Page 46 of Cinderella and the Daddy

But that's exactly what they want. They want me unhinged and making mistakes. They want me to act on emotion instead of strategy.

I force myself to breathe. I have to analyze this like any other attack. This isn’t random. Someone is trying to tell me something, and I need to understand the message before I can craft a response.

"Clear the room," I order, my voice deadly quiet. "Every inch. I want to know what they touched, what they took, what they left behind."

My men scatter like roaches when the lights come on. They’re all grateful to have something concrete to do. But I remain standing in front of that wall, staring at her name written in blood.

The message isn't about Cindy—not really. It's about me. About what they think they can use to control me, to make me vulnerable. They've identified my weakness and decided to exploit it.

The problem is, they're not wrong.

Somewhere between watching her care for Leo and feeling her body against mine in the darkness, Cindy stopped being just a captive or even just a woman I desire. She's become something more dangerous than any weapon my enemies could turn against me.

She's become someone I can't afford to lose.

My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number:We know where she sleeps.

I'm moving before the words fully register, barking orders to Viktor as I stride toward the exit. "Lock this place down. No one gets in or out until the cleaners are done. And find out who knew Tommy was working tonight."

The drive home is a blur of speed and rage. Worst-case scenarios play through my head. They could already be there. Could have taken her while I was standing in that warehouse staring at her name written in blood. Could have?—

No.

I cut off that line of thinking before it could take root. Fear makes you stupid, makes you reckless. And right now, I need to be smarter than I've ever been.

She’s under guard. No way anyone is getting in.

The compound looks normal as I pull through the gates. The guards are in position. Everything is exactly as it should be. But I don't relax until I've checked the security feeds and confirmed that all sensors are green.

She's safe. For now.

I find her in my bedroom, curled up on her side, brown hair spilled across the pillow like silk. In sleep, she always looks younger and more vulnerable than the woman who challenges me with every breath. The sight of her does something to the knot of tension in my chest.

But it doesn't make me feel safer. If anything, it makes the threat more real. Because now I know exactly what I stand to lose.

I wake her gently, my hand on her shoulder, mindful that startling someone who's been through what she has could have unpredictable results.

"Cindy. Wake up."

Her eyes open immediately, alert in a way that speaks of too many nights sleeping with one ear open. She takes in my expression and the tension in my posture and sits up without hesitation.

"What's wrong?"

Instead of answering, I move to the safe hidden behind the bedroom's false wall. My fingers work the combination from memory. I withdraw one of my backup pieces—a compact Sig Sauer that's reliable and easy to handle. Not my first choice for serious work, but perfect for someone with smaller hands.

I turn back to find her watching me with those intelligent green eyes.

"Come here," I say.

She climbs off the bed. I move behind her and place the gun in her right hand, wrapping her fingers around the grip. My body cages hers, my chest against her back, my arms bracketing her as I guide her through the basics.

"Safety is here," I murmur into her ear, my thumb covering hers as I show her the mechanism. "Thumb forward, both hands on the grip. Don't aim—point. Like you're pointing your finger at something you want to touch."

Her breathing is quick at first, adrenaline and fear making her hands shake slightly. But as I talk her through it—stance, sight picture, trigger control—she begins to calm.

"The recoil will surprise you the first time," I continue, my lips barely an inch from her ear. "Don't fight it. Let it happen, then get back on target."

"Luka." Her voice is quiet and controlled. "What happened?"