Maid For Daddies.

Chapter 8

Leon.

The front door opened with a soft click. I heard the rustle of plastic bags first, then her footsteps. She carried the groceries straight to the kitchen, set them down and made her way to the living room threshold.

Once she entered, her eyes darted to Law on the sofa with his phone in hand, scrolling without looking up; then to Silas sprawled in the armchair, tablet balanced on one knee, earbud in one ear. Then to me.

I sat in the high-backed chair by the window.

She swallowed once.

“Hi,” she said, voice small. “I’m… back.”

“You’re late.”Law said without lifting his eyes.

Silas pulled the earbud out slowly, like he had all the time in the world. “By ten minutes.”

She took one step inside, hands clasped in front of her apron like a schoolgirl caught passing notes. “The car—it broke down. Just… stopped. On the side of the road. I didn’t know what was wrong, and this guy stopped to help, and by the time it started again—”

Law finally looked up. Cut her off with a single raised brow.

“The car is new,” he said, tone flat, bored. “Delivered last month with zero issues. You’re telling me it conveniently died the one time you’re on a deadline?”

She flinched. “I don’t know why. It just… went off. I tried restarting it on repeat. I checked the battery and hoses. Everything looked fine, and then it just—”

Silas snorted, setting the tablet aside. “Why didn’t you call?”

Her mouth opened, closed. “I… don’t have a phone.”

He leaned forward, elbows on knees, smirk faint but present. “You could’ve said that this morning when you got the card. And could’ve left the store early instead of window-shopping or staring at happy couples. Plenty of time to plan around not having a phone.”

“I wasn’t—” She stopped herself, cheeks going pinker. “I didn’t think—I mean, I thought I had enough time. I was careful. I swear.”

She shifted her weight, eyes flicking back to me again and again, like I was the judge and the executioner rolled into one.

I leaned forward slightly.

“You’re still late,” I said.

Her breath hitched. Just a tiny sound, but I heard it.

“Ten minutes past four. That’s ten minutes you stole from us. Again.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but the words died when our gazes locked. Her pupils dilated, shoulders drew in like she could make herself smaller. Her hands twisted tighter in the apron fabric.

She was terrified of me.

Fear like that is delicate and sweet when savored slowly. I could almost taste it from across the room the quick flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat, the way her lips trembled just enough to betray her.

I stood, slowly. Letting her watch every inch of the movement.

“At ten o’clock tonight,” I said, “you report to my office. The door will be open. You knock once. You enter and wait.”

Her eyes went impossibly wider.

I stepped closer.

“And Billie?” I murmured, letting my voice drop softer,“Don’t be late.”

She made a tiny sound.

I turned away first. Walked past her toward the hallway without another word.

~~~~~~~~~

Billie.

I made the sign of the cross, then rapped once on the heavy oak door. My knuckles barely made a sound. I pushed it open anyway.

Leon was already seated behind the wide desk, the glow of his laptop screen casting blue shadows across his sharp features. He didn’t look up at first. Just kept typing, my arrival was a minor interruption to him.

I closed the door behind me with a soft click that felt too loud in the quiet room.

“Sit,” he said.

I crossed the carpet on legs that felt like they belonged to someone else and lowered myself into the chair directly opposite him. The desk between us was polished dark wood. My hands went to my lap, fingers twisting the hem of my skirt.

He reached out without looking away from the screen and pushed something across the desk toward me.

A gold case, crisp dark face Rolex.

“Hold that.”

I picked it up. The metal was cool and surprisingly weighty. I cradled it in both palms.

My eyes darted, first to the bookshelves lining the walls, leather spines and glass-fronted cabinets; then to the single tall window behind him, curtains drawn against the night; then to the framed map on the far wall, pins stuck in places I didn’t recognize.

“Eyes ahead.”

The command came soft, but it snapped my gaze back like a leash.

He was looking at me now.

I froze.

“On me,” he added, quieter still.

I nodded once and locked my eyes on his. My heart thudded so loud I was sure he could hear it. He was terrifying up close like this. Every line of his face carved with the kind of patience that made you wonder how long he could wait before he decided to ruin you.

“Let your hair down.”

My fingers moved before my brain caught up. I reached back, pulled the pins from my bun one by one. Dark strands spilled over my shoulders. I shook my head once to let it fall free around my face.

His gaze followed the motion tracking every inch as my hair settled.

I looked away, couldn’t help it. The intensity was too much.

“Eyes on me.”

I snapped them back.

There was the faintest ghost of a smirk at the corner of his mouth, gone so fast I might have imagined it. Then he returned to his laptop, fingers moving over the keys again like nothing had happened.

“Move the chair closer.”

My stomach flipped. I gripped the arms of the chair, scooted it forward inch by inch until my knees almost brushed the edge of the desk. The space between us shrank to something intimate.

I opened my mouth. “What… um …my punishment?”

“Stop asking questions.”He said without looking at me.

Silence fell. I tried to focus on breathing but my eyes kept wanting to wander: to the watch in my hands, to the shadows on the wall, to anything but him.

“Eyes ahead.”

I jerked my gaze back to his face.

He was beautiful in a way that made it worse. He had a sharp jaw, dark eyes, the kind of symmetry that looked almost unreal. Not like Law, who had that cold, precise edge, or Silas, all coiled muscle and rough charm. Leon was different.

They might not even be related, I thought suddenly.

Who were they, really?

He looked up.

I startled, visibly flinched.

“Bring the watch.”

I started to slide it across the desk.

“I said bring, not toss.”

I stood, walked around the desk on unsteady feet, and stopped beside his chair. Close enough he could reach out and touch me if he wanted.

I held the Rolex out to him, palm up.

He took it slowly, fingers brushing mine for the barest second. Deliberate and accidental? I couldn’t tell.

“Good girl.” He whispered.

That was oddly satisfying, it landed somewhere I didn’t want to examine too closely.

I swallowed hard.

He fastened the watch back on his wrist, then leaned back in his chair, eyes lifting to mine again.

“Ten minutes late,” he said quietly. “That’s all this is tonight. Ten minutes of your time. You stand here. You hold still. You look at me. No questions. No fidgeting. No looking away. That was your punishment.”

He paused, letting the words settle.

“Do not disobey orders, Billie.”

“Yes, I will not.” I muttered.

His gaze held mine a second longer.

Then he turned back to the laptop.

“You can go. ”

I turned and walked out.

~~~~~

I drifted to the kitchen. Leftover pasta sat covered in the fridge, a simple marinara. I heated a bowl in the microwave and ate standing at the counter. The food tasted like nothing, but it filled the hollow ache in my chest. When the bowl was empty, I washed it by hand, staring out the wide window above the sink.

Headlights cut through the dark outside.

A silver sedan rolled slowly up the long driveway. My breath caught. I knew that car!

The same brown-haired man stepped out, hoodie up against the night chill. He walked straight toward the house.

Law met him halfway across the lawn. They spoke briefly, I couldn’t make out what they talked about through the glass. A quick handshake, a nod, then the man turned and drove off without looking back.

My heart kicked hard.

The front door opened a minute later. Law stepped inside. I walked out of the kitchen to meet him.

“How do you know that man?” I asked.

Law paused, hands inside his pocket “None of your business.”

I narrowed my eyes, stepping closer. “He’s the one who ‘helped’ me when the car died. The same car that’s supposedly brand-new and never has issues. Did you sabotage it? So I’d be late? So you could punish me?”

A slow, almost lazy smile curved his mouth.

“Let’s just say timing is everything,” he said softly. “And sometimes a little… encouragement helps the lesson stick.”

Before I could think, my hand flew up, open palm aimed straight for his cheek.

He caught my wrist mid-air.

I froze.

“I don’t hit women,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t hurt the people you care about.”

I yanked once. “I’m alone,” I spat. “If you’re talking about Brian, go ahead. You’d be doing me a favor.”

His smirk deepened.

He leaned in, close.

“Everyone has something they care about, Billie,” he murmured. “Even if they haven’t realized it yet.”

The words landed like ice water down my spine. My frown deepened, confusion twisting with the anger.

He released my wrist slowly. I stepped back fast, rubbing the spot where his fingers had been.

I turned without another word and half-ran—up the stairs to the guest room. Door shut, my back pressed to the wood, breathing hard.

I slid down to the floor, knees to my chest.

He was right.

I was alone.

But the way he’d said it, like h

e already knew exactly what weak spot to press, exactly what thread to pull—

made it feel too real.

What did I have left to lose?

And why did it feel like they were already holding it in their hands?