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“ M aggie? Little girl, where are you?”

She scrunched down into the bathtub, pulling the blanket around her head as she heard Ian’s voice. Ziggy was in the bathtub with her and she knew she was getting him and the blanket all dirty.

It would have been a better idea to fill the tub with water before climbing in. Then some of her might have gotten clean.

But she wasn’t exactly thinking clearly when she’d climbed in here.

Tosser.

Disappointment.

Such a failure.

She wanted to pull at her hair but she could hear Ian moving through her bedroom. So she held back, trying to breathe deeply and slowly.

This was silly.

It was just dinner.

Which she’d ruined. When she was trying to do something nice for the guys. Maybe she should have just let them go out for dinner. At least they wouldn’t be starving and the kitchen wouldn’t be a disaster.

You’re such a disappointment.

A whimper escaped her before she could stop it.

“Ahh, there you are.”

No. Nope. She was invisible. And if she couldn’t see him, then he couldn’t see her.

“Little girl, can I move the blanket?”

No.

“Please?”

Maggie knew she was being silly. This was hardly a reason to hide. She just didn’t want them looking at her like she was a failure.

Even though that’s all she saw when she looked in the mirror.

“Please, Little girl. I’m worried about you.”

“I made a big mess.”

“So? You should see when Jack makes pancakes. How he gets batter on the ceiling and walls, I will never know.”

Was he making that up?

“Really?” she asked.

“Yep. Really. I don’t lie.”

She let out a deep breath, then moved the blanket away from her face to peer up at him. “I’m really sorry.”

He raised his eyebrows. “For what? Running off and hiding in a bathtub? Once, one of my brothers tried to run away from home. He hid in a rubbish bin. In summer. He stunk for days.”

She let out a surprised giggle. “Yuck.”

“Yep.” He was kneeling next to the tub, his forearms resting along the side as he smiled down at her.

This was a softer Ian. Almost gentle. Which was something she never thought she’d think about Mr. Grumpy-Knickers.

“How many siblings do you have?” she asked.

“Three younger, hideous brothers. Bane of my existence.”

“I bet.”

“You’ve got a sister and brother, right?” he asked.

She guessed that was in the background check they’d run on her.

“Yes. Both older.”

“You’re not close with them?”

She shrugged. “I mean, I love them. I talk with them quite often.” It was just that most of the time, they called her to complain about her. They’d be horrified at this latest escapade.

“But?” he prompted.

“Can you read minds?” she asked suspiciously.

“Never play poker, Little Misfit.”

“Damn, that was my back-up plan in case this gig didn’t work out.”

“Sorry to burst your dreams.”

She sighed. “It’s hard but I forgive you.”

“Tell me about your siblings.”

Drat. She’d been trying to distract him.

“Nothing much to tell. I guess I’m their annoying little sister who keeps messing stuff up.”

“You don’t mess stuff up.” He frowned.

“Um, I literally just fucked-up dinner. I’m completely useless.”

His face filled with thunder. “First of all, don’t swear.”

Whoa.

“You swear!”

“Yes, but you don’t. And I won’t have it.”

“I do swear.” She just found it more interesting to make up words. Her brother and sister hated it when she did that. They said it was childish.

What was so great about adult-ish swear words, she wanted to know.

“Second of all, if I ever hear you call yourself useless again, you’re getting your bum spanked.”

“We’ve talked about your obsession with spanking me.”

“I’m done talking about it,” he replied. “Do it again, get your butt reddened. End of story.”

“Shouldn’t there be a discussion of limits and safewords?”

“You’ve played before? Have you been to a club?”

“Um. Yes. A few times.” Indie’s brother ran a BDSM club in London which is the only reason she could afford to go. Because it was free. Slade wasn’t talking to Indie at the moment—the big fat jerk. So she hadn’t gone in a while.

Surprise filled Ian’s face. Followed by anger. “What club? Who was looking after you? Did they have monitors? Were you there with a Dom or on your own? Did you tell someone you were going? Give me the name of it right now!”

“Whoa, slow down. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.”

“I need to know that you were safe.”

“I was safe. My best friend’s brother owns the club I used to go to. He made sure we were protected. I didn’t . . . I never played that much. I can’t . . . I find it hard to submit if I don’t know someone. Mostly, I watched or hung out in . . .”

“In what?”

She wasn’t sure she was ready to go there.

Ian brushed her crusty hair off her face. “I’m a Daddy Dom.”

She jumped, her eyes widening. “You are?”

Well, that’s what she’d tried to say. Only, somehow, her thumb had slipped into her mouth, so it came out all garbled.

“It’s not nice to talk with your mouth full,” Ian scolded, his eyes twinkling with laughter as he removed her thumb from her mouth. “And your thumb is really dirty.”

Yeah. It was. And it really didn’t taste good.

“You are?” she repeated.

“Yep. Have been for a long time. I first discovered I was a Dominant in my early twenties when I was in the armed forces. Jack and I would go to clubs in our downtime. Then I met a mentor who was a Daddy Dom and discovered that was who I really was.”

“And Jack?”

“Jack’s a Dominant.” He didn’t say anymore.

But she understood. It wasn’t fair to talk about Jack without him here. She wanted to ask about Jameson. But held back.

“Are you a Little, Maggie?”

She nodded.

“Words, Little girl.”

Whoa. Bossy, grouchy Ian was hell on her libido. He made her head spin and her body take notice.

But kind, sweet Ian was almost more than she could take. Tears filled her eyes and she sniffled.

“Yes.”

“Ahh, precious girl. It’s all right. I know it’s hard to be vulnerable, to talk about these things. But you’re doing so well. You don’t have a Daddy?”

“No.”

“Good. I was going to tell you that he was a crap one who didn’t deserve you if he let you travel around on your own.”

“Hey! Just because I’m a Little doesn’t mean I can’t travel around on my own!”

“If you were my Little, you wouldn’t be allowed to.”

That shouldn’t send a shiver down her spine. It really shouldn’t. “I think someone is living in the Stone Ages.”

“I’m just very protective of the people who belong to me. And I would guard my Little with my life. She’d be protected, cherished, cared for.”

“And unable to sit comfortably, I’m guessing.”

He grinned. “Only if she was naughty.”

She guessed he wanted someone who obeyed the rules. Maggie could see his Little now. She’d be sweet and perfect and she wouldn’t ruin dinner, then hide in a bathtub.

Okay, it wasn’t normal to feel like punching an imaginary woman.

“You and Jack will share her?”

“Hopefully, Jameson too. We’ve had the same girlfriend before. But Jameson doesn’t think that’s what he wants anymore. He’s wrong.”

She had to roll her eyes at his words.

“Jameson was already working at the hospital here when Jack and I accepted a job. Escana is a special place where all sorts of relationships are accepted. Where we wouldn’t have to hide who we are.”

Where they could find that special person they were obviously looking for.

A tremble rocked through her and Ian’s eyes narrowed. “It can’t be comfortable in that bathtub. Let’s get you out.”

Her thumb slid back into her mouth. She wasn’t ready to get out yet. This bathtub was her safe space.

And yes, she knew she was being odd and would likely be embarrassed as hell later.

But she wasn’t ready to go back to reality.

“What did I say about that thumb?” Ian said sternly, drawing it out of her mouth. “It’s dirty and unhygienic.”

“It’s already been in my mouth, so it’s clean now.”

He grimaced. “It’s not.” He stood.

Great, he was disgusted by her and was going to leave. Instead, he grabbed a face cloth and wet it in the sink before returning to her. Grabbing her hands, he washed them both gently.

That was . . . really kind.

She slid her thumb into her mouth again as he got back up and rinsed the cloth.

With a sigh, he shook his head as he returned. “You need a dummy.”

She slid her thumb out. “I don’t. I’m not a baby.”

He raised one eyebrow. “It’s not just babies who use dummies. Big Little girls and boys use them as well.”

“I like my thumb,” she mumbled around her thumb since she couldn’t be bothered pulling it out.

“What did I say about talking with your mouth full?” The look he gave her was stern yet kind at the same time. She couldn’t quite explain it. This was a whole other side of Ian she hadn’t seen before.

It was his Daddy side.

That realization hit her hard. Because she was reacting to him. Her Little felt safe around him. She rarely let herself be like this with anyone. But with Ian . . . it felt right.

And that was terrifying.

Time to be Big again.

“I should get up. Clean up the mess. Maybe order pizza. Do they have pizza here?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s pizza everywhere,” Ian replied.

“Really? Everywhere? What about Antarctica? Or the North Pole?”

“You don’t think penguins and Santa like pizza? Pretty sure you can’t be that jolly without eating some pizza.”

Truth.

“I like Santa.”

“Of course you do. Who wouldn’t?”

“When I was a kid, my older sister told me that Santa wasn’t real. I cried and ran to my mum so she could tell me the truth.”

“And what did she say?” he asked, growing tense.

She smiled sadly. “That I was too old to believe in silly fairy tales. That of course he wasn’t real.”

“How old were you?” he asked.

“I think I’d just turned five.”

He started swearing under his breath.

“I guess she’s right. It’s better to face reality than live in a fantasy world.”

“Nothing wrong with fantasies or dreams,” he told her fiercely. “Understand?”

She shook her head. “I can’t live with my head in the clouds all the time. Reality has a way of intruding. There are always bills to pay and chores to be done. I’m an adult now.”

He still didn’t look happy.

“And I need to go clean up my mess.”

“I still believe in Santa,” he said abruptly.

“No, you don’t.”

“Sure, I do. He visited me last Christmas. Brought me some really ugly boxers. They were red with white fluff along the top and around the legs.”

“He did not.” She giggled.

“Sure he did. I can go find them and show you.”

“All right. You do that.”

“And then you’ll believe in Santa again?”

She wasn’t sure why he cared. And she couldn’t bring herself to agree. “I’ll think about it. Are you going to get them?”

He grunted. “They’re back in my house at the palace.”

Ahh, right.

Or they just weren’t real.

But it was still cute that he was trying.

She attempted to stand, groaning as her body protested. She felt far older than twenty-five right now. And her hip was aching from being curled up like this.

“Easy.” Ian reached out and lifted her from the tub. She slumped against him, unable to hold herself up.

She shivered, feeling cold.

To her shock, rather than stepping away, he lifted her into his arms so she was pressed to his chest.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re cold from sitting in the bathtub. Not the best hiding spot, Little Misfit. How about next time you go for the window seat or the bed?”

“I’ll consider it. But the bath . . . I don’t know. It felt safe. Silly, I know.”

“Do you want me to tap your bum?”

Um, maybe.

No. Bad brain.

“You try it and I’ll put peanut butter in all your undies.”

“You try that and you’ll be writing lines every day for the rest of your stay.”

Okay. This was . . . it was too much for her. She needed some space. Having a Daddy of her own, someone who wanted to look after her, but who would also put limits on her . . . yeah, it was a crazy dream. Not something that would ever be a reality, especially with Ian.

“I need to clean up.” She tried to wriggle free of his hold.

“Are you sure?”

“Um, yep. Pretty sure.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m filthy.”

“You’re all right to be left alone? I could stay and help.”

They both seemed to realize what he’d said at the same time. She could feel her face growing red.

“I, uh . . . I didn’t really mean . . .” he said.

“I’m fine, Ian,” she said, taking pity on him. Poor guy was going kind of purple.

Sheesh. He was really just a big teddy bear, wasn’t he? All soft and squishy behind the Mr. Grumpy-Knickers facade.

So sweet.

“Fine. No more calling yourself names. Or you’re getting your butt beaten.”

Okay, not completely sweet. Maybe like sixty percent.

Twenty minutes later, after washing her hair three times, Maggie walked downstairs. She’d put on her favorite pajamas. The bottoms were red and black tartan. The top was black and long-sleeved with a tartan zebra on it.

On her feet were zebra slippers.

They were all a present from Uncle Willy last Christmas. Her family would never give her something so whimsical and cute. Last Christmas, they’d given her grocery vouchers and a self-help book. Nothing wrong with the vouchers.

The self-help book was currently propping up a coffee table at her and Indie’s place.

She probably shouldn’t be wearing her best pajamas when she had a disaster to clean up, but she needed them to boost her self-esteem.

Her wet hair was up in a messy bun. She couldn’t be bothered drying it, especially not after washing it so much. Her arms were aching.

She really should get back into a fitness routine. She was pretty pathetic.

Walking into the kitchen, she came to a stop as she saw how clean it was.

Her mouth dropped open as Jack walked out of the butler’s pantry.

He stopped, his gaze running over her. Then he smiled.

She blushed.

Okay, maybe she should have worn something more appropriate.

“I, um . . . did you clean this all up?” Darn it. Now, she also felt guilty. While she’d been hiding and feeling sorry for herself, then taking an extra-long shower, Jack had been cleaning.

“I had help.”

“Right, I just threw the rubbish out. Ian said he’ll order some pizza, so I’m going to go wash my . . . ” Jameson drifted off as he saw her standing there.

Had Jameson helped clean up? There was a smear of something on his shirt that made her feel even guiltier.

“I’m so sorry,” she blurted out.

“For what, sweetheart?” Jameson asked with a frown.

“For making such a mess, then running off and leaving you both to clean up.” She bit her lip. “You should have left it for me to do.”

“It didn’t take long to clean up,” Jameson told her. Which was a definite lie.

“I can’t believe I burned the potatoes. And dropped the cake. It was going to be such a beautiful cake too.” Okay, now she was mourning a cake.

“You can always make another cake,” Jack told her. He walked over and drew her against his chest in a gentle hug. She sighed. He was such a good guy. “And I think potatoes taste better when they’re a tad burned. Gives them a kick, you know?”

A kick?

Sure it did.

Still, it was kind of him to try and make her feel better.

“Right, I’m going to order pizza. Maggie, what’re your favorite toppings?” Ian asked, walking in.

“Don’t worry about pizza for me.”

All three men went on high alert, watching her strangely.

Um. What was that about?

“I think we’ve already discussed skipping meals,” Jameson said sternly.

“As in, you’re not to do it,” Ian barked. “You’re eating dinner.”

Okay, his sweetness level just dropped to around fifty percent.

“Chill, you guys. I didn’t say I wasn’t going to eat.” Sheesh, if only they were aware of how many meals she’d missed over the last few years. Actually, on second thought, it was better that they didn’t know.

Moving to the fridge, she pulled out the chocolate torte. “This is my sort of dinner. Who wants to join me?”