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Chapter Seventeen

Gracie

V inny hasn’t responded to the photo I sent him of me on his desk with my bare pussy out like he asked me to. I spent way too long lingering in his space than was appropriate, but his scent hanging in the air had me wishing he was there with me.

When I finally slid off his desk and sulked out of his office like a naughty schoolgirl, my face flamed at Hazel giving me a knowing smile.

Is this something he does with every woman he has a contract with? Jealousy churned my gut as I scooped Bonnie from Hazel’s arms and made my way upstairs to bathe her before bed.

“Who’s a pretty little princess?” I coo, and my little girl splashes in the inch of bath water. Coated in bubbles, she grins up at me and claps her hands together in glee.

A knock sounds from behind me, and as I turn, the door opens.

Vinny stands against the doorframe, then his gaze wanders from Bonnie to me, and I struggle to swallow.

God, he’s gorgeous. His smoldering eyes travel over my body, and his jaw grinds from side to side before he somehow masks his annoyance.

I fight the urge to shy away from his scrutiny, feeling inadequate for the sudden change in his demeanor.

When his gaze lifts back up to mine, he holds my stare before I glance away, dropping my hair in front of my face like a curtain, and turn my attention back to Bonnie.

“Do you have any toys?”

His question throws me off guard, and I turn to face him, blinking. Then my mind races with visions of him having an array of sex toys, and my face turns red, and I lick my lips.

A deep chuckle fills the air, and Bonnie tries to mimic him, causing us both to face her.

“Are you laughing at me, Bon-Bon?” He grins.

“Bo-Bo,” she blubbers, attempting to copy his nickname for her. The fact he has one sends butterflies floating through my veins.

“Clever girl.” He kneels beside the bath, then he gently tucks my hair behind my ear.

“Now, when I said toys, I meant bath toys for Bonnie.” He tilts his head toward the bath, and my mouth falls open.

“I have plenty of those other toys, you’ll find out soon enough.

” My eyes widen, and I try to speak but can’t. “Did you bring any of her bath toys?”

My heart hammers. Partly because I’m embarrassed, stunned, and a floundering idiot, and also because she doesn’t have bath toys. I clear my throat. “She doesn’t have any bath toys,” I state. His eyes narrow, and I worry I’ve said too much.

The vein on his temple throbs, and I hear him grind his teeth.

My fingers itch to caress his jaw, and somehow, I find the courage to do it.

The moment my hand touches his five o’clock shadow, his taut muscles relax, and he turns his cheek into my palm.

“I don’t know who’s worse, your father or hers.

” His tone is solemn, and I scan his face, unsure of what he means.

“Leaving her with no toys for the bath. My sons are forever sending me photos of their kids in the bath.” He waves his arm out toward the tiled wall.

“It looks like a fucking amusement park in their bathroom.” My lip wobbles at his words, and my hand slips from his face.

Being reminded what my daughter is missing out on is like a knife being plunged into my stomach.

“Hey”—he brings my hand to his lips—“I’ll buy her as many toys as she needs. ”

“She doesn’t need them,” I whisper. As much as I’d like my daughter to have them, they’re not a necessity. I’ve used empty milk cartons and plastic yogurt pots for her to play with before. What’s important is her future.

“I’m buying them anyway.” His eyes bore into mine, most likely waiting for an argument. Finally, he clears his throat. “When you’ve finished bathing Bonnie, I want you bent over the bed for your punishment.”

My mouth drops open. “Wh-what? Why?”

“Because I gave you an instruction, and you spoke back.” He says it so casually, like he didn’t just threaten me with a promise of punishment.

I rear back. “Is that in the contract?”

He eyes me with suspicion, and I instantly find the hem of my T-shirt to cling onto. His eyes travel over me, and once again, I find myself feeling inadequate. “I don’t know. Is it?” His eyes have darkened, and my throat becomes dry as he challenges me.

“I-I haven’t gotten around to reading it all yet.”

He sighs heavily, and I hate the way his face falls with disappointment.

I want to throw my arms around his neck and beg him for my forgiveness, which is just ridiculous, but I long to have his reassurance.

I blink back the tears threatening to spill, and when his warm hand cups my chin and turns my head to face him, I let out a sigh of relief that his face is no longer etched in sorrow.

“Do you want me to bathe you?” His husky voice sends a shot of enthusiasm through me, and I nod.

He glances back toward Bonnie. “Will she need fed before she goes to sleep?”

“Probably.”

He nods. “I have a doctor coming over to give you your birth control shot.” My heart leaps in my chest. “But first, I have some calls to make. I want you to get Bon-Bon”—my breathing stutters again at his nickname—“ready for bed, feed her, then put her down for bedtime.”

“What about my bath?” I ask, and his lip curls into a smile.

“I’ll bathe with you once the doctor has finished.”

I nod, a thrill of excitement zipping up my spine, and when he leans forward and places his lips on my forehead, I melt beneath his touch, and between my legs becomes wet.

“Good girl,” he rasps, probably knowing the effect he has on me.

I don’t think he realizes the depths of my desire for him, and my feelings are the scariest part. If he wanted me to stay forever, I’d throw my plan out the window to keep him.

But I can’t do that, not with our lives at stake.