Page 3 of Cinderella and the Daddy

To be honest, it’s kinda hot.

I blame the adrenaline for the heat pooling low in my belly. Or maybe it's the way his presence fills the garage, making the space feel smaller, more dangerous. My body is a traitor, responding to threats like they're promises.

"I have business with Charles," Luka says with just a hint of a Russian accent.

Okay, super hot.

"Yeah, well, he's busy." Drew crosses his arms, apparently having missed the memo about not poking apex predators with sticks. "You can make an appointment like everyone else. In the meantime, you deal with me."

Words pile up behind my teeth. Warnings, insults, twenty years of things I should have said. But survival is a language I learned young. Keep quiet. Stay small. Don't draw the attention of monsters. Except this monster already knows I'm here. I can feel his awareness like heat from a forge, even as he stares down Drew. Luka's head tilts, a predator's calculation. No telegraph, no wind-up. Just physics applied to flesh. His fist connects with Drew's nose in a wet symphony of cartilage and privilege. The sound is intimate, specific. I've heard bones break before, but never with such casual precision. This isn't rage. It's pest control. I flinch like I’m the one who just got popped.

Drew staggers backward, blood streaming from his nose, but he's too stupid to stay down. "You fucking?—"

The second hit drops him to his knees. Luka doesn't even wrinkle his suit.

“Stop.” The word escapes like a backfire, unexpected and too loud. I'm on my feet, hands raised like I'm approaching a wild animal. Which isn't wrong. “You've made your point.” My voice doesn't shake—a small miracle. “Drew's learned his lesson. Haven't you, Drew?” But I'm not looking at my foster brother. I'm watching the way Luka's shoulders tense and release, like he's deciding whether I'm worth listening to. Anna is pressed against the wall like she's trying to melt into it, but she doesn’t look afraid. Charles steps out, looks at Drew, then Luka.

I can see the fear in my foster dad’s face instantly.

Charles and I have a weird relationship. I don’t love him. At least, I don’t think so. But he’s the only father figure I’ve ever known.

Unfortunately, he’s been a really shitty father.

Drew manages to stand up and tries to throw a punch at Luka.

I almost laugh. A butterfly would be more effective.

Drew's punch misses by a mile. Luka's fist connects with his ribs. The sound is sickening, like a baseball bat hitting wet meat.

Drew doubles over, gasping, but Luka isn't done. Another punch to the stomach. Then one to the side of his head that makes Drew's knees buckle.

"Hey, stop!" I step forward, my hands still raised. "You made your point. He's done."

But Luka doesn't stop. Each hit is calculated. Like he's working through a checklist. Break ribs. Bruise kidneys. Rearrange face.

Drew staggers against the workbench, blood streaming from his mouth now, too. "Cindy, shut the fuck up and stay out of?—"

The words cut off when Luka's fist connects with his jaw.

"Never talk to your family like that," Luka says, his voice deadly quiet. He grabs Drew by the front of his polo shirt. "You understand?"

Drew makes a gurgling sound that might be an agreement.

I'm frozen, watching this stranger defend me more effectively than anyone ever has. It should terrify me. But I’m not afraid of the man.

Not really.

Fascinated is more accurate.

Anna is making little whimpering sounds that don’t sound convincing. She probably sees this guy as a piece of meat she wants to get ahold of.

Charles is slowly backing away.

I should run while the monster is distracted. I’m the only one with a clear path out of the garage.

But I don’t move. I stand there like an idiot.

Luka releases Drew's shirt and lets him crumple to the oil-stained concrete. Then those hazel eyes lock onto mine.