“Youcantrust me. I want to look after you.”
I pulled in a deep breath.
“And I won’t let you down.” He stopped and turned to me, cupped my cheek in his free hand. “Be a good girl and I’ll give you everything you missed out on, everything you need now as a beautiful, strong woman.”
His eyes flashed with determination and sincerity. A warm feeling grew in my belly. A spark of hope. Because I needed a man I could rely on and connect with. Perhaps Mitch was the one. The first one. Every other had hot-footed it out of my apartment at breakneck speed as soon as the deed was done.
I broke the eye contact and pointed in the direction of the restaurant. “My office is not far from here.”
“Sports marketing, right?”
“Yes, promoting big matches, tournaments, and games. Organizing merchandise, that kind of thing. I like it.”
“Why? Why do you like it?”
“I guess it’s creative, fast-paced, fun, people enjoy sport. It’s not like I’m promoting flea repellent or toe fungus cures.” I laughed. “Big games are a highlight of many people’s calendars.”
He nodded. “I see what you mean.”
“Do you enjoy your job?” I asked.
He paused at the entrance to Carlos. “Enjoy, no, but that doesn’t mean I don’t find it rewarding.” He pressed his hand over his chest. “I have a strong sense of justice, I truly, deep in my soul believe that criminals should pay appropriately for their crimes. Being a police officer gives me the tools to make that happen.”
“I would agree. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.”
“Exactly.” His voice was gruff. “The scales of justice must always be balanced.” He opened the door, his thick biceps straining the sleeves of his t-shirt. “In you go.”
I did as he’d asked, and we were soon seated at the back of the restaurant in a cozy booth. The scents of oregano and garlic filled the warm air, and a gentle hum of chatter accompanied soft music.
The waitress came over with two laminated orange menus. She gave one to Mitch and handed one to me.
“No, no,” he said and waved it away. “We only need one menu. I’ll be ordering for her.”
I opened my mouth to object but when I saw the challenging sparkle in his eyes I kept quiet. This was part of the game, him being my daddy and choosing my meal.
Okay, I could work with that.
“Of course.” The waitress pasted on a professional smile. “And to drink?”
“I’ll take a draft lager and she’ll have a tall glass of cold milk.”
The waitress glanced at me.
I swallowed, then nodded. “Thank you.”
“Coming right up.” She disappeared.
Mitch leaned forward. “Little girls need their milk to get big and strong,” he said.
“What if I don’t like milk?”
“Doesn’t matter, you have to do what Daddy says.” He reached forward and touched his finger to the tip of my nose. “You want to be a good girl and get treats, don’t you?”
“What kind of treats?”
“You’ll find out if you drink your milk up and eat all your dinner.” He opened the menu and studied it.
I sat quietly, waiting for my milk, waiting to see what he’d order for me.
