Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 34295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
I dial Roman instead.
"I know you said you can't give me her info, but I'm asking again anyway," I growl as soon as he answers. "I need to know she's okay. If you want to call her with me on the phone to protect her privacy, I'll settle for that, but I need to know she's okay."
"I can—"
"I never ask for anything, Roman." I grip the steering wheel. "But I'm asking for this."
"You don't need to—"
"Just call her. Please."
"Would you stop interrupting and let me speak? Jesus Christ, Micah," Roman growls, amusement lacing his tone. "I'm trying to tell you that I just spoke to Corey Fulton about your girl."
"Where is she?" I growl, my heart thudding against my breastbone.
"Stop whatever you're doing and get your ass home because she's there right now."
"Jesus." I flip a U-Turn in the middle of the road, ignoring the gray minivan that blares the horn at me as if I'm in danger of striking it. I'm not. It's not even remotely close to me. And then I hit the gas. The R8 shoots forward, the speedometer quickly climbing. "I'm on my way."
"He had another message for you."
"Tell me," I growl.
"If you break her heart, he's going to break both of your legs."
"Not going to happen."
"Didn't think so," Roman chuckles. "Good luck."
"Thank you." I blow out a breath. "Seriously, thank you."
"Anytime." Roman disconnects, leaving me in silence with my racing thoughts. Davina is at my house.
What the fuck?
"Little girl," I whisper, "when I get my fucking hands on you, you're not going to be able to sit down for a week."
Not even five minutes later, I pull up outside of the mansion I call home. It's far too fucking big for me. This house was built for a family. No. I built it for her. Even when I thought she was a figment of my imagination, I was preparing for her. Not even two weeks after I saw her on campus, we broke ground on this place.
Every brick, every tile, every piece of furniture, every thread of silk and cotton…they were all meticulously chosen with her in mind. The floor-to-ceiling windows flood the open layout with natural light and frame the delicate flower beds and koi pond. The wide-open spaces inside the mansion reflect the room we have to grow together—a symbol of how fucking deeply I yearned to make this her home.
My heart stutters to a stop when I see her curled up on the front step, her arms wrapped around herself, her head resting against a column. She looks so tiny and miserable it makes my fucking heart ache.
I kill the engine, climbing from the car, unable to take my eyes off her.
She hasn't noticed me yet. Her eyes are closed, her head tipped back. She isn't sleeping, though. I think she's lost in her own head.
I have a feeling this beautiful little conundrum spends a whole lot of time lost. The world is far too fucking big for her to be on her own. She's a Little in every sense of the word—innocent, pure, and desperately in need of someone to anchor her and keep her secure. Without it, life and the world feel overwhelming to her. That truth is written all over her.
She's been adrift for a long time. Perhaps that's why she ran. It's what she knows—running, drifting, never quite fitting, or understanding why the world is so fucking exhausting to her. She wasn't made to worry. She was made for laughter and sunshine. She needs a Daddy, not because she isn't capable of taking care of herself, but because she's been taking care of herself for far too long already.
I slam the car door, waiting for her to notice me.
She startles, her eyes flying open. As soon as they land on me, they go wide. She's so fucking cute as she leaps to her feet as if I just caught her trying to break into my house instead of sitting patiently on the front step.
"Daddy!" She practically bolts down the sidewalk toward me, her tits bouncing in her cute little dress. And that dress… fuck. It's the perfect shade of denim, exactly like her eyes. The flared bottom dances around her thick thighs, teasing the shit out of me.
She stumbles to a stop in front of me, her hands behind her back, her gaze crawling all over me. She's so fucking shy and sweet suddenly, as if she just remembered that she snuck out of bed this morning and isn't sure what to do now that she's standing in front of me.
"Come here, little girl." I point to a spot directly in front of me—one that will put her within grabbing distance.
She keeps her head down as she shuffles forward, stopping directly on the spot I indicated, standing toe to toe with me.