Page 37 of Beauty and the Daddy

"Uh, yeah." My eloquence, ladies and gentlemen. Give it a round of applause.

The little girl tugs at Luca's pants. "Is this her, Daddy? Is this your princess?"

My cheeks burn hot enough to fry an egg. Princess? What exactly has Luca been telling his daughter about me?

Luca clears his throat. "Sofia, this is Belle. Belle, this is my daughter, Sofia."

"Hi," Sofia says, giving me a shy smile. "You're pretty."

"Thanks, you too." I smile. She's a miniature version of Luca, except for her eyes. Those must have come from her mother.

My eyes sweep over to Luca.

He'd be terrifying if not for the fact he's carrying a pink backpack in one hand and a chewed-up tennis ball in the other.

The mental image of the Beast packing snacks and Band-Aids is like thinking of a tiger knitting.

My brain doesn't know where to file it.

"I didn't know you had a daughter," I whisper to him.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Belle," he whispers back, before clearing his throat.

"Here, Sofia." He sets the bag down.

Sofia grabs the backpack from Luca. "Thanks, Daddy."

"Anytime, baby."

Sofia lifts her backpack like a trophy and tugs on my robe.

"Do you want to see my room? It has a princess bed and Bruno sleeps with me sometimes even though Daddy says he's not supposed to."

I look at Luca, who gives a slight nod. "Sure," I tell Sofia. "I'd love to."

She grabs my hand with her tiny one and starts pulling me down the hall.

Bruno trots behind us, and I can feel Luca's eyes on my back as we go.

Sofia's room is like stepping into a different world—one with pink walls, glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, and stuffed animals everywhere.

"This is where I sleep," she says proudly, pointing to a canopy bed that does indeed look fit for a princess. "And this is where Bruno sleeps."

She points to a massive dog bed that Bruno immediately flops onto with a contented sigh.

"It's beautiful," I tell her, and I mean it.

There's something heartbreaking about this little pocket of childhood innocence tucked away in Luca Moretti's world of violence.

"Do you like dogs?" Sofia asks, scratching Bruno behind the ears.

"I'm more of a cat person," I admit. "I have a cat named Meatball."

Her eyes go wide. "Meatball? That's a funny name!"

"He's a funny cat."

"Is he coming to live here too?"