10. Chapter 10
V iktor
She is adorable.
She wears the clothes I gave her like… well, like Daddy’s girl should.
It’s the full little girl package and what I usually do when I have to spank more than twice on any given day.
Her hair is pulled back in a single ponytail.
I haven’t pulled it yet, but my hand itches for her to give me a reason.
I’ve put little girl panties on her, and she hates it, mortified I made her go out like this.
So long as she’s careful how she moves, the little ruffles on her bottom don’t even show, but she’s still self-conscious.
Her short-sleeve t-shirt is white, and her dress is a denim mini-jumper with straps that come up over her shoulders and buckle onto the chest bib and a skirt that ends mid-thigh.
The pockets, bib, and skirt hem are decorated in cute little dinosaurs.
Her face is as red as a beet as she follows me through my favorite casino on the Strip to a steak restaurant I like.
A little hand taps my elbow, tugging slightly at my jacket to catch my attention.
“Yes, Princess?”
“Can we please go back to the car? Please?”
“We haven’t eaten yet.”
“Yes, but I don’t want anyone to see... to see...” She’s tugging at the back of her skirt, darting nervous looks all around.
“To see you in your ruffled panties with your naughty bottom still pink from all your spankings today?” I supply, loving how guilty she looks when her eyes snap back to mine. Her blush deepens. “What happens when naughty little girls disobey Daddy, then run away?”
She looks desperately at the floor so she wouldn’t have to see the mocking sternness in my expression.
I love her mannerisms. Everything she does—from her frustrated huff to the slight bounce as she only just stops herself from stomping her foot—is everything I hunger for in the women I choose to keep.
Catching her chin, I make her meet my eyes. She doesn’t fight it, but she’s beyond embarrassed. Her hands are flat at her sides, smoothing the skirt down flat, hoping neither her panties nor her bright pink skin will show.
“What happens?” I press, and she gives in.
“I have to wear weird clothes in public.”
I’ve made my point, but I’m not about to let her get away with that kind of answer.
“Is that the way we’re supposed to answer?”
“Daddy,” she whimpers, a rush of real tears filling her eyes. “Please... please don’t make me say it... not here. Please?”
“How do we say it, Princess,” I repeat. “Remember, little girls who are naughty in public can expect to be taken into the grownup Daddies’ bathroom, and I don’t think you’d like what happens once we get there.”
Her breathing is faster than normal, her face flushed, and her fingers fidget non-stop with the hem of her skirt.
“No, Daddy,” she yields in whisper-soft defeat. With a sigh, she dutifully repeats, “Very naughty little girls have to wear very little girl clothes until I’m sorry enough to change my behavior.”
“I know you were being playful, and I enjoyed it, but I don’t want to have to chase you down because you don’t feel like obeying.”
Shoulders slumping, she raises her gaze to mine, but before I can chuck her fondly under the chin, her gaze darts past me, and her eyes grow huge.
I snap around, already grabbing her arm to shove her safely behind me, even before I spot Alviero stalking through the busy casino straight for us.
My joking mood vanishes, as does the casino noise all around us.
Suddenly, the scars on Clara are very much on my mind, as well as every derogatory thing he called her on our last phone call.
To walk up to me now is not the smartest choice he’s made today, but Alviero keeps coming.
With a manilla envelope in his hand and hell in his dark eyes, he walks right up to stand in front of me—a little too close, breathing a little too hard.
I’m not impressed. He’s lost this round. I own his ass.
Clara’s small hands clutch my back. I can feel her shaking, but she has nothing to be afraid of. Alviero won’t so much as put a finger on her. If he tries, I’ll beat him down to nothing right here in the middle of the casino.
Alviero doesn’t even try. He barely looks at her. All his animosity is reserved for me as he slaps the manilla envelope against my chest. I barely catch it before he lets go and drops it.
“And this is?” I ask.
“What you asked for,” he growls through clenched teeth. “The shares I own in the Crown transferred to my daughter in her name. You’re out of your mind if you think I’ll leave her with you. You’re not married to her. You’ve got no say—”
Wordlessly, I hold up my hand, showing him the wedding ring. Clara wears one as well. Getting married by Elvis in a little white chapel is by far more memorable than the canned vows we were forced to repeat. I don’t know about my now legally wedded wife, but I don’t remember a word of it.
“That isn’t real.” Alviero is turning colors, his face darkening into an ugly ruddy red.
“Actually, it is,” I inform him. “Admittedly, the license was a little more expensive than I thought, especially since I got it without her present and before she willingly agreed to make me the happiest man on earth. But it’s her signature on the certificate, and we both said I do in front of a legitimately ordained Elvis impersonator.
I’ve lived here my whole life, and now I can say I’ve had the complete Vegas experience. ”
“I promised her to Miguel! They invested money in the casino in exchange for her!”
“So did I. You accepted my terms, took my down payment, shook my hands, and immediately made another deal—”
“A better deal!” he spat.
“With Morales. That’s not how business works.”
“I’ll get your money back to you by—”
“I won’t accept it. I was precise in the terms I laid out for you. Now,”—I look at my watch—“I’m going to read the contract, and if it’s not everything I asked for, in nine minutes, you’ll be irrevocably fucked.”
I start to open the envelope, but Pisani yanks it from me, spitting as he snaps, “Don’t think I don’t know you’ll run it through her, no matter what name I put it under. I should put it under your name!”
“That’s not what I told you to do.”
“I could give two shits what you tell me to do.” He gets in my face.
I’m taller, but he’s rounder. I’m already thinking through what it’ll take to knock him to the floor when I finally decide I’ve had enough and grab him by his double chins. I’m not there yet, and my tone is perfectly calm.
“Then you’ll die. With all of your shit still accounted for.” I wave what I already know will be an incorrect contract back at him. “Did you think you were going to walk in here and just take her back again? Clara is mine. She’ll never set foot in your home again.”
“I’ll get it annulled.”
“You’ll be dead before morning. Your own partners and now the Moraleses will make sure of that.
” I open the envelope and pull out the contract.
Sure enough, it’s all made out to Clara Pisani, which isn’t really that big a deal.
We have a paper trail and an Elvis impersonator to stand witness for us.
It won’t be hard to show in a court of law that her name was lawfully changed, and the assets awarded in this contract are entirely hers.
Unfortunately, he didn’t follow the rest of my terms. He’d given Clara a ruling fifty-one percent of the casino. This morning when we all woke up, he owned fifty-nine percent. He also specified this contract to be invalid if she ever marries me.
I look at my watch. “I hope you have another contract under your coat because you have less than five minutes before you commit ‘suicide.’”
“You son of a bitch, you—”
Dropping the contract at his feet, I take Clara’s arm and lead her into the restaurant. She keeps looking up at me as I push her to walk ahead, staying firmly planted between her and her father.
Pisani grabs the shoulder of my jacket, yanking me back. I snap around, my fists ready, and my bodyguards—as well as his—push through the oblivious crowd to reach us. Something in my face must have shown he was stepping on my last nerve.
Alviero backs up slowly as Clara’s little hands grip the back of my jacket. I can hear her whispering. “Daddy, don’t! Please don’t! He’ll hurt you, too!”
It’s almost insulting, but I forgive her. I’ve only shown her the kind, gentle, protective Daddy. She has no idea what I’m capable of. I hope she never knows.
His face is deep red, but he’s smirking, his unblinking stare promising murder.
I can’t help smirking back. I’ll have him on the floor, choking on his own blood and teeth before he realizes he’s been hit.
No one reaches the top in my world without earning it.
Being born into a family doesn’t mean shit anymore.
I worked my way up the bloody ladder, like everybody else.
I’ve done things to earn the metaphorical crown I wear.
After the scars he’s put on her, if I start hitting him, I won’t stop.
Does he see that determination in my eyes?
He backs away slowly, reaching into his coat to throw another envelope on the floor between us, and spits on it before turning away.
He dodges my bodyguards and settles into stride with his own.
My eyes follow until they disappear into the crowd of obsessed gamblers focused on their brightly lit slot machines.
They’re heading toward the street exit. Leaving my men to watch after them, I bend down to pick up the second contract.
This one spells out exactly what I’d specified.
She has all his shares in the business in her married name, no contingencies, and nothing revoking her ownership should he die.
Yeah. He can’t plot his way out of a paper bag.
Folding it in half lengthwise, I tuck the contract in my coat. I’ll get Clara to sign it after dinner when the ugliness of this business melts from her mind, and she feels safe and secure with me once more.