Page 5 of Daddy Dreadful (Forbidden Pleasures Island #5)

Chapter Four

Millie

Donovan cocks that damned eyebrow of his as if my question is completely absurd. “Yes. Our room.”

“No. Absolutely not. I want my own room.”

“Unfortunately for you, the hotel is completely booked.” His mouth curves up in a smile I can only describe as predatory. “Don’t worry, little one. I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

Huffing out a breath, I try to yank my hand from his again but he doesn’t budge. “Let me go, Donovan. I’m going to go ask about a room.”

He doesn’t release me. Instead, he steps closer, crowding me, his voice dropping to a low, lethal tone when he speaks. “Do you know what happens to naughty Little girls who throw tantrums in public, Camilla?”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.”

“Oh, but you are, little one. And you are about two seconds from getting hauled over my shoulder so I can carry you to our room and blister your defiant little bottom. Is that what you want?”

Even though I know there’s no way anyone heard him, humiliation still floods my face at his threat. “No, Sir.”

“Then I suggest you behave yourself and do as you’re told. Come with me.”

This time it’s him tugging on my hand and I fall in line, ducking my head and praying nobody can tell I was just very soundly put in my place by my boss as he guides me to our room.

Then again, if they notice, they probably won’t assume he’s my boss. Not while I’m dressed like a Little girl and holding his hand.

Ugh.

We take an elevator up so high it makes my head spin a bit. When we finally stop on our floor, Donovan leads me out of the box and down the hall to a corner room. Using an app on his phone, he opens the door and ushers me inside.

Into the most decadent room I have ever seen in my entire life.

“Oh.” A soft sigh slips past my lips as I turn in circles, taking everything in. “It’s… beautiful.”

“Yes. It is.”

I glance over, and my breath catches in my throat. Because he isn’t looking around the room as he says it.

He’s looking straight at me.

For a long moment, our gazes stay locked, and I wonder vaguely if he can hear how hard my heart is pounding. Because it sounds like a herd of elephants to me, stampeding through my veins.

Then he clears his throat and turns away and the moment is gone. “Feel free to look around. There are snacks in the mini fridge, but remember what I said about alcohol.”

“Those snacks are like a hundred dollars for a candy bar.”

“And?”

“ And I can’t afford that.”

Again he raises that goddamn eyebrow. “Who said anything about you paying? You’re here as my assistant, which means it’s my responsibility to care for you.”

There’s something about the way he says “care for you” that feels so much deeper than just a conversation about candy bars and nuts. But before I can quiz him on it, someone knocks at the door and he turns away to let the bellhop in with our bags.

He presses a bill into the bellhop’s hand, sending him on his way before he turns back to me. “We should get ready for the reception tonight. Do you need a bath?”

Embarrassment heats my cheeks, even though it’s only the two of us in this room. “I need a shower, yes.”

The corners of his lips dip down, and for a second I’m certain he’s going to press the issue. I can already hear his voice in my head, insisting that Little girls don’t take showers.

But then he nods, once, and a heaviness settles in my gut. “All right. Shower and change. Be ready to go in an hour.”

It isn’t until I’m in the shower, letting the steaming water run over my hair that I recognize the feeling in my stomach as disappointment.

Which is ridiculous. I am not disappointed that my boss, a man with ice in his veins, doesn’t want to give me a bath like a proper Daddy.

Am I?

Donovan

There is nothing I hate more in the world than small talk.

Unless, as I am learning, it’s making small talk while my Little girl flashes her bright smile at every man in the room.

They’re watching her, a curiosity I recognize all too well in their eyes, as she regales them with some story from her time in the emergency room at her hometown hospital in the middle of nowhere.

Her voice carries, especially when she’s happy, and right now she’s far happier than she has any right to be without me by her side.

What would they think, I wonder, if they knew she was wearing a diaper beneath her pretty blue dress? A diaper I put on her, after threatening to put a plug in her welted bottom if she insisted on wearing the Big girl panties she’d packed instead.

Part of me, the darkest, most vile part, is tempted to show them.

To bend her over and flip up her dress so everyone can see what a Little girl she actually is before I rip the diaper from her and spank her bottom red right here in the middle of the party for daring to so much as look at another man.

But we’re not on the island, so there are rules. Etiquette. Social niceties that threaten to strangle me as I sip at my scotch and pretend to listen to the conversation around me.

That conversation falls away as I watch one of the other doctors—one I don’t recognize—approach my Little girl, a glass of wine in his hand. And instead of brushing him off and making her apologies, she accepts the glass.

And sips.

“Excuse me. I need to take care of something.”

Without bothering to wait for a response from my colleagues, I step away from the table, my gaze locked on my naughty girl as she continues drinking and laughing with her entourage.

Several people try to stop me, to get my attention, but I ignore every one of them as I snake my way through the crowd.

“Gentlemen.” I greet the men surrounding her with a smile, and judging by the way their eyes widen, the violence bubbling in my veins comes through loud and clear. “Apologies for interrupting your evening, but I need to steal my assistant for a bit. If you’ll excuse us.”

Again without waiting for anyone to respond, I pluck the glass of wine from my Little girl’s hand and pass it off to one of the men. Beside me, Camilla smiles, far more apologetically than I managed to.

“Guess that’s my cue to go. It was lovely talking to you all tonight. Good luck with your talk tomorrow, Brennan!”

The man just to her right flashes her an affectionate smile. “Thank you, Millie. I hope to see you there.”

Millie. That’s what her friends call her, and the thought of her getting so familiar with this strange man so quickly has the temper I’m trying so valiantly to hold in check snapping at its leash.

It’s all I can do not to snarl at the man as I settle my hand at the small of Camilla’s back, urging her forward.

She follows my lead without argument, her bright smile remaining in place as we make our way through the lobby to the bank of elevators waiting to whisk us up to our room.

But beneath my hand, she’s practically vibrating, her spine stiff despite her otherwise outwardly calm appearance. Another time, I might be impressed by her restraint. Right now, however, I’m far more focused on how I’m going to punish the defiant little brat than her silence.

Silence that lasts right up until I close the hotel room door behind us. The second it clicks into place, she whirls on me, fury turning the blue of her eyes to thunderclouds as she jabs a finger into my chest.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

My own temper rises up, threatening to boil over, but I deliberately hold it back. “You are already in enough trouble right now, little girl. Do you really think swearing at me is a wise choice?”

“I think it’s the only choice when you interrupt my perfectly lovely evening for no goddamn reason!”

“No reason?” Now I do let some of my anger come through, let it coat my words with ice.

And I’m rewarded with the widening of her eyes as she takes a step backward, her hands moving behind her as if she might actually be able to protect her bottom from the punishment she so richly deserves.

“Tell me, Camilla. What rule did I give you about drinking alcohol while we are at this conference?”

The color drains from her face as the realization lands. “It-it would have been rude to refuse.”

“I see. So being polite to a complete stranger is more important than following my rules?”

God help her if she says yes. If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll show remorse for her actions rather than double down.

I almost hope she says yes, just so I have a reason to hurt her even more than I already have planned.

Something flickers in her eyes and if I didn’t know any better I could swear it was longing.

But then she jerks her chin up and she’s all fire and defiance again.

“Yes. Because it's a stupid fucking rule and I shouldn’t even have to follow your rules at all since we’re not on the island.

You can’t keep treating me like a Little girl, Donovan! ”

“I can, and I will. You are still my employee, until the end of this conference, and per your employment contract you have agreed to live as a Little girl and be subjected to my rules whenever you are working. So yes, I can treat you like a Little girl, Camilla. And I will continue to do so until the end of your notice.”

“There’s no way that contract is legally binding,” she grumbles, her gaze shifting to the side so she’s no longer looking me in the eye.

That will never do.

Gripping her chin, I force her gaze back to me. “Legally binding or not, those are the terms you agreed to. And if you want your severance pay, you will fulfill the negotiated terms of your notice.”

Fury blazes in her eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I absolutely would, my sweet little Camilla. Either you follow my rules, submit to my discipline as you have since your very first day in my office, or you forfeit every last penny of your severance.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I am, yes. But you have a decision to make. What’s it going to be, Ms. Hamilton? Are you going to fulfill your contract? Or would you rather tell me to fuck off and go live your best Big girl life significantly poorer?”

She doesn’t actually have a choice, of course. If she tells me to fuck off, if she refuses to work out her notice as previously agreed, I will simply take her back to the island a couple days early. No matter what she chooses right now, she will be mine at the end of it.

But I’m curious to see which option she chooses. And if I’m being completely honest with myself, some deep, dark part of me wants to watch her break. To see that awareness in her eyes as she realizes how well and truly trapped she is.

So I wait, still holding her chin between my fingers, forcing her gaze up to mine as I watch the struggle play out in her eyes. And I’m rewarded with that perfect moment when the struggle ends and my will triumphs over hers.

“Fine. For the rest of the conference, I’ll follow your stupid rules.”

“Good girl.” I deliberately lower my voice so the praise comes out as a soft purr that has her pupils darkening in response. “Arms up. Time to get that Big girl dress off you so I can remind you what a very Little girl you really are.”