Page 79 of Merciless Daddy

My first instinct was a joke. Something obscene. Something sharp enough to put distance back between us.

Sal waited.

That patience was worse than pressure.

“It means . . .” I stopped.

My skin had grown hot.

He did not help me. Would not. He let me squirm.

“It means someone strong enough that I can stop being strong for a while.”

The admission sat on the table.

I stared at the blank lines beneath his writing.

“I manage everything,” I continued. “Rooms. Men. My father’s moods. Gianni’s ego. Kiryl’s fear. The staff’s fear. I always know where the doors are. Who has a weapon. Who needs protecting.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to do that every minute.”

His gaze stayed on me.

“I want someone who can take it,” I said. “The responsibility. For a little while. Someone who won’t fall apart if I misbehave. Who won’t hit me because I spoke wrong. Who won’t confuse obedience with love.”

Sal’s jaw tightened.

“And Little?” he asked. "What does that mean? Who is she to you?”

I looked down.

The word went through me almost as strongly as Daddy did.

“She isn’t stupid,” I said. “Or helpless.”

“No.”

“She isn’t a child.”

“Understood.”

“If I’m soft with you, you do not use it to dismiss me outside this room. You do not speak over me in business. You do not treat my ideas as cute.”

“Well yes, I have a preference for remaining alive.”

“Sal.”

“Don’t worry. I get it.”

I studied him. “Do you?”

“Yes. Your Little self is not weakness. She is the part of you that trusts me enough to put the weapons down.”

My throat tightened.

He knew me. Knew her—my Little.