Page 38 of Daddy's Reluctant Queen

That gets him every time. His breath changes and his pupils dilate. His mouth starts to wet a little as he licks his lips. Oh, I’m in for it now.

He looks away from me, then he lets me go, taking a step back. “You’ll get yours,” he says. “Later. I’ve got too much work today to spend time correcting your behavior before I fuck you.”

Damn.

“I still need you to get dressed, however. It’s Tuesday.”

I deflate a little. Tuesdays, I’m allowed to leave the house for a couple of hours. Always with Luka, and usually to the park, since that’s closest. Titus has never said that he sends someone to watch me, but I know that he does. Sometimes, I think I spot hissovietnika few yards away as Luka plays on the swings.

“You look a little disappointed,” he says. “Taking Luka to the park on a weekly basis was your idea.”

“I know,” I say. “I just…” I stop myself on the edge of a thought that just pops into my mind.I was hoping you and I could spend some time together. I must be losing my damn mind.

I sigh and say, “Never mind. Give me about twenty minutes and I’ll be ready.”

He nods. “Good.”

He watches me as I walk to the bathroom. I pause and turn to him in the doorway. “Maybe there’s some way you can make time to punish me after I shower? Wet skin makes a loud noise when smacked.”

His smile broadens and he answers, “Maybe doing nothing this timeisyour punishment, Princess. Stop being so fucking eager.”

I roll my eyes and step into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

Luka,as usual, is over the moon at the idea of going to the park. Anytime he can get out of the house is a good time. If there’s anybody who understands that, it’s me. There are days I pick the lock of my room just to sit on the back porch—an activity I had to stop doing because of Titus’s men patrolling the yard. I’ve since decided to sneak out and go swimming, usually late at night. A high privacy fence surrounds that whole area, so unless he’s got snipers on the roof, I can swim naked if I want to without being disturbed.

This is a good substitute, though. Luka’s sitting next to me in the backseat while Ignat drives us in silence. The smile on his face is priceless as we pass by several little stores and restaurants. The one that he always looks for is the ice cream kiosk that’s in walking distance of the park. He never asks to go to it, though. I wish I could take him.

The car pulls up to the park entrance and Ignat looks at me through the rearview. “Two hours,” he says. “Not a minute more.”

He says that every time and every time, I just answer, “Understood.”

Luka and I exit the car and start the walk down the path toward the playground a little ways away. Luka skips next to me, knowing better than to go darting off before we get there.

“What’s first today?” I ask him.

He’s looking at the collection of children playing on the jungle gym, his eyes scanning each face.

“Luka?”

He looks up at me, then shrugs. “I don’t know. Probably the slide.”

He goes back to looking around the grounds, which he keeps doing until we actually get there. Then his face brights suddenly as he waves to someone. I look to see a little girl with bouncy brown pigtails wave back.

How cute! “Who’s that?”

“Huh?” he says, then, “Nobody. Just a friend. Can I go?”

“Go on,” I tell him, and he runs off to play. I wander over to the nearest bench and sit down, pulling one of the books from my room out of my back pocket. This one’s a romance novel, which I’m not normally into, but beggars can hardly be choosers.

I read and listen out for Luka’s voice. As long as I can hear him chattering away and laughing, I know he’s good, but every so often, I lift my eyes to track where he’s gone. He’s a good kid. I never see him drift too far away from me during these park visits. I also take a moment to see if I can find Ignat. Right off, I don’t think I see anyone today. It’s like my own personal game of ‘Where’s Waldo?’. I don’t see Ignat today, though. No suits. No black clothing. No oddly tattooed men casually circling the park.

Maybe he gave Ignat the day off. Or maybe he’s just gotten better at hiding.

A father pushing a buggy walks up to the bench and sits down next to me, so I turn my attention back to my book. This happens from time to time and usually, they try to strike up a conversation. The mothers only do it sometimes, but the men like to talk all the time. It’s annoying…

Casually, my eye glances at the buggy and I immediately notice that it’s empty. What the hell…?

“Sofia,” the man next to me says in a low, restrained tone. I go to look at him and he says, “Don’t. Just go back to reading. Pretend I’m not talking to you.”