“We need to talk about some things. About packing up your grandmother’s stuff. Have you been through her study?”
That seemed a weird question. He shook his head. “No. I haven’t had any time to go through her stuff. Can’t that wait until. . .”
She was gone. He swallowed heavily.
“I want you to make sure that girl she had living with her didn’t take anything.”
He ground his teeth together. “Gigi isn’t a thief.”
There was a pause. Shit.
“You did kick her out, right?” his father asked suspiciously.
“No. I didn’t. She’s been ill and that is her home. She’s staying there with me.”
His father swore. “Another bleeding heart just like your grandmother. She’s probably faking her illness just to get your sympathy. How can you be so stupid? How—”
“I’m hanging up now. Bye.”
Macca ended the call with a grimace. Good riddance.
Asshole.
10
“How are you feeling, baby?” Macca sat next to her on the outdoor swinging seat as day turned into dusk. It felt good to be outside, even if he’d been watching her like a hawk to make certain she didn’t overdo things or move out from under the shade of the porch into the sunshine.
“Lots better.” She’d been out of the hospital for two days now. She’d spent all of yesterday resting and eating and drinking while he’d visited his nan.
“Good. You look a lot better and I’m happy with how your ankle is.”
There had been no swelling all of yesterday or today.
“I’m glad. That’s all I want. For you to be well. Safe. Happy.”
She smiled at him.
“So now we need to have a little chat.”
Uh oh. Those were ominous words. The other day, he’d brought home a notebook. On the cover, he’d written, Gigi’s Naughty Girl Book in black marker. Then he’d proceeded to write down all the naughty things she’d done. She’d made him promise to hide the notebook. Last thing she needed was his cousin, Everly, or her son, Nico, finding it.
“Do you still feel guilty about worrying me, baby?”
She squirmed on the seat. Did she tell him the truth? But why lie? It wasn’t like he was going to pounce on her or force her to do anything she didn’t want to.
“Yes.”
“Would you like me to take care of that for you?”
Did she want that? “With a spanking?”
“It doesn’t need to be a spanking, but I think it would be the most effective. But it is entirely up to you. I’m not going to force you into anything. This is to help you.”
Help her. It sounded so wrong, that a spanking could help her.
“And maybe it would show you what a spanking would be like. Have you been curious? Have you ever wondered what it would feel like to be taken across a firm lap and have your bottom spanked? To not be in control? To be held and comforted afterwards? To not have to think and worry over something you’ve done because you know you’ve been punished and forgiven?”
Yes.