Page 4 of Demon Daddy’s Nanny (Demon Daddies #3)

4

RIDWAN

T he bell chimes as I push open the bakery door, and the scent of fresh bread hits me like a physical force. Warmth floods my wings, and I fold them tight against my back. I shouldn't be here. Eva made her position clear when I offered her the companion position for Annalise. She turned me down - and I don’t need someone else in the house that I can’t control.

A few humans and xaphan bustle around behind the counter, their heads bowed in deference as I enter. None of them are Eva. My fingers drum against my thigh as I scan the shop, irritation prickling beneath my skin.

What am I doing here? This is beneath me. It’s something I’ve thought the whole walk over and yet, I’m still here. Still coming to see if she’ll reconsider.

The back door swings open and Eva emerges, balancing a cloth bag against her hip. Her chestnut hair has come loose from its tie, wisping around her face in the heat from the ovens. A smudge of flour marks her cheek. She freezes when she spots me, her amber eyes widening.

"My lord." She doesn’t bow to me like the others, and there's defiance in the set of her jaw. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Clearly." The word comes out sharper than intended. Something about her disheveled appearance unsettles me - makes my hands itch to brush that flour from her skin. I’ve rarely found anyone attractive, and I hate to admit how drawn I am to this human. I clench them at my sides instead.

"I assumed after our conversation the other day..." She trails off, shifting the bag higher on her hip. The movement draws my attention to the curve of her waist, and I force my gaze back to her face.

"You assumed correctly. I merely..." The excuse dies in my throat. What can I say? That I came to see if she'd changed her mind? That some inexplicable pull drew me here against my better judgment?

"I have orders to fill." Eva's voice is soft but firm. She moves past me, close enough that I catch the scent of vanilla and cinnamon clinging to her skin. My wings twitch with the urge to curl forward, to trap that sweetness against me.

I step back, disgusted with myself. She's human. Nothing more than a baker. My daughter needs a proper companion, not some common worker who already refused the position.

"Come with me." The words escape before I can stop them. Eva's eyes narrow, and I add, "To discuss the position. Properly."

She studies me for a long moment, then nods. "Let me change first."

Half an hour later, we walk through the golden archways of my estate, her steps matching mine despite my longer stride. The whole way, I told her what I expect - which is mostly just for her to keep Annalise occupied. In exchange, she wants unlimited access to my kitchens, which I’ve granted. As for her position at the bakery….I can handle that. I just need her to agree.

I watch her as she walks into the estate. Most humans shrink when they enter, overwhelmed by the towering ceilings and gleaming metalwork. But Eva's gaze sweeps over the intricate murals, the floating orbs of light, taking in every detail with quiet calculation.

"Your home is..." She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "Different than I expected."

"How so?"

"Less ostentatious." A hint of a smile plays at her lips. "Though still completely impractical."

My wings bristle at her boldness. "You find fault with xaphan architecture?"

"I find fault with stairs that float without railings when children live here." She gestures to the crystalline steps spiraling up to the second floor. "And windows that reach the ceiling but have no way to clean them."

"Magic handles such concerns."

"And when the magic fails?"

I stop, turning to face her. Most humans would flinch at my height, at the way my wings cast shadows over them. But Eva meets my gaze steadily, that same quiet assessment in her amber eyes.

"Magic doesn't fail in my home."

"Everything fails eventually." She says it matter-of-factly, no challenge in her tone. Just certainty born of experience. "Even the grandest things break down if not properly maintained."

Something about her words strikes too close to home. I turn away, continuing down the hall. "You speak from experience?"

"The bakery's enchanted ovens break down twice a year. I've learned to repair them myself rather than wait for a mage."

The admission surprises me. Most humans avoid touching magical items, fear bred into them from generations of warnings. But then, nothing about Eva fits my expectations of humans.

We reach Annalise's chambers, and I pause before knocking. Eva stands beside me, her hands clasped in front of her apron. She's changed into a clean dress, but missed a spot of flour behind her ear. The urge to brush it away gnaws at me.

I rap twice on the door. No response.

"Annalise." My voice carries the edge of command. "Open the door."

"Go away." The words are muffled, sullen.

Eva steps forward before I can respond. "I brought those honey-filled pastries you liked yesterday."

The door cracks open. Annalise's silver eyes peer out, narrowing when they land on me. But they brighten at the sight of Eva, and the door swings wide.

"You remembered?" Annalise's wings flutter - a tell she's trying to suppress her excitement. The golden feathers catch the light, so like my own it makes my chest ache.

"Of course." Eva produces a small wrapped package from her bag. "Though I added a bit more cinnamon this time."

Annalise snatches the package and retreats to her window seat, legs folded beneath her. The sullen mask she usually wears in my presence melts away as Eva follows her inside.

"Why aren’t you at the bakery?” Annalise asks between bites. Flakes of pastry dust her lap. "Don’t they need you to run the ovens?"

Eva perches beside her, smoothing her skirts. "I finished my morning shift. And there are others that can work the ovens. Though sometimes they have minds of their own. Last week, one decided all the bread should be purple."

Annalise laughs - a sound I haven't heard in weeks. "Purple bread? Did anyone buy it?"

"The children loved it. Their parents, not so much."

I lean against the doorframe, watching as my daughter peppers Eva with questions. Each answer draws Annalise further out of her shell. Eva meets her curiosity with patience, never dismissing her questions as childish or beneath notice.

When was the last time someone spoke to Annalise like this? Like she matters beyond her bloodline and status?

Eva catches my eye over Annalise's head. Something passes between us - an understanding, perhaps. Or a challenge. She sees what I've missed, what I've let slip away while buried in duties and old grief.

I follow them to the courtyard, maintaining enough distance that Annalise won't notice my presence. The afternoon sun catches Eva's hair, turning the chestnut strands to liquid copper as she helps my daughter tend to the withering garden. My wings twitch with each of Annalise's laughs - sounds I haven't heard in years.

Eva kneels in the dirt, heedless of her dress, showing Annalise how to check the soil. Her fingers dig into the earth with practiced ease while explaining something about root systems. Annalise leans in close, her golden wings spread wide for balance as she mimics Eva's movements.

The sight stirs something in my chest. When was the last time I taught Annalise anything? When did I stop being her father and become just another authority figure she rebels against?

They move through the courtyard methodically, Eva pointing out signs of magical interference in the plants' growth. My daughter soaks up every word, asking questions I should have answered years ago. The garden was Sera's pride - I let it decay after her death, another failure to add to my growing list.

The sun dips low, casting long shadows across the flagstones. Eva brushes dirt from her skirts and guides Annalise toward the house. She pauses at the entrance, touching my daughter's shoulder. "Go wash up for dinner. I'll be right behind you."

Once Annalise disappears inside, Eva turns to face me. I expect her to startle at finding me so close, but she meets my gaze without flinching.

"You should be the one talking to her like this." Her voice carries no judgment, just quiet certainty. The words slice through my carefully constructed walls. "She needs her father, not just another authority figure."

I draw myself up, wings spreading. Most humans would cower at the display of dominance. Eva just watches me, those amber eyes seeing too much.

The guilt coils in my stomach, hot and heavy. I push it down, ignoring the truth in her words. "You overstep, human." The words taste bitter on my tongue.

Eva's shoulders straighten. "Then dismiss me. But you know I'm right."

I work my jaw. “Have you reached a decision?”

“I’ll stay.” Her eyes dart toward the door. “For her. I know she needs someone, but you could at least try with her.”

I don’t know how to process the second part of her answer, so I only answer the first. “I’ll send someone to tell your employer and gather your things. You can choose one of the rooms in Annalise’s wings.”

Eva’s eyes assess me with a cunning I’m not used to. “I might be your daughter’s companion, but that won’t make me agree to everything you say.”

And then, she turns and walks into the house, leaving me alone with thoughts I've avoided for years.

Hours later, I sit in my office, staring at reports without reading them. The words blur together, meaningless scratches on parchment. My wings ache from holding them rigid against my back. The floating orbs cast harsh shadows across my desk, throwing the neat stacks of papers into sharp relief.

I shove back from the desk. The chair scrapes against stone, the sound echoing through the empty room. Even the scratch of my quill feels too loud in this silence.

My feet carry me through the halls before conscious thought takes hold. The estate stretches vast and hollow around me, its grandeur mocking the emptiness within. Golden archways soar overhead, their magical lights dimmed for evening. My footsteps echo off floors that haven't felt the patter of running feet in years.

I find myself outside Annalise's door, drawn by the sound of laughter spilling through the crack beneath. Eva's voice drifts out, warm and rich as she describes some mishap at the bakery. Annalise's giggles follow - a sound so foreign it takes me moments to recognize it.

My hand lifts to the door handle, then falls away. When did I become a stranger in my daughter's life? When did her laughter become something I hear only through closed doors?

The walls press in, suffocating despite their height. My wings flex, itching to spread wide and carry me far from these memories. From Eva's knowing gaze and my daughter's silver eyes that look so much like her mother's.

Another burst of laughter rings out. The sound wraps around my throat like a vise. This is what I've denied her - what I've denied us both. Simple joy. Connection. The warmth of shared stories and gentle teasing.

Eva brought life back into these halls with nothing more than patience and pastries. While I've spent years building walls of duty and protocol, she knocked them down with a smile and flour-dusted hands.

I press my forehead against the cool wood of the door, wings trembling with the effort of keeping them still. On the other side, my daughter lives and breathes and laughs. And I stand here in the dark, a shadow at the edges of her world.