Page 48

"You okay?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that I could feel vibrating through his chest.
I nodded, suddenly shy despite what we'd just shared. "More than okay."
His fingers traced idle patterns on my skin, sending pleasant shivers through my still-sensitive body. "That wasn't... I didn't plan for this to happen," he admitted.
"I know," I said, turning to face him. "I wanted it. I still do."
His blue eyes studied me carefully. "No regrets?"
"None," I whispered, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw. "For the first time in days, I don't feel afraid."
Something complex flickered across his face—tenderness mixed with what might have been guilt. Before I could decipher it, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead.
"We should get cleaned up," he murmured. "And then talk."
My stomach tightened at those words. Talk. About what had just happened? About my behaving Little and calling him Daddy? About the fact that someone was still trying to kill me?
"Hey," Daddy said softly, tilting my chin up. "Stop overthinking. One step at a time."
I nodded, letting him help me to the bathroom. He was surprisingly gentle as he cleaned both of us up, his touch clinical but tender. When we returned to the bedroom, I expected awkwardness, but Daddy simply pulled back the covers and gestured for me to get in.
I slid between the sheets, watching as he moved around the room, collecting our scattered clothing. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants before joining me, his large body radiating heat as he settled beside me.
"So," he began carefully, "how are you feeling? Really?"
I considered the question, trying to sort through the tangle of emotions inside me. "Conflicted," I finally admitted. "Part of me is terrified about everything that's happened—the car, the man in your house, my godfather wanting me dead." I swallowed hard. "But another part of me feels... safe. With you."
Daddy's expression softened. "You are safe with me, Matty."
I stared at him. "But just for how long the contract lasts." Daddy's face changed, a shadow crossing his features as he sat up straighter against the headboard. He ran a hand through his hair, his expression suddenly grave.
"Matty," he said, his voice lower than before, "there's something I need to tell you about the contract. About why I agreed to marry you."
My stomach dropped. "Two million dollars is a lot of money."
"That's not it," he said quickly, reaching for my hand. "What I'm trying to say is that I had my own reasons for agreeing to this marriage. Reasons that had nothing to do with money."
I pulled the sheet higher, suddenly feeling exposed. "What reasons?"
Daddy took a deep breath. "Your godfather, Harold Coombes... I knew him before I ever heard about you."
"What?" I whispered, trying to process this information. "How?"
"Eight years ago, Coombes was involved in some shady real estate deals in my hometown," Daddy explained, his eyes never leaving mine. "My parents owned a small hardware store. It wasn't much, but it was their life's work, and it came with a huge lot they'd never been able to afford to develop. Coombes wanted that land."
I felt cold despite the warmth of the bed. "What happened?"
"When my parents refused to sell, things got ugly. There were 'accidents' at the store—broken windows, inventory damaged. Then a fire." His jaw tightened. "The insurance company claimed it was arson, implied my parents did it themselves. They lost everything."
"Daddy," I breathed, horror washing over me. "I'm so sorry."
"My father couldn't handle the shame, the whispers around town. He had a heart attack, but he never fought to survive. It was like he was crushed." Daddy's voice remained steady, but I could see the pain in his eyes. "A year after we buried my dad, my mom had a stroke and followed him."
I reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. "And you blame Harold."
"I know it was him," Daddy said firmly. "I just could never prove it. I was still in the army when my dad died."
Understanding dawned, sharp and painful. "But how did you know Ricky's ad referred to me..." then I huffed. "Digger."