal.
“Oooh, champagne!” Diving out of her seat, she grabs the bottle currently chilling in a bucket of ice. “Wanna grab those flutes and I’ll pour us some?”
“Absolutely not.” I may not be ready to claim her as my Little girl just yet, but I still have a responsibility to her. “There will be no drinking for you on this trip, little girl.”
Mouth falling open, she gapes at me. “But that’s not fair!”
“It’s very fair.Littlegirls do not drink champagne. That’s a Big girl drink.”
“Ugh!” Bottom lip pushing out in a pout, she pushed the bottle back into the ice and flops back against the seat, glaring out the window. “I can’t wait until this stupid convention is over so I don’t have to listen to you anymore.”
It’s all I can do not to laugh at her sulky pronouncement. Little does she know that as soon as the event is over, she will be even more under my control than ever. But for now, I’m willing to let her have her delusions.
And the closer we get to the actual city, the more her pouting fades. Until she's sitting up on her knees, craning her neck,trying to see everything as we crawl through the streets of New York.
“Everything is sotall.”
There’s a sense of wonder in her voice that tugs at my heartstrings. I wish we had time to sightsee a bit before we return to the island. But my instincts tell me the longer I keep her away from home, the harder it will be for her to fully embrace her new life as my baby. Maybe once she’s fully settled into that role, I can bring her back to the city to explore a bit. It’s a fun fantasy, imagining her wide-eyed wonder as we see everything New York has to offer, with her hand clutched in mine.
The car stops in front of our hotel and in her excitement, Camilla lunges for the door. But not the door facing the sidewalk, no, she’s about to go tumbling out into the street. Moving purely on instinct I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her onto my lap.
A shocked squeak escapes her as I flip her over my knee and deliver six stinging swats to the tops of her thighs before helping her back up to perch on my knee. Her eyes are wide, glassy with tears as she pouts up at me.
“What was that for?”
“You wait for the driver to let us out, and you never ever get out on the traffic side. Am I understood?”
Eyes widening even further, she looks over at the door, apparently realizing for the first time how much danger she nearly put herself in. “Oh. Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”
