I kissed her hand gently before releasing it and leading her to the playroom, making my way to the double-doored closet. With a swift motion, I pulled both doors open wide. Her eyes widened in disbelief, taking in the sight of the neatly arranged clothes. She moved closer, curiosity drawing her to the pretty dresses, the playful rompers, the charming cardigans, and the trio of jeans—one adorned with yellow daisies and the others sparkling with rhinestones on the pockets. She reached out, her fingers brushing against a fluffy pink jumper.
"They're all your size," I informed her. Then I hesitated. "This is where you probably think I'm a stalker…or an obsessed Daddy." I heard the hope in my voice. "The shoes will arrive tomorrow." I approached her, noticing her frame was a bit morepetite than it should be. "Although some might be a bit too big right now," I added, frowning slightly. "You haven't been eating properly, but that's going to change."
Her astonishment was palpable as she asked, "When did you get these?" She was clearly sidestepping my comment about her diet.
"Over the last six weeks or so, after the compound," I replied.
She looked up at me, confusion in her eyes. "But—"
"We hadn't met properly?" I shrugged, trying to downplay the situation. "I knew you were the one for me."
She shook her head, struggling to comprehend. "You were that confident?"
I scoffed lightly, "No, of course not. I doubted you'd ever give me the time of day."
"Then why go to all this expense?" she asked, recognizing the quality of the clothes.
"Because they gave me hope," I confessed. Her response was a tender kiss, one that I eagerly returned. We lingered there, savoring the moment. Slowly, with careful precision, I began to undress her, placing soft kisses on each newly revealed patch of skin. When she stood bare, I hummed in appreciation.
"There's a drawer full of pajamas and onesies," I told her, stepping back. I slid open the drawer and selected something blue—a delightful onesie featuring a Disney princess. As I bent down, she instinctively placed her hands on my shoulders for balance. I slipped it over her feet, pulled it up her body and gently zipped it up.
Surveying her, I couldn't help but smile. "Perfect," I declared. "You look adorable."
And mine.
Chapter Eleven
Dion
"Thank you," Emily whispered, her fingers playing with the soft fabric of the onesie. She looked both delighted and terrified, as though afraid to fully embrace how much she loved it.
I led her back to the kitchen, where our pasta had been waiting. I dished up two plates, cutting hers into small, manageable pieces before setting it in front of me. Then I reached down and settled her on my lap. Her eyes grew huge but she didn't protest when I picked up her fork and held the first bite to her lips.
"Open up," I said softly.
She complied, her eyes never leaving mine as she accepted the food. We continued like this—me feeding her, praising her when she finished a bite, occasionally wiping a stray bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth, then eating a mouthful of my own. With each gentle interaction, I could see her resistance melting away, her shoulders relaxing, her expression becoming more open.
"You've been taking care of everyone else for so long," I murmured, offering her another bite. "It's time someone took care of you."
Emily's cheeks flushed pink as she accepted another bite, her speech becoming softer, more hesitant. "It feels... it feels really nice, D-Daddy," she whispered. "I don't remember anyone ever..."
"Ever what, sweetheart?" I prompted gently, almost giddy at the name, smoothing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Ever making sure I ate everything," she said in a small voice. "Mother and Father always ate later. I used to eat by myself in the kitchen while they had important calls."
My heart clenched at the loneliness in her voice, but I kept my tone light and warm. "Well, that's not going to happen anymore. Daddy's going to make sure his little girl is well taken care of."
She looked down at herself, the way she was dressed sitting on my lap. “If… well, can I—”
I waited patiently while she worked out whatever she wanted to ask.
“I mean, after work sometimes.”
It took me a moment to work out what she was asking, and I considered my answer carefully before I replied. “Are you saying that sometimes after a hard day at work you like the idea of getting comfy and letting Daddy look after you?”
She gazed at me and nodded. My heart thudded, but just to check I asked, “Are you worried I won’t know the difference?When you’re my little one and when you’re a bad-ass social warrior?”
She blushed. “Is it bad to want both?”
