CHAPTER HUNDRED AND TWENTY- EIGHT

SPENCER POV

I called again. And again after that.

      I stare at my phone screen and breathe through the irrational nerves.

      Maybe she’s been held up in class. Maybe she’s in a noisy canteen.

      It happens.

      I’m fooling myself. It’s part of the rules, our lunchtime phone call. She always answers on the second ring. Like clockwork.

      Only not today.

      I considered my options, contemplating calling the college reception and leaving a message for her, but what would be the point?

      I’ll look like a stalker for the sake of easing my paranoia, that or alarm her unnecessarily.

      I force myself to get a grip, to reflect on the morning and weigh up the situation rationally.

 She was tired and rushed, barely awake when I dropped her off at college. There’s almost certainly an entirely innocent explanation.

      Almost certainly.

 If there is then I shall punish her for breaking the rules so carelessly, and if there isn’t…

      I daren’t even give that a thought.

 I struggle through my afternoon appointments, endeavouring to give my patients my professional attention with my nerves wound tight in my chest.

I tried Violet’s phone again during a lull in meetings. It rings through to voicemail just as Damien Hunts steps into my room. He’s my joint senior partner, as much of a friend as I’d class anyone, not that the bar’s particularly high.

 His smile tells me he’s heard the news. I wouldn’t have imagined anything less, not now I’ve given my assistant a gossip-worthy detail. I didn’t expect the news would stay a secret, and I’m sure she didn’t consider it confidential information. Now I’m officially bringing my partner to the Christmas party.

      “Tell me about Violet with the pink diamond,” Damien says and holds out his hand across the desk. “Congratulations on the couple's status.”

      I shake it warmly. “Word travels fast…”

      “Secretaries talk.” He tips his head. “She must be quite a woman to snare a stoic old dog like you.”

      “Enough of the old.” I laugh a professional laugh, even though it feels like rusty iron in my throat.    

“So,” he prompts. “What’s she like? You kept that one close to your chest.”

      I cast another glance at my phone before I answered. No messages. “She’s sweet and kind. Gracious. Beautiful.”

      “Blonde?”

      I smile. “Blonde, yes.”

      “Nice legs?”

      I met his stare. “Nice smile. A nice heart. The legs are merely a bonus, Damien.”

      “So she does have nice legs…” He laughs to himself. “Can’t wait to meet her. I’m sure Ellie will love getting to know her.”

   Ellie Hunt celebrated her fiftieth birthday last summer. She’s a wildfire, a sharp cracker with a sharp tongue and absolutely nothing in common with little Violet.

 Damien’s digging and I know it. I make him wait, pretending to check out a fresh email.

 I use the moment to contemplate whether I’m ready for this, but it doesn’t take all that long to consider.

      I’m ready for everything Violet brings to my life, including any awkward questions.

      I take a breath. “She’s eighteen, Damien.” I hold his stare without flinching.

  He doesn’t flinch either. “A sweet young thing, I’m sure.”

      “Very.”

      “Then I’m happy for you.” His smile is genuine enough. “We should go out one night, celebrate with some champagne. Introduce young Violet to our office family.”

      “She’ll be coming to the Christmas party,” I tell him, like he hasn’t already heard.

  “Excellent. I’ll be bringing Zoe, she’s back from university and no doubt she’ll be bored enough to come along. I’m sure they’ll get on fantastically. Maybe they could spend some time together. Zoe gets lonely without her uni pals. You know how it is when you’re that age.”

I’m not sure I remember, but smile regardless. “I’m sure Zoe would enjoy that,” I told him.

      “Excellent,” he says. “I look forward to meeting the future Mrs Douglas.”

      I raise my eyebrows. “That’s quite a statement.”

      “She must be quite a woman,” he says again. “Any woman that can catch your heart after all these years has got to be one to keep hold of.” He tips his head at me. “I’ll get Ellie to pick out a hat ready for the big day.”

      “You do that,” I say.

  He thinks I’m joking, I’m sure, and on some level I am. Making polite conversation for the sake of appearances. But it’s more than that.

      She’s becoming a part of my life.

      It feels beautiful, and that only makes me worry all the more.

      I tried her phone again.    

•

•

•

  VIOLET POV

I rush out through the college gates, sighing in relief to find his car in the usual spot. I throw myself into the passenger seat, full of sorry explanations.

      “I’m an idiot! I forgot my phone! I rushed out and left it there, right there by the bedside table! I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot.”

      He doesn’t say a word, just reverses the Mercedes out of the space and heads for home.

      I don’t know what else I can say, so I say nothing, just tap my fingers on my lunchbox.

      I wish he’d go crazy and tell me how angry he is, just to get it over with, but he doesn’t.

“I was worried,” he says, so simply.

      “I know,” I tell him. “I get it. I get how worried you’d be. I’m really sorry.”

      “Rushing is a fool’s errand, Violet. Carelessness leads nowhere good.”

      I tell him I know that, too. Tell him I’m sorry again.

      He says nothing else, just stares at the road ahead.

      I hate how it feels to disappoint him.

He pulls onto our driveway and parks up as usual. He opens the front door and steps inside as usual. Hangs his jacket up as usual.

And then he heads through to the sitting room. I follow him, hoping that maybe he’ll break the ice and tell me about his day, but he doesn’t.

      He unfastens his cufflinks as I watch, and rolls his cuffs back.

      My heart races, and I’m not even sure why. I just know that something’s brewing.

      That tickle between my legs again, but it’s faint under the nerves.

“Naughty girls need discipline, sweetheart. I told you what happens when you disregard the rules.”

      “Yes, Daddy,” I whisper. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

  “I’m sure you are,” he tells me and his voice is stern again, like it was when I was late this morning. “But sorry alone isn’t enough to learn your lesson, Violet. The rules are there for a reason, to keep you safe.”

      “I know, Daddy…” I feel so young again. Young and ditzy and awkward, barely like the horny little cow who took his cock all weekend.

      “You know that I have to do this.”

      I nod, because I do know, at least I think I do. It’s part of being taken care of, discipline. I’ve never had discipline, because I’ve never had anyone who cared enough. Not like he cares.

      Discipline means caring.

      The feeling in my heart makes more sense than the words sound in my head.

      He beckons me closer. I step forward so slowly. “Take off your jeans,” he says.

      My heart thumps. “Okay, Daddy.”

      My fingers fumble because they’re so shaky. I shimmy my jeans down my legs and step out of them, feeling so naughty as Daddy Spencer stares at me in just my knickers. He’s not smiling, not even a bit. His brows are so firm and serious.

 He takes a seat in the armchair, his back upright and knees rigid. He pats his lap, and my legs are wobbly as I step over to join him. “Over my knee,” he says.

      I’ve never been over someone’s knee before. I lower myself so tentatively, but he grabs me and hauls me into position, my ass raised so vulnerably on his lap. The shame makes me burn.

      I squeak as he tugs my knickers down. They bunch around my knees, and it feels so naughty I screw my eyes shut.

      “I’m doing this for your own good,” he tells me, and his palm brushes my bare thigh. “Your own good, and mine, too.” I manage another nod. “This is going to hurt,” he says, but I already know that.

      The first slap takes me by surprise even though it shouldn’t. I jolt forward on his lap, but he’s got me. His arm presses onto my back to hold me steady while his other hand spanks me, and it hurts. It really hurts.

      Daddy Spencer hits hard.

      “Ow!” I squeak. “Ow, ow, ow...”

      My little shrieks don’t do anything to put him off his stride. If anything it only makes him hit harder. It burns hot. Stings, too. Until the warmth begins to glow and tingle and my breathing slows from ragged gulps into long slow breaths.

      “Naughty, careless, reckless little girl,” he grunts, every word highlighted by a thwack of his palm.

      I squeal when he slaps my thighs, and that makes the burn start up afresh. My hair swishes around my face with every blow, and his knees press into my hips as I teeter on his lap.

      He tugs me closer for extra balance, and that’s when I feel him. Feel how hard he is.

      The burn on my ass spreads to my pussy. I want to clench my thighs but I don’t dare.

      He spreads my burning cheeks and I let out a gasp as his fingers slip round to my pussy.

      “Is Daddy’s punishment making you wet, Violet?” he asks. I’m not sure whether he wants me to be excited or not, so I don’t say a word. He finds out for himself, slipping a finger inside me and moving it in and out. I’m sure he’s left under no illusion. “Does making Daddy worried turn you on?”

      “No!” I squeal. “No, Daddy! I just…”

      “You just what?”

      “I just…” I struggle to find the words. “I just like how it feels…”

      He shifts underneath me. I guess that means he likes how it feels, too. His finger is still in my pussy, and I wish so hard he’d touch my clit and make me come.

      “You’re a naughty girl, Violet.”