Chapter 7: Daddy Devious: Chapter 6

My little thief sleeps soundly the rest of the trip. I know I should probably wake her instead of letting her sleep so long. But she’s had such a hard day and she looks so sweet and peaceful in my arms, I can’t bear the thought of disturbing her.

Unfortunately, we’re getting ready to land, which means she needs to be in her seat. Brushing a lock of hair from her face, I wake her as gently as I can. “Time to get up, Victoria. We’re almost home.”

Her nose scrunches up in the most adorable way and she burrows into me. “Don’t wanna.”

“I know, little one. But you need to get buckled in again before we begin our descent. You can go right back to sleep if you want.”

Lifting her head, she blinks owlishly and rubs at her eyes. “Time ‘zit?”

“A little after five.”

“Really?” The corners of her lips dip down into a frown. “Why did you let me sleep so long?”

“Obviously you needed it.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

I can feel her withdrawing from me. My sweet Little girl is slipping away with every passing second, and when she moves from my lap to her own seat, I miss the weight of her, soft and warm in my arms.

No matter. Once we’re on the island, she won’t have anywhere to run from me. She can try to be as aloof as she wants, but I’m a ruthless man when it comes to getting what I want.

And what I want is Victoria Finch. Not just her mouth or her sweet little cunt. But all of her, heart, body, and soul. If that means keeping her trapped on my island of forbidden pleasures until she’s forgotten everyone and everything back in New York even exists, then so be it.

As the plane descends, I lean over, deliberately crowding her under the guise of pointing things out on the island.

“You see that section in the middle, with all the streets? That’s the town. There’s a bakery, and an arcade, and a candy store. Pretty much anything a Little girl could want.”

“Clothes?”

There’s a longing in her voice when she asks the question and I allow myself a grin since she’s looking out the window rather than at me. “There is a boutique. Would you like to go shopping tomorrow and pick out some new clothes?”

“Can we?” Now she does turn to look at me, her eyes bright with excitement for a moment before an adorable blush steals across her cheeks. “I mean, I don’t really expect you to buy me things. It’s okay if we can’t.”

I almost feel guilty about not being completely honest with her about the shopping trip I’d already had planned. “If you’re a very good girl, Daddy will buy you whatever you want.”

She laughs, a trilling little sound, but it’s tinged with bitterness. “I don’t know if I can be that good.”

“That’s no problem. If you’re naughty, Daddy knows how to make you his good girl again.”

More pink floods her cheeks and she turns back to the window. “What else is there?”

I spend the rest of the descent pointing out the waterpark, the playground, explaining about the different shops downtown. Pointing out the houses as we circle, and telling her a little about my friends.

“And that one, right there, is our house.”

“Oh! It looks like a castle.”

Leaning in even further, I laugh. “I suppose it does. Catharina always tells me I have a flair for the dramatic.”

“Your friends… are they all… like you?” Her voice is soft, hesitant, almost as if she’s afraid of the answer.

I can’t say I blame her.

“Are you asking if they all have Little ones of their own?”

“Um. Yes. I guess I am.”

“Not yet. You’ll be the first. But they are all Daddies and Mommies looking for their perfect Little girl.”

“I don’t think I qualify as a perfect anything.”

There’s such sadness in her voice, it tugs at my heart again and I run a hand over her hair. You’re perfect for me. The words stick in my throat, not because I don’t mean them, but because I know it’s far too soon for her to hear them. “We’re about to land, little one,” I say instead.

It isn’t the smoothest landing I’ve ever had, and Victoria clutches my hand in a death grip as we bounce along the runway. Fury burns in my chest at the sight of her looking so distressed and I make a note to speak with Evander about finding us a new pilot. Nobody but me is allowed to put that look of fear on my Little girl’s face.

Setting aside my own feelings, I focus on her. Right now she needs my comfort more than my anger. “Shhh. You’re safe, little one. Daddy’s right here.”

Eyes squeezed shut, she presses her head back against the headrest. “Uh-huh.”

If I could, I would pluck her right out of her seat and cradle her on my lap until we were ready to disembark. But I settle for leaning over to press a kiss to her temple. She relaxes a bit at my touch, though not nearly enough for my liking so I keep her hand tucked safely in mine until at long last the plane rolls to a stop and the seatbelt sign goes dark.

Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, I keep my voice low and soothing when I tell her, “You can open your eyes now, Victoria. We’re home.

Victoria

The island is gorgeous. I have no idea where we are, but clearly it’s somewhere tropical, judging by the heat and the acres of exotic trees rising up around us as we drive toward my new home.

You mean your prison.

Shoving the uncomfortable thought aside, I crane my neck to try and take in everything as we drive. At Mr. Stone’s command, Oliver detours through town so I can see all the shops he was telling me about on the plane.

The thing that strikes me the most is how normal it all seems. Outside a barber shop, for instance, an elderly man in an apron sweeps the sidewalk. He lifts his head and waves in greeting as we pass, like something out of an old movie.

“Does everyone on the island know about the whole… Little girl thing?”

Beside me, Mr. Stone looks up from his phone and smiles. “They do. All the citizens of the island must pass careful background checks and screenings before they’re allowed to even know what the true nature of the island is.”

“How did you find so many people?”

“The world is filled with depraved souls, my little thief. Any number of whom would jump at a chance to live out their deepest, darkest fantasies out in the open without fear of judgment.”

It makes sense, or at least as much sense as I can make of any of this.

We spend the rest of the ride in silence, Mr. Stone tapping away on his phone while I keep myself occupied with the scenery.

And then I see the house. It’s even more impressive than it was from the air, rising up at the end of a long and winding driveway, a fortress of brick and stone that literally steals the breath from my lungs.

At least if I have to be trapped in a prison, it’s one as gorgeous as this. And it comes with some pretty spectacular perks, if that orgasm on the plane is anything to judge by.

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

“It’s beautiful,” I tell him, tearing my gaze away from the house to look over at Mr. Stone.

He raises his head, tucking his phone back into his pocket and rewarding me with an uncharacteristically warm smile. “Thank you. The east wing is still under construction, so you’ll need to be careful not to wander. But I’m rather proud of what we’ve built here.”

What is wrong with me that I immediately want to do exactly what he’s just warned against and go exploring every single inch of my new “home”? Even knowing I’ll likely face a painful punishment for such a disobedience, the desire to thumb my nose at his rules is like an itch between my shoulder blades.

But Mr. Stone doesn’t even give me a chance to disobey. The second the car rolls to a stop, he takes my hand firmly in his, and keeps a tight hold on it as we exit the backseat and make our way up the massive stone steps to the house.

We’re halfway up the steps when the front door opens, revealing a stone-faced man in a well-fitting suit. Everything about the man screams that he is not someone who will tolerate any misbehavior, and already I’m rethinking my desire to test Mr. Stone’s rules.

Unease coils in my belly and I press myself against Mr. Stone, doing my best to hide behind him. Despite everything he’s done up until now, at least I know him. Sort of. He may be dangerous, but he isn’t a complete stranger and I cling to that shred of familiarity with everything I have.

I count my blessings that Mr. Stone finally let me pull my skirt down when we exited the plane, so I’m not meeting this stern-looking man with my ass on display.

“No reason to feel shy, little thief. Caleb isn’t quite as mean as he looks.”

If that’s meant to be reassuring, it falls far short of the mark. Because the closer we get, the meaner Caleb looks, which still seems to leave plenty of room for him to be very, very mean.

“Welcome home, Mr. Stone.” Caleb glances down at me for only a second before shifting his attention back to his boss. “Everything has been arranged just as you requested.”

“Thank you, Caleb. We’ll take dinner upstairs tonight.”

“I’ll inform the kitchen.”

Moving aside, Caleb makes space for us to pass him, and I do my best to ignore his stony expression as Mr. Stone and I step inside.

Into the most stunning house I’ve ever seen.

“House” honestly seems like an insult. My observation that it looked like a castle from the sky seems even more apt as I stare in wonder at the soaring ceilings and marble floors that seem to stretch on for miles. The walls are painted a surprisingly cheerful, if muted, blue, and gorgeous watercolors hang artfully along the entryway.

Where I’d expected a masculine cave, I’m instead presented with a tastefully decorated, welcoming space. If I had the kind of money Mr. Stone has, it might even be how I would decorate my own home.

Perhaps he’ll give me the name of his decorator when I’m returned to New York with the ten million dollars he’s promised me.

Jesus.

“Come, little one. You’ll have plenty of time to explore tomorrow.”

Mr. Stone gives my arm a gentle tug, breaking the spell his house has woven around me, and I fall in step behind him, tripping a bit as I swivel my head around to try and take everything in.

Pausing at the bottom of a giant, curved staircase that looks like it was transplanted directly from the set of some old Hollywood movie, he frowns down at me. “Are you all right?”

“What? Yeah I’m fine, just a little distracted.”

His frown deepens. “Come here.”

Before I can ask what he means, he bends and scoops me up. Just like at the airport, I’m forced to wrap myself around him, clinging to him as he carries me up the stairs.

“What are you doing?” I ask, immediately feeling like an idiot considering how obvious the answer is.

“Carrying you. I can’t have my Little girl getting distracted on the stairs.”

The words have a scolding tone to them that brings a rush of embarrassed heat to my face. “I won’t. You can put me down.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“I can walk on my own.”

At the top of the stairs, he takes a right turn toward a room with a pretty pink sign hanging on the door. “You can, but you may not.”

Okay, apparently that’s going to be a thing with him. “Whatever.”

He stops outside the room with the pink sign, his expression stern. “If you keep giving me attitude, you will be going to bed with a very sore bottom. Consider that your one and only warning, little girl.”

The last thing I want is another spanking, even if I do think he’s being a bit ridiculous. “Sorry,” I mumble, my face heating with embarrassment.

“Thank you. Now, would you like to see your room?”

“My room?”

“Yes. Didn’t you see the sign?”

I turn my head, and for the first time, I really look at the piece of wood hanging on the door. From a distance, all I’d been able to see were the flowers, but up close I can finally read what it says. And the words, carefully printed in beautiful calligraphy on the painted wood, have my stomach dropping to my knees.

Victoria’s Nursery.