What sort of an expert?I hadn't missed his slight hesitation when he'd described Walker.
I'd put my fork down and without so much as missing a beat Dion took it, speared a strawberry and held the fork to mymouth. I gaped in astonishment, and he simply popped the piece into my mouth. "Good girl," he praised.
Frozen, I was too shocked to even chew for a moment. What stunned me more than Dion feeding me was my own reaction—I didn't pull away or snap at him. Instead, I felt a warm flutter in my stomach that had nothing to do with the food.
"I can feed myself," I finally managed after swallowing, my voice lacking any real conviction.
"I know you can," Dion replied, already spearing another strawberry, offering no other justification.
The action hit something deep inside me, something I'd buried so thoroughly I'd almost convinced myself it didn't exist. I'd always pushed those feelings away. I was Emily Carter, a fiercely independent social worker. I helped others; I didn't need help myself.
Yet here I was, opening my mouth obediently as Dion fed me another bite, a strange sense of rightness settling over me.
"There you go," he murmured, his voice dropping to that gentle tone that made my insides turn to jelly. "Just a few more bites."
I should stop this. Should grab the fork and assert my independence. But I didn't want to. For these few precious moments, I could pretend this was normal—that I was allowed to have this. And the more time I spent with Dion the more I was convinced he was a Daddy.
"What's going on in that head of yours?" Dion asked, his blue eyes studying me intently.
I looked away, heat flooding my cheeks. "Nothing."
"Emily." Just my name, but spoken with such authority that my eyes snapped back to his. "Don't lie to me."
"I'm not—" I began, but the raised eyebrow he gave me made the words die in my throat. "It's embarrassing," I admitted instead.
"Try me," he encouraged, setting down the fork and giving me his full attention.
I fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, unable to meet his gaze. "I... I," I hesitated. "Being taken care of. It's not something I've ever... had."
Dion's expression softened, but I caught something else there too—a flash of satisfaction, maybe even a need of his own. "There's nothing embarrassing about that, sweetheart. Everyone needs care sometimes."
"Not like this," I insisted, gesturing vaguely between us. "This is... different."
"Different how?" he pressed, though I suspected he already knew.
I couldn't say it. Couldn't admit out loud that part of me—a part I'd tried desperately to ignore—yearned to be someone's Little. To have a Daddy who would take care of me, protect me, make me feel safe in a way I never had before.
But I didn't know this man. How could I possibly trust him with something I'd never shared with anyone else?
Chapter Five
Dion
I was saved from having to press Emily further by the sound of the security system announcing visitors turning in. Emily tensed immediately, her eyes darting to the front door.
"That'll be the guys," I said, standing to clear our plates. "Don't worry, they're here to help."
She nodded, but I could see the anxiety written across her face as she tugged at the hem of my shirt. "I should change. I can't meet your team like this."
"Your clothes from yesterday are in the dryer," I told her. "But if you'd prefer, I can find you something else to wear."
"My clothes are fine," she said quickly, sliding off the stool. "Where's the dryer?"
I showed her to the laundry room, noting how she'd straightened her posture and schooled her features into a mask of professional detachment. The vulnerable Emily from breakfast was gone, replaced by the social worker who'd faced down her captors with defiance. I wasn't sure which version was more real, but I suspected both were essential parts of who she was.
While she changed, I let my team in. Gideon entered first, his sharp eyes taking in every detail of the house as if checking for security breaches. Maddox followed, carrying a laptop case, with Eric bringing up the rear, his arms full of technical equipment.
"Coffee's in the kitchen," I told them, leading the way. "Emily's changing. She'll be out in a minute."
