“Exactly. Let her taste freedom just long enough to make the recapture meaningful. She needs to believe escape is impossible, not just difficult.”
After disconnecting with Esme, I immediately called Rudy.
“Sir?” Rudy answered on the first ring.
“Our little girl is planning to run,” I said without preamble. “Most likely during her gym session today. The fire exit.”
“Do you want us to prevent it?” Rudy asked, his voice professionally neutral.
“No. Let her get out. Give her fifteen minutes head start, then bring her back. Mateo should follow at a distance to ensure her safety, but stay out of sight. You’ll coordinate the actual recapture.”
“Understood, sir. Bring her straight to you?”
I paused, considering. “Yes. Bring her right to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
After ending the call, I returned my attention to the surveillance feed. Louisa had picked up the Georgia Jones book again, buther eyes kept drifting to the door. The determined set of her jaw made something tighten in my chest.
I zoomed in on her face, studying the delicate curve of her cheek, the slight furrow between her brows as she concentrated. The operation had proceeded exactly as planned so far. Louisa was responding to the Bad Girl Program protocols with textbook perfection. Everything was on schedule for the conference with Oscar and Viktor.
So why did I feel this unexpected reluctance? This protective instinct that seemed to grow stronger each time I looked at her?
“Damn it,” I muttered, rubbing a hand over my face. “God damn it, Little Lulu. Do you have to be so smart, let alone so adorable?”
Louisa
When Rudy unlocked the door and entered, I did my best to seem resigned to my life as Jax’s little girl—the way my version of Georgia Jones would be, with the dominant older husband who knew how to use a young bride properly.
“Time for your workout, little one,” he said, his deep voice making my stomach flutter despite myself. “Let’s get you changed.”
I set the book aside, assuming a posture of demure compliance as he approached with workout clothes—the same skimpy sports bra as yesterday and nothing else. My heart began to race, but not from fear. This was it. My chance.
“Yes, Daddy Rudy,” I murmured, standing and letting him remove my dress.
His huge hands worked efficiently to unfasten my diaper, his fingers lingering a moment too long between my thighs. I forced myself not to recoil, remembering that I needed to play along, to lull him into complacency.
“Should I use the toilet first, Daddy?” I asked softly, looking up at him through my lashes.
“Good girl for asking,” he praised, guiding me to the bathroom. “Yes, you should.”
As he watched me pee, I kept my eyes downcast, pretending shyness while my mind raced through the plan one final time. Get to the gym. Wait for a moment when Rudy is distracted. Run for the fire exit. Find help.
Simple. Straightforward. My only chance.
Once dressed in just the sports bra and running shoes, I followed Rudy through the apartment toward the private elevator that would take us to the gym. The cool air raised goosebumps on my bare legs and bottom, but I ignored the discomfort, focusing instead on what lay ahead.
“You’re quiet today,” Rudy observed as the elevator descended. “Thinking about tonight?”
I blushed genuinely, the reminder of what awaited me if I failed to escape sending a jolt of both fear and—God help me—unwanted arousal through my body.
“Yes, Daddy Rudy,” I whispered. “I’m… nervous.”
His large hand came to rest possessively on my bare bottom. “Don’t worry, little girl. Daddy Rudy will be gentle. At first.”
The elevator doors opened, and I followed him into the hallway, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he must hear it. The gym doors loomed ahead, and beyond them, freedom.
Rudy pushed them open, revealing the now-familiar space with its state-of-the-art equipment and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. And there, just as I remembered, the glowing red exit sign above a metal door.
