Chapter 15 Eddie
Eddie
The city rises around us like a concrete jungle as the Porsche weaves through traffic, sleek and silent except for the low hum of the engine.
Viktor drives with focused intensity, eyes scanning mirrors and side streets, but his hand rests on my knee now and then—a reassurance that keeps my nerves from fraying completely.
The familiar skyline feels both welcoming and threatening after days away: towering buildings that once meant opportunity now shadow us with memories of gunfire and chaos.
We pull up to Robbie's apartment building—a modest brick walk-up in a quiet neighborhood, the kind with potted plants on fire escapes and kids' bikes chained to railings.
Viktor parks in a side alley, out of sight from the main road.
He kills the engine, turns to me. "This is it. I'll be in contact later—text or call. But for now, you two stay here. No going out. Understand?"
I nod, throat tight. "Yeah. Be careful."
He leans in, cups my face, and we kiss—deep, urgent, like he's pouring all his unspoken promises into it. His lips are firm, tasting of coffee and resolve. When we break apart, his thumb brushes my cheek. "I will."
I walk up to the door, the buzzer sounds, and Robbie's voice crackles through the intercom. "Eddie? Oh my God, get up here!"
I turn and wave at Viktor as he revs the engine and drives away as Robbie appears. The Porsche disappears around the corner, and I'm left with a mix of relief and anxiety churning in my gut.
I take the stairs two at a time, heart pounding. And as soon as we enter the apartment, Robbie pulls me into a fierce hug. "You're alive! I was so worried—I thought... I don't know what I thought."
"I'm okay," I say, hugging back just as tight. "Really. It's a longggg story."
Robbie ushers me inside, locking the door behind us. His apartment is cozy chaos—art posters on the walls, stuffies on the couch, a faint scent of vanilla candles. "First things first," he says, leading me to the living room. "Little time. You look like you need it."
He’s already prepared… a pile of coloring pencils, markers, stacks of paper, even some washable paints and brushes on a protected coffee table.
And it’s not just art supplies. A bowl of my favorite candies—sour gummies, chocolate drops, licorice twists—sits beside a six-pack of juice boxes, strawberry and lime, my go-to flavor. I feel a rush of gratitude so strong it brings tears to my eyes.
"Robbie, you're the best," I say, my voice wobbling. "Thank you."
He squeezes my hand. "Change first. I have extras."
We head to his bedroom, where he pulls out matching rompers—his lavender with stars, mine mint green with little clouds. We strip down and slip into them, the soft fabric hugging like a comfort blanket.
No regular clothes, no worries—just pure Little mode.
Back in the living room, we flop onto the rug, Goldie joining us from my backpack. I grab a juice box, puncture the foil with the straw, and take a long sip while Robbie spreads out paper.
We start simple, using coloring sheets he printed—unicorns, castles, abstract patterns.
My pencil scratches across the page, filling in a rainbow mane, while Robbie dabs paint on his, blending blues and purples into a starry sky.
The candies disappear one by one—sour tang on my tongue, chocolate melting sweet.
"I've been so worried," Robbie says after a while, setting down his brush. "Your message. And then nothing. After you disappeared I called the gallery, but Milo was a mess, said there was a break-in or something. Police everywhere."
I pause mid-color, the pencil hovering. "It was... bad. A shooting. Viktor saved me, but now we're tangled in his world."
Robbie's eyes widen. “Viktor? The guy in the car?”
I nod, filling him in on the basics—gallery ambush, escape, the house upstate, the growing... whatever this is between us. He listens, painting forgotten, sucking on a juice box straw.
When I finish, he sets it down. "Can you trust him? Really? He sounds... dangerous."
And the truth is that internal doubts flicker inside me— the killing, the control, the warnings.
I know that I need to face the reality of who Viktor is and the kinds of things that he is capable of.
I’d be a fool not to. But I push them down.
"I think so. He's protected me. Cared for me.
I might even be... falling in love with him. "
Robbie's mouth drops open, then he squeals, tackling me in a hug. "Eddie! Oh my gosh!"
We roll on the rug, giggling like kids. "Details!" he demands, poking my side. "Spankings? Sexy times? Spill it all!"
I blush but share some, if not everything—some feels too raw, too new. "I'm still wrapping my head around it," I say, laughing as he pouts. " I just can't say it all yet."
In the excitement, my troubles fade.
The apartment feels safe, bubble-wrapped from the world. Robbie jumps up, a mischievous grin on his face. "Let's get changed and go play in the park! It's right across the street—frisbee, swings. Come on!"
Viktor's warning echoes—stay here—but the high of being with Robbie overrides it.
"Okay! Let's do it," I say, my heart thumping and my smile as wide as it has been in a long time.
We swap rompers for jeans and hoodies, grab a frisbee from his closet, and sneak out like teenagers.
The park is small but perfect—green grass, a playground with swings and a slide, trees rustling in the breeze.
No one around mid-afternoon. We run across the field, laughing, tossing the frisbee back and forth.
Mine sails wide and Robbie dives dramatically, catching it with a whoop. "Your turn!"
I chase after Robbie’s wild throws, wind whipping my hair, legs pumping. For minutes—maybe half an hour—it's pure joy.
No fear, no plans, just play.
Then I spot him.
A man on the bench across the park, dark coat, phone to his ear but eyes fixed on us. Not casual. Watching. My stomach drops.
"Robbie…look," I say. “But don’t make it obvious.”
He follows my gaze, frisbee forgotten. "Right. Okay. That’s… creepy. Let's go."
We bolt, hearts racing, back across the street, up the stairs. We burst into the apartment, slamming the door, breathless and giggling nervously.
But then we both freeze.
Viktor is there, inside the apartment. Waiting. His arms crossed, his face thunderous.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Viktor growls.
We stand there, caught, the park fun evaporating under his glare. Robbie squeezes my hand. I swallow hard. "We just... wanted to play."
His eyes narrow. "Play? I said stay inside. You disobeyed me, Eddie. And you got your friend involved in your disobedience too."
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
Robbie nods. "Me too."
“You will be,” Viktor says. “Both of you.”
I look across to Robbie, his cheeks flushed red. Is Viktor going to punish us both? I don’t have to wait long for my answer. Robbie gives Viktor his safeword quickly and before I know it, the pair of us have our jeans and briefs around our ankles as we bend over Robbie’s messy kitchen table.
“Six spanks each, hard ones,” Viktor says, opening Robbie’s kitchen cupboard and pulling out a large wooden spoon. “Six swats from this will make you both understand.”
“Yes, sir,” Robbie says, his usually rebellious nature nowhere to be seen.
“Yes, Daddy,” I add, knowing full well that my bare bottom is about to feel Viktor’s heat.
And with that, Viktor duly spanks both of our butts with the wooden spoon.
“Owwww!” I call out, my left cheeks wobbling as Viktor lands a perfectly placed swat. “Daddy! It stings!”
“As it should,” Viktor barks, wasting no time in landing a swat on Robbie’s round, supple butt cheek. “Now both of you hold still and let’s get this done.”
With that, Viktor delivers the remaining swats hard and fast, leaving Robbie and me both in no doubt that from here on out we need to take every order seriously no matter how much fun we might be having now that we’re reunited.
“I’ll get the cooling cream,” Robbie says, a hint of mischief in his voice as he casts a lustful eye at the prominent cock-shaped imprint at the front of Viktor’s trousers.
“I had to do it,” Viktor says to me, bringing me in close. “You both needed to be disciplined. But you know that with your friend, it was only business. I’m your Daddy, and only yours.”
I nod and rest my head against Viktor’s chest.
I believe him about that. But when it comes to the true extent of who he really is, and what that might mean for the rest of my life, I know that I’m going to need a whole lot more questions answered before I can truly trust that he might be my Forever Daddy…