Page 52 of The Daddy’s Girl

“No, it does not.”

“I am grateful,” she persists, making me smile.

“I know you are.”

“But I do want more.”

I reach out a hand toward her, and my heart practically brightens up like a light bulb in my chest when she takes it. “What do you want, Trouble? Tell me your dreams.”

With a gentle squeeze, she replies, “I want to be a real fashion designer.”

“Then you should be one.”

“It’s not that easy,” she says with a chuckle.

“Dreams aren’t often easy, Amelia. That’s what makes them dreams. What do you need to do to become a designer?”

With a playfully exasperated look, she grins, shaking her head at me. But her hand never leaves mine as we continue our walk.

“Well, there is this incubator program I want to get into. It’s this thing where they mentor new designers.”

“You should apply,” I reply enthusiastically.

She hops up onto the curb, walking along the edge, wearing a mischievous grin. As she steps down, she turns that brilliant smile on me.

“I already did.”

Pride swells in my chest. “That’s my girl,” I reply, tugging her toward me and planting a kiss on the side of her head.

“But they want a portfolio and some sort of visual pitch.”

“What does that mean, visual pitch?”

“It means like a video or even like a fashion show of sorts.”

“So you should have a fashion show. You can use the club.”

I adore the way she lights up with excitement when something sparks her interest. I can see already the way the wheels are turning in her head. She bites her bottom lip and averts her gaze to something unfocused. She’s working up something brilliant, I can tell.

“You really think so?” she mumbles, but she doesn’t need my validation. Deep down, she already knows this could work.

Pulling her under my arm, I hold her against my chest. “Of course I do. You can do anything, Trouble.”

We stop at a crosswalk, and she turns to wrap her arms around my chest. “Will you help me?”

I’ll do anything for you.

Those are the words on my lips. The ones I definitely should not utter out loud.

Fuck it.

“I’ll do anything for you, Trouble.”

The proximity of her eyes to mine, her lips only inches away, and the soft sound of music playing in the distance are a recipe for disaster. We are frozen in place, and I’m afraid I’ve just terrified the poor girl.

What is wrong with me? I know I can be a little intense at times, and Amelia is used to it, but even I know I’ve overstepped. I’m her godfather. I should not be holding her like this and whispering such intimate, delicate things in the heat of the moment.

Something sparkles in the corner of my eye, and we both turn at the same time to see the Eiffel Tower glisten with flickering gold lights.