Chapter 7
Holden
H e still wasn’t sure exactly why writing lines had caused her to melt down before, but after their trip to the bathroom she sat and wrote out all ten in her surprisingly neat handwriting. He was tempted to make a joke about how doctors were supposed to write in illegible chicken scratch, but thought better of it, worried it would cause another meltdown over getting booted from med school.
“Done!” she declared with triumph, shoving the pad away from her and beaming up at him with pride. “Can we go now?”
“After you finish your breakfast.” He nudged the plate closer to her. The toast was a risk, but over the past few days he’d done some research and everything he’d found said that she needed to be adding more of her ‘forbidden’ foods back into her diet.
Frankie eyed the plate warily, as if it were a snake that might rise up and strike at any moment. “I’ll eat the eggs but no toast.”
“Nope. We’re not negotiating your health, Francesca.” He wasn’t a man used to making compromises in the first place, and this was one area where he refused to budge. “You need something more than just eggs, especially since we’re going to be doing some manual labor today.”
Bottom lip trembling, she reached for the plate, pulling it closer. “Do you have any yogurt? The no-fat kind?”
“I’m sorry, baby, I don’t. But we can stop on the way home and pick up whatever you want.” It was the first time she’d asked for anything specific, which he took as a good sign. “Tell you what. If you can finish the eggs and one of the toast triangles, we’ll call it good.”
It felt a bit like cajoling one of his nieces to eat when they were feeling stubborn, but he was willing to do whatever it took at this point. Nodding, Frankie picked up a slice of toast and nibbled at the very tip. She glanced over at him, clearly looking for his approval, and his heart cracked in two at the hope shining in her eyes.
“Good girl. Is there enough butter on it or do you want more?”
She wrinkled her nose in response. “There’s too much butter already.”
How much had she been depriving herself that the tiny scraping of butter he’d put on the toast was ‘too much’? Swallowing his own snarky response, he smiled. “Sorry. Do you want me to make you another slice?”
“No. I’ll eat it.”
She only ate the half she’d promised him, and he resisted the urge to sigh. He’d hoped she would eat more on her own, but apparently they were in for a longer road than he’d realized. As soon as they got back home, she was going to make that call to her therapist she’d been putting off for far too long already.
For now, they needed to get to her storage unit. Picking up her mostly empty plate, he leaned down to press a kiss to her hair. “You did a very good job, baby. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to say that every time I eat something, you know.”
Considering how pink her cheeks always turned at his praise, he was pretty sure he actually did need to say that every time. Maybe that was the secret, helping her associate food with Daddy’s approval. Or not, but it didn’t seem like it could possibly hurt anything, either.
Without answering her, he cleaned up their plates and stacked them in the dishwasher. “All right, let’s head over to the storage unit. Do you need anything else from your unit other than some clothes?”
“No, not really. My laptop is in my car.”
Shit. Her car, which had been parked somewhere for days. Mentally kicking himself for not thinking of it sooner, he shifted gears a bit. “Where are your keys?”
“My purse.”
“Text me your car’s location, I’ll send one of my people to go pick it up.”
Frankie rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Or you could just drop me off and I’ll follow you back here.”
The thought of having her out of his sight for even a few minutes was enough to have panic clawing at his throat. “No. Easier to just have someone pick it up for us while we run our errands. Go get me your keys.”
Arms folded, she jerked her chin up, eyes blazing with defiance. “I don’t want anyone driving my car.”
God, he couldn’t wait for her to be healed enough for him to warm her bottom. His palm physically itched to remind her who was in charge. “This isn’t a discussion, Francesca.”
“Why not? It’s my car.”
Because you obviously can’t be trusted on your own. As soon as the thought popped into his mind, it was followed by a twist of guilt in his gut. Treating her like a felon was only going to breed resentment. More, it wasn’t fair to her. She’d fucked up, sure, but he couldn’t keep her by his side, watching her every move, no matter how much he wanted to do exactly that.
Still… he had plenty of reasons not to let her drive that had nothing to do with being an overbearing jackass. “You’re still recovering, baby. And the last thing I want is you passing out behind the wheel.”
“I’m not going to. I haven’t fainted once since I’ve been here, have I?”
“No, but you’ve also been asleep about seventy percent of that time.” When her eyes narrowed, he just barely resisted the urge to laugh at how adorable she was when she was trying to look intimidating. “Tell you what. Let me send Falcon to pick up your car and then this weekend we’ll go out driving for a bit. That way if you get tired or sick behind the wheel, I’ll be right there. Deal?”
Her expression slowly softened, though it never quite lost that defiant edge, until she finally sighed and nodded. “All right.”
Thank god. Fighting with her wasn’t exactly how he wanted to spend their morning. “Get me your keys, text me the location, and we’ll get on the road.”
Jumping up from the table, she stomped toward the stairs, and he allowed himself a small grin at her childish behavior. Obviously his babygirl was feeling a good bit better.
Which meant it was only a matter of time before he could have her over his knee, and then under him in bed, begging Daddy for release while he fucked them both to the edge of sanity.
He couldn’t fucking wait.
Frankie
“Bossy, hardheaded, overbearing, insufferable man,” she muttered to herself as she stomped up the stairs to his bedroom.
Okay, maybe it was nice to know he wanted her by his side. And that everything was being taken care of, without her having to lift a finger.
So why did she feel so fucking annoyed by it all of a sudden? At the hospital, even the first few days here at his house, all she’d felt was relieved that Daddy was there, handling all the details so she didn’t have to worry about anything.
Now, however, she just wanted… Shit. She wasn’t even sure what she wanted.
Her friends from the club would be able to help. Pulling her phone from her jeans pocket, she swiped open the big group chat and stared at the most recent messages. Lottie had sent an update letting everyone know Frankie was with Holden, safe and sound, but she hadn’t elaborated. Which was for the best, but that left it to Frankie to explain her disappearing act. And if she tried to explain, she’d have to tell them all about her ‘illness’ and how fucking weak she’d been.
Again.
Unwilling, or maybe just too damn cowardly to face that level of humiliation just then, she shoved her phone back in her pocket and went in search of her purse. Keys in hand, she headed back down the stairs. Holden was waiting for her at the bottom of the steps, and when he held his hand out, she rolled her eyes before dropping her keys into his outstretched palm.
“I still say I’m fine to drive.”
Sliding a hand around the back of her neck, he squeezed, just hard enough to have her heart leaping into her throat as she looked up into those serious brown eyes.
“Who makes the rules, little girl?”
How easily she slipped into that role, at least with him. All it took was one touch, one look to bring her to heel. It always embarrassed her a bit in the aftermath, but in the moment all she knew was him, and the submission he demanded.
“You do, Daddy.”
“Damn straight. And do I bend on rules when it comes to your safety, physical, mental, or otherwise?”
“No, Daddy.”
“No, I absolutely do not. So that’s the last argument I want to hear about it. Am I understood, Francesca?”
“Yes, Sir.”
This wasn’t news to her. She’d learned this lesson the hard way once before, and it had sent her in such a downward spiral she’d cut things off completely.
And that little voice lingered in the back of her mind. The one that whispered she still wasn’t good enough, smart enough, submissive enough for him. That she didn’t deserve the love and care he was pouring into her right now.
If she was being honest with herself, the voice was probably right. He’d realize it eventually, and then she’d have no choice but to go crawling back to her parents.
Just a week. Maybe two. All she needed was enough time to get her eating habits back under control and come up with a good explanation for why she’d dropped out of med school before she went home again.
Or maybe she’d just move instead. She had plenty of money in the trust fund her grandmother had left her, the one she’d had access to since she’d turned twenty-one. She could move across the country, start a new life free from her parents and their expectations. Somewhere Holden Prescott could never find her. Then he’d have to move on, find a real submissive, someone worthy of a Daddy like him.
Soon. A month tops. And by then, he’d be so sick of her he’d probably put her on a damn plane himself.