12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
MADDOX
I tried to swallow my disappointment down. Not that I blamed Clare. It would take a lot of time for her to learn to trust me, so leaving her to get showered and dressed was a good…shit. I hadn’t gotten her any clothes out, and knowing Clare, she wouldn’t just help herself. I grabbed her clean underwear from the dryer, an outfit from the playroom, and took the stairs three at a time. The shower was still going, so she was in the bathroom, but I still knocked at the door. No answer so I opened it. The bathroom door was closed, and she might not hear me over the noise of the shower, but I needed to warn her I was in here.
“I’ve just brought up your bra and panties, Clare. I washed and dried them last night.” I went to the bedroom closet and smiled at my favorite outfit I’d brought upstairs. Simple black leggings I knew she favored, a yellow tee, and a cozy black sweater with bright yellow daisies all over it.
My arms full of daisies, I laid everything out for her, then went to the bathroom door. “Clare, I left you some clothes out,” I shouted. No response. I was glad she was comfortable enough to take a long shower, and I took a step away from the door.
Then I stopped.
And I registered the uncomfortable feeling in my gut. The one that had kept me alive so many times. I turned and strode to the door, opening it a fraction, ready for steam to billow out because I didn’t hear the fan, just the water. And no steam. “Clare? Are you okay?”
No answer.
“Clare?”
Fuck it. She could be sick, so I pushed the door open and was into the room, over to the shower, and turning off the water in an instant. The freezing cold water.
Clare was crouched in the corner, knees drawn up, head bowed. I could see her shivering and thanked everything holy to see that because when the shivering stopped you knew hypothermia had set in. I grabbed two huge towels and simply picked her up.
“Bad girl,” she whispered.
My blood ran colder than the shower at her words. "No, baby, no. You're not bad. You're my good girl," I said firmly, wrapping the towels around her shivering form. "My very good, brave girl."
Her skin was like ice, her lips tinged with blue. I carried her quickly to the bed, grabbing more blankets from the closet. "Clare, princess," I urged, rubbing her arms through the towels, trying to generate warmth.
"Bad girls get cold showers," she whispered, her voice distant and hollow. "Daddy says."
"No, princess," I said firmly, continuing to dry her gently but thoroughly. "That man was not your Daddy. He was a monster who hurt you. Real Daddies keep their Little ones warm and safe."
I wrapped her in the comforter, then sat beside her on the bed, pulling her against my chest. Her shivering was violent now, which was actually a good sign—her body was fighting to warm itself. I pulled her in even closer, using my body to heat her as best I could.
“Bad girl,” she whispered again.
“Clare, I need you to look at me," I said, gently tilting her face up. Her eyes were unfocused, lost somewhere in the past. "You're safe now. You're at my house, with me. No one is going to hurt you here."
Slowly, awareness seemed to return to her eyes. "Maddox?" she whispered uncertainly.
"That's right, princess. I'm here."
Tears filled her eyes.
"Oh God," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. One minute I was showering and the next..."
"Shh," I soothed, pulling her closer as her tears fell. "You don't need to apologize. You had a flashback. It happens, and it's not your fault."
Her whole body trembled against mine, and I wasn't sure if it was from the cold or the emotional aftermath. Probably both. I continued to rub her back and arms through the blanket, trying to warm her.
"I could hear him in my head, telling me bad girls get cold showers. And I felt...I felt like I deserved it."
My heart broke at her words, but I kept my voice steady. "Clare, listen to me. You didn't deserve that. Not then, not now, not ever. What he did to you was abuse, pure and simple."
She nodded against my chest, but I could tell she didn't fully believe me.
"How about we get you dressed in some warm clothes?" I suggested gently. "I've laid some out for you."
Clare nodded again, and I helped her to sit up, keeping the blanket wrapped around her. "Can you manage, or would you like some help?" I asked, careful to give her the choice.
She raised her big, tear-laden eyes to me. “I need help.”
I wasn’t sure if that was a simple answer or a plea for much more. I knew Anna wouldn’t break Clare’s confidence, but she needed to know what had happened. Slowly and carefully, I dried every part of Clare. Every finger, every toe. I was well aware of how much trust this took and shut my own feelings about touching her beautiful body right down.
I dressed her like she was the most precious thing in the world, which she was. I carefully brushed and blow-dried her gorgeous hair. When I was done, I gathered her close again, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"Better?" I asked softly. She nodded, her trembling finally subsiding. "How about some hot tea to warm you from the inside?"
"Okay," she agreed quietly.
I helped her downstairs to the kitchen, settling her at the island with a thick blanket around her shoulders. As I prepared the tea, I kept glancing at her, worried about her withdrawn state.
"Clare," I said gently as I placed the steaming mug in front of her. "I think it might be a good idea to call Anna. Would that be okay?"
She looked up, her eyes still haunted. "I already did. Before...before the shower."
"Oh?" I tried to keep my voice neutral, though I was surprised. "What did she say?"
Clare wrapped her hands around the mug, absorbing its warmth. "She said I don't need her permission to be happy. That I need to accept that without the bad things, I would never have met you."
I reached across the counter, covering one of her hands with mine. "She's right about that last part. Though I wish we could have met under different circumstances."
"Me too," she whispered and looked up at me. “I’m sorry.”
So was I. "You have nothing to apologize for, Clare. I understand this is all new and scary for you."
"That's just it," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "I don't want it to be scary anymore. I want...I want to try. To let you take care of me. To be my...my Daddy all the time.”
Holy fuck.
I wasn’t expecting that. It took me a few seconds but then I saw her trembling and knew how much courage that had taken. I was going to look after her. Show her how pleased I was, and make sure she never regretted her decision. I stepped closer, opening my arms in invitation. "Come here, princess," I said softly.
Clare hesitated for just a second before hopping off the stool and stepping into my embrace. I held her gently, one hand cradling the back of her head.
"I'm so proud of you," I murmured. "Thank you for trusting me with this."
I felt her relax slightly in my arms, her breath hitching. "I'm scared," she whispered.
"I know, sweetheart. And that's okay. We'll take this as slow as you need. There's no rush."
I pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes. "We’re going to start with a breakfast you actually eat, then enjoy some playtime. Nothing intense, just some coloring or maybe watching a movie."
Clare nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "That sounds nice."
"Good girl," I said warmly, delighting in the way her cheeks flushed at the praise. "Now, how about you sit at the table while Daddy finishes making you some pancakes?"
Her eyes lit up a little as Clare settled at the table, I turned back to the coffee machine, my mind whirling. I’d referred to myself as Daddy and Clare hadn’t reacted. Because saying she wanted something and being faced with the reality of it were completely different.
I finished making my coffee and glanced over at Clare. She was sitting quietly at the table, fidgeting slightly with the hem of her sweater. I could see the nervousness in her posture, but also a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. I thought she might balk when I mentioned the playroom, but she hadn’t. It was important for her to see that room as a sanctuary. Her safe space. Not somewhere threatening, so we’d start in there and see where we went. As I whipped up the pancakes I planned our day.
Gideon would be at home with Abby later, so they might even enjoy a playdate.
"Here we go, princess," I said softly, setting a plate in front of her. "I made some with chocolate chips, just for you."
Clare's eyes widened slightly. "Thank you," she murmured.
I sat down next to her, my own plate in front of me. "Would you like some syrup?" I asked, holding up the bottle.
She nodded shyly. "Yes, please."
I drizzled a bit of syrup over her pancakes, then cut them into small, manageable bites. Part of me wondered if this was too much too soon, but I wanted to ease her into being cared for.
I picked up her fork and speared a bite-size piece, then held it out. "There you go, sweetheart. Eat up now."
Clare hesitated for just a moment before opening her mouth. As she took her first bite, a small smile spread across her face.
"Good?" I asked, unable to keep the affection out of my voice. I chose another piece for her.
She nodded, taking another bite. "Very good. Thank you, Da—" she cut herself off, blushing furiously.
"It's okay," I said gently. “You can call me anything you like.” But I knew she wanted to call me Daddy.
Clare nodded, taking another bite of pancake. I fed myself some while she was chewing. She ate in silence for a few minutes, and I could see her relaxing bit by bit.
"So," I said after she'd finished eating, and was cradling her hot tea, "what would you like to do today, princess? We could color or watch a movie in the playroom, or if you're feeling up to it, we could go to the park."
Clare bit her lip, considering. "I’m not sure."
I smiled warmly. " Why don't you go pick out a coloring book or a puzzle from the playroom while I clean up here?" I’d wait and see if she brought it back or lingered, and if so, I’d join her in there.
As Clare headed upstairs, I quickly tidied the kitchen, my mind racing with plans. I wanted to make this day special for her, to show her how wonderful being Little could be. My phone rang just before I could go see what she was doing and, seeing Gideon’s name, I swiped it up.
“Jeremy Blakeny just landed at a private airstrip outside of Orlando.”
I hissed in a breath. “On his own?”
“No sign of anyone but his secretary, and Jonathan Rice is still in Phoenix. Eric can’t find any recent communication between them.”
“Which doesn’t mean they couldn’t have used a third party.”
Gideon grunted his acknowledgement. “Eric’s keeping an eye on them.” He paused. “Should we tell Clare or her brother?”
“Give me today to think on that. She’s here for the moment, but I don’t like the thought of her going home if he’s in the US.”
“Speak to you later,” Gideon said and hung up.
I headed to the playroom, but hearing a soft noise I paused outside and listened. It was Clare. She was humming softly, and as I looked in, I saw she was sitting cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the painting area, two huge pads spread out in front of her, and she had a plain pencil in her hand. I walked into the room, but she was concentrating so hard she might not have been aware of me. I glanced at the paper and sucked in a breath. It was a drawing of a doll, the sort of doll a Little girl might love, but the doll was naked and stood up staring with blank eyes through the bars of a cage.
I froze, my heart clenching at the haunting image Clare was creating. The doll's blank eyes seemed to stare right through me, a chilling reminder of what Clare had endured.
I debated whether to interrupt her or not. She seemed almost in a trance as she worked, her hand moving with surprising skill across the paper. Finally, I decided to make my presence known, clearing my throat softly.
Clare startled, her head snapping up. When she saw me, her cheeks flushed, and she quickly tried to cover the drawing.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't know why I drew that."
I moved closer, sitting down beside her on the floor. "You have nothing to apologize for, princess," I said gently. "Sometimes our minds need to process things in different ways. Drawing can be very therapeutic."
Clare bit her lip, her eyes downcast. "It's disturbing though, isn't it?"
"It's honest," I replied. "And sometimes honesty isn't pretty. But it's always valuable."
I carefully reached out, my hand hovering over the drawing. "May I?"
After a moment's hesitation, Clare nodded, moving her hand away so I could see the full image. The detail was remarkable—the doll's porcelain-like skin, the intricate bars of the cage, even the shadows cast across the floor. It was haunting but undeniably powerful.
"You're very talented," I said softly.
“I sometimes wish I wasn’t,” she said softly, then looked up at me, the moisture in her eyes making them glitter. “Everyone thinks the first time I met him was at the charity auction.” No guesses as to who she meant by him . “But he came to my college.”
“What?” Why didn’t we know this?
“It was the end of year exhibition of our art. He came with the woman from the charity to choose which pieces they would use for the auction.” She wet her lips. “It wasn’t just our school involved, so they couldn’t take them all. All of mine were chosen, and at the auction he bought every one. Afterwards, I went to thank him. He was friendly and gave me six complimentary tickets for the top tier in his club. It was only after that first time I went back on my own to the club to see him.”
She looked down at her sketch then reached out and crumpled it in her fist. “He took everything away from me. Who I am. What I love. My courage. My passion.” Her voice broke, and I reached for her, so damn relieved when she let me gather her into my arms without fear.
I held Clare close, feeling her tears dampen my shirt as she cried against my chest. Her revelation had hit me hard. Blakeny had been targeting her for longer than we'd realized, grooming her carefully before making his move, and we needed to look into the charity. Find out who this woman was.
"He didn't take everything, princess," I whispered, stroking her hair gently. "You're still here. Still fighting. Still creating art that speaks to your soul, even when it hurts."
Clare's sobs gradually quieted, though she remained nestled against me. "Sometimes I feel like I'll never be whole again," she admitted, her voice barely audible.
"Healing isn't about going back to who you were before," I said softly. "It's about finding who you are now, after everything you've been through. And I think that person is pretty amazing."
She pulled back slightly, looking up at me with tear-stained cheeks. "You really believe that?"
"With all my heart," I assured her. "Every day you choose to keep going, to try new things, to trust even a little bit—that's showing incredible strength, Clare."
She clung to me, her body trembling. I held her, rocking her gently, letting her recover. This wasn't the day I'd planned for us, but maybe it was the day she needed—a chance to release some of the pain she'd been carrying.
When her tears finally subsided, I gently wiped her cheeks with my thumbs, then produced a tissue and held it to her nose. And, miracle of miracles, she just blew and let me take care of her. Instinctually. For the first time I felt a little hope. "How about we do something different?" I suggested softly. "Something just for fun."
Clare looked up at me, her eyes red-rimmed but curious. "Like what?"
I smiled. "How about we build a fort? We can use blankets and pillows, make it super cozy. Then we can watch a movie inside it, or read, or just talk."
A small smile tugged at her lips. "A fort?"
"The best fort ever," I promised. "What do you say, princess? Want to help Daddy build a fort?"
Her smile grew a little wider. "Yes...Daddy," she said softly, the word still new on her tongue but sounding so right.
Together, we gathered blankets, sheets, and pillows from around the house. I moved the coffee table and rearranged the furniture in the living room to create a frame for our fort, and as we built it, I could see Clare becoming more confident, almost as if she was finally allowing herself to have fun.
But that wasn’t all. Her Little finally started peeking out. Her voice rose a little. She started pulling at her hair as if it was in her way and while her long hair was so damn gorgeous, and even though I got hard just thinking about it spread all over my pillow, I could see it was annoying her.
"Would you like Daddy to put your hair up for you, princess?" I asked gently, noticing her frustration.
Clare looked up, surprise flickering across her face. "You know how to do that?"
I smiled. "I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Wait here."
I quickly retrieved a hairbrush and some hair ties from the bathroom. When I returned, I settled behind Clare on the floor.
"Let Daddy brush your hair first, okay?" I said softly, beginning to run the brush through her long locks.
Clare tensed for just a moment before relaxing into my touch. As I gently worked through the tangles, I could feel her melting against me, her shoulders dropping as tension left her body.
"That feels nice, Daddy," she murmured, her voice taking on that higher, softer quality that I was coming to recognize as her Little voice.
"I'm glad, princess," I replied, carefully gathering her hair into a high ponytail. "There we go. All done."
Clare reached up to touch her hair, a small smile playing on her lips. "Thank you, Daddy."
My heart swelled at hearing her call me that so naturally. "You're welcome, sweetheart. Now, shall we finish our fort?"
We completed our creation, a sprawling structure of blankets and pillows that took up most of the living room. I strung some fairy lights inside to create a magical atmosphere.
"What do you think?" I asked as we moved inside.
Clare looked around in awe and without even thinking she crawled into my lap. I was so shocked it took me a minute to unglue my arms to bring them gently around her middle. She was sitting on my dick which was semi-hard, but she didn’t even seem to notice.
“I think this is a fairy castle,” she said in awe. “And you’re the prince and you saved me from the wicked sorcerer who kidnaps all the princesses in the land to give them to the evil king.”
She hummed again as if agreeing with herself, but she’d snagged my attention with evil king . It took no guesses to work out Blakeny was the sorcerer, but the king? Was that Rice? And what did Clare actually know?
Because at no time had we discussed Rice in front of her. Cautiously, because I didn’t want to burst this happy bubble she was in. “I will always save you,” I whispered. “My princess is always safe with me.
"Safe," she murmured, as if testing the word. "And you promise the sorcerer can’t get me?”
My arms tightened fractionally around her, my heart swelling with both pride and protectiveness. "I promise." I would protect her with my life. No one was going to hurt a hair on my princess’s head ever again.
We stayed like that for a while, nestled together in our blanket fort, the fairy lights casting a soft glow around us. Clare seemed content, occasionally tracing patterns on my arm with her fingertip.
"Are you hungry, sweetheart?" I asked eventually. "It's getting close to lunchtime."
Clare considered this, then nodded. "A little bit."
"How about some grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup? Would you like that?"
Her eyes lit up. "Yes, please! That's my favorite when it's rainy outside."
It was actually a beautiful sunny day, but I didn't comment on her association. "Grilled cheese sandwiches and soup it is, then. Do you want to help Daddy make lunch?"
Clare nodded eagerly, and we crawled out of our fort together. In the kitchen, I lifted her onto a counter stool and began gathering ingredients. I noticed how she watched my every move with fascination.
I glanced at her a couple of times and she seemed deep in thought. I set her to stirring the soup. I was going to have to ask her some questions and I was dreading it. But I knew how I wanted lunch to go, and that meant her actually eating, so I wasn’t asking anything until after that. I reached up into the cupboard I’d filled in the hope that one day I might have a Little girl of my own and plucked out a princess cup. “I don’t want my princess to burn herself if she accidentally spills, so I’m putting the lid on.” I didn’t wait for an answer, but her eyes grew round. I poured the soup in and went to fasten the lid when I noticed her adorable pout.
And the crossed arms.
I tilted my head in consideration and did my best not to laugh. “Why has my princess got a frowny face?”
She blew out such a long-suffering sigh it was all I could do to keep my face straight, but then she looked at the toasted cheese sandwich I’d cut up. I guessed what might be wrong, so I carried everything over the breakfast nook and went back to scoop Clare off the stool, loving it when she whispered “Daddy,” and her arms came around my neck.
“Let’s try this. How about you sit on my lap where you’re safe and we leave the lid off so you can dunk your sandwich, because everyone knows that’s the best way to eat it?”
I grinned back at her giggle and gave myself a mental pat on the back. Progress. I just hoped it wouldn’t all be wasted when I had to ask her about the evil king.