The Daddy and the Dom (Mafia Menage Trilogy 2)

I just needed to convince Joseph that I was right.

“You’re not eating,” I observed. “Are you still upset about what happened with Ricky at the restaurant last night? You know I won’t let him anywhere near you ever again, don’t you?”

She peeked up at me. “I know. But I do feel…a little out of sorts. It would really help if I could go for a swim.” Her tone turned hopeful, and her eyes were wide and beseeching. “It helps clear my mind.”

I locked down my emotions before they could rise, shoving them away with familiar, ruthless force.

“No,” I said, an absolute refusal. I’d been putting Joseph off, but I had no intention of getting that pool filled and letting Ashlyn in the water. “Now, eat your lunch.”

Her brows rose. “No? That’s it? Just no?”

I placed my hands on the marble countertop, leaning toward her. The kitchen island separated us, but she shrank back on her stool.

“That’s it. No. Now, eat.”

Her lips thinned, her eyes flashing. “No,” she said, the word heavy with mockery. She flung her fork down. It clattered on the china plate.

I fixed her with my sternest stare. “I’m going to give you three seconds to pick up that fork and eat, little girl.”

“Little girl?” she repeated, her voice high and thin. Her cheeks flushed with something other than anger.

I tipped my head in confirmation. “That’s right. Now, be a good girl and eat the meal I made for you.”

Her lips parted on a disbelieving huff. I was certain no one had ever talked to her like this. She’d probably been spoiled, cosseted. Joseph certainly treated her with kid gloves.

She wouldn’t get that from me. She’d get a firm hand and learn a little respect.

She pushed her stool back from the island and got to her feet, flipping her long hair over her shoulder as she turned away from me. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“And you’re being a brat.”

To my shock, she shot me the middle finger and started storming off.

Any restraint I might have possessed snapped. I’d held back, for Joseph.

I was done denying who I was. I was done denying what I wanted.

It only took three long strides for me to catch up with her and close my hand around her upper arm.

“Let me go,” she seethed.

“No,” I said again, mocking her this time. “You want to be a brat? You’ll get treated like a brat.”

I grasped her waist and bent slightly so I could lift her over my shoulder. She shrieked and kicked out. I barely felt the little blows of her knees on my abs. She really was small and delicate, but I knew she could take what I needed to do to her.

Her fists pounded against my back, feeling more like a massage than angry punches.

I started striding up the stairs, eager to get her back to my bedroom.

She twisted on my shoulder, but holding her in place was laughably easy.

“Put me down!” she demanded.

I savored the little quaver in her voice as I stepped into the bedroom. I set her down on her feet, and she tried to shove at my chest. I grasped her wrists in one hand, pulling her toward the corner. I pressed her hands against the wall, so she was facing away from me. Then, I pushed my chest against her back, letting her feel my presence. I was careful to keep my hips away from hers, though. She wasn’t ready to feel my hard-on. Not yet.

She stopped yelling at me, going quiet except for her little panting breaths.

“You want to act like a brat?” I growled in her ear. “Brats get punished. Brats get disciplined.”

She shivered. “What are you—”

I nipped at her neck, a sharp bite of rebuke. “Quiet, little girl. You’re in enough trouble as it is.”

I kept her wrists pinned with one hand, leaning against her back so she was forced to press her chest to the wall.

“Stay still and take your punishment like a good girl,” I rumbled in her ear before brushing a kiss over the spot I’d bitten.

“Are you…” Her voice broke. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

I nuzzled my cheek against hers, letting her feel our connection. “I’m not going to hurt you, princess. You’re going to have a very sore bottom when I’m finished with you, but I won’t hurt you. Do you understand?”

“No, I don’t,” she whispered, her small body shaking.

“I think you do,” I countered. “You’ve practically been begging me for a spanking ever since you got here. You’re not a brat with Joseph, are you? You only act out around me. Because you know I’ll give you what you need.”

“And what’s that?” she asked tremulously, but she wasn’t struggling to get away from me.

“Discipline. Structure. Rules. You need someone who will take care of you, someone who cares enough to correct your behavior when you’re acting out for attention.”