Page 64 of Cinderella and the Daddy

"No, it's just... not very you."

His resume their gentle ministrations. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think."

But I do know him. I know he's capable of violence that would make most people sick. I know he's killed men with his bare hands and slept peacefully afterward. I also know he reads bedtime stories and makes pancakes shaped like dinosaurs on Saturday mornings.

The gentleness now, though—this feels different. Like I'm something precious that needs protecting.

Does he know?

Maybe he's figured it out. Maybe all those little changes I thought I was hiding so well are more obvious than I realized.

I have to tell him.

Soon.

18

LUKA

Iwake with a start.

My hand moves across the sheets automatically, seeking the warmth of Cindy's body, but finds only empty space.

I check the time. It’s just after nine.

“Fuck.”

I didn’t mean to fall asleep. But after being up all night worrying about her and then having her in my arms…

I throw off the blankets and pull on a pair of sweats. I can’t explain it, but I know she’s gone. I can feel her absence.

I head downstairs, hoping to find her in the kitchen making Leo breakfast or stealing a few minutes alone with her coffee before the day's chaos begins. But the feeling, low in my gut, won't settle. It’s a primitive alarm system that's kept me alive.

Leo sits at the kitchen island, working his way through a bowl of cereal while watching some show about talking animals on his tablet.

"Morning, kiddo," I say, ruffling his hair as I pass. "Where's Cindy?"

"Dunno." He doesn't look up from his screen. "Viktor said she went out early."

Viktor. My head of security wouldn't let Cindy leave the compound without clearance, not after yesterday's lockdown order. I find him in the security office, monitoring feeds from his wall of screens, a cup of coffee growing cold at his elbow.

"Where's Cindy?" I ask without preamble.

He glances up from the monitors, his scarred face impassive. "Went with Grigori about an hour ago. Something about needing to pick up medicine."

Medicine.

The word sits wrong in my mouth, though I can't immediately put my finger on why. "What kind of medicine?"

"Didn't say. Women's stuff, maybe?" Viktor shrugs, his attention already drifting back to the screens. "Grigori's got her. She's fine."

I want to press for more details, but my phone buzzes with an incoming text. The number belongs to Tony, one of my perimeter security guys.

He’s good at what he does. Former Italian mob enforcer. When his organization was dismantled by the FBI, I brought him on. He’s easily one of my top five.

I check the text.THE GARAGE.

I'm moving before the message fully registers. Tony meets me at the entrance, his usually composed expression tight with concern.