Page 87 of Merciless Daddy

Then he looked at me.

“Last question.”

My pulse beat everywhere.

“Do you want me to be your Daddy?”

The room went silent.

I thought of my father’s house. The blue room. The nursery hidden above it. Every moment I had wanted someone to take the weight without taking me apart.

I thought of Sal asking before offering his hand.

Waiting before holding me.

Giving me a car and refusing to make freedom proof that he did not want me to stay.

I met his eyes.

“Yes, Daddy.”

The words left me soft.

Sal’s breath stopped. His entire body changed without moving. His shoulders tightened. His hand closed around the pen. Dark hunger crossed his face so openly that heat rushed through me again. He signed beneath my name.

Salvatore Scordato.

Then he stood.

I stayed in my chair, looking up at him, my body tense with expectation.

He bent.

One hand settled lightly against the back of my head.

My lips parted.

He kissed my forehead.

Nothing else.

The restraint of it was devastating.

His mouth stayed there for one slow second. Warm. Firm.

When he drew back, his eyes held mine.

“Go to bed, little one,” he said.

I gathered the agreement carefully in both hands.

“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered. I wanted to be his good girl. The very best girl I could possibly be for him.

His eyes closed.

Just for a moment.

That was how I knew I had not surrendered alone.