The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) π
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I look up at him with every ounce of fake contrition I can muster. βDo I get detention?β
He chuckles. βOh, little girl, I have something far worse than detention planned for you.β
I nearly jump him right there in the middle of the embarkation lounge. βPlease, tell me? Sir, please?β
βNo, youβll have to be patient, greedy baby. Youβve had your own way all day today, but youβre in the doghouse now, so Daddy will tell you when heβs good and ready.β At my pout, he shakes his head and says, βTime to get changed for dinner, mischief maker. Cocktails at the captainβs table start at six. I realize you only finished eating lunch two hours agoββ
I stick my tongue out at him.
He pulls me tight to him and lets me feel the hard bar of his arousal against my stomach. βStick that tongue out at me again tonight and Iβll clamp it. You want to sit at the captainβs table with your tongue clamped so everyone can see what a cheeky, disrespectful girl youβve been?β
βNo, Sir.β Iβm immediately repentant and remorseful. For real. I wasnβt disrespecting him. Just being playful. I immediately drop to my knees, and then bow so my forehead touches one of his oxblood lace-ups. βSorry, Sir.β
βCount to sixty, Emily. Then stand and try that apology again.β
βYes, Sir.β I shuffle a little to get in a position I can hold for that long. Then I start counting, quietly but aloud, so he can hear me.
As Iβm reaching the thirties, another pair of menβs shoes appears in my peripheral vision. These are black, scuffed, and thick-soled. βLogan,β the man says, with a very slight German accent.
βMichael,β Logan responds, and I feel him shift his weight as the men shake hands over my head.
βAnd this dear girl on a time-out, is this Emily?β the man asks.
βIt is. When sheβs had a minute to remember how to be respectful, sheβs going to stand and apologize and then Iβll introduce you.β
βExcellent, excellent. I understand youβre joining us at the captainβs table tonight. Iβll introduce you to my wife, Teresa. Have you met Captain Lopez yet?β
βNo, not yet.β Logan pauses as I finish counting. βEmily, are you ready to give me a proper apology?β
βYes, Sir,β I whimper.
βStand, put your hands behind your back, and apologize.β
Despite the embarrassment of having to apologize in front of an audience, I do, clasping my hands behind me and keeping my head down, eyes lowered. βIβm very sorry I stuck my tongue out at you, Sir. I didnβt mean to be disrespectful.β
βBetter,β Logan says. My heart clenches; he hasnβt called me his good girl. I look up at him anxiously. Heβs watching me, not smiling, but his eyes are black, crackling with fire. The heat in them burns away my fear. Heβs aroused, not angry. βTurn around and curtsey to Dr. Michael Lehmann. Hands behind your back.β
I turn and curtsey to the fifty-something man behind me. Heβs wearing black chinos with a heavy silver belt and a charcoal, button-down shirt. He looks like any of the passengers, and I wonder if heβs off-duty.
I wonder whether he wears a pink thong when heβs not.
βItβs nice to meet you, Dr. Lehmann,β I say. βIβm Emily Martin.β
He nods instead of shaking, which is good because Loganβs closed his hand around my wrists and is holding them crossed at the small of my back. I donβt think heβs letting go any time soon, either. God, so domly. I settle into his hold, the way Iβve been taught, letting my shoulders relax.
βItβs a pleasure to meet you, Emily.β
βMichaelβs the staff doctor whoβs assisting the investigation,β Logan says to me. βHeβs sailing with us as far as Cabo.β
I nod and give the doctor a hesitant smile. He smiles back, white teeth in a square face edged by a grey-touched beard. βIf you need anything while youβre aboard, Emily, come and find me. My office is on deck four, room five-fifty-two. Do you know how to find the room numbers on the ship?β
I shake my head and look to Logan, who shakes his head, too.
βCome, let me show you.β
The doctor leads us over to a closed door behind the Puerto Vallarta excursions kiosk. He points to a small, silver plaque at the bottom of the door frame on the right side. The plaque is etched with numbers: 377.
βEvery room on the ship has a number. Theyβre numbered sequentially, not by deck like the cabins. Do you understand?β
I nod. βThank you, Dr. Lehmann.β
βYouβre very welcome. Iβll look forward to seeing you two at dinner.β
The doctor shakes Loganβs hand again before he leaves us.
βHave you ever been on a ship this big, Sir?β I ask Logan as he steers me towards the stairs by my wrists.
βNo. Itβs a monster, isnβt it? I served on subs and gunboats. Theyβre small by necessity.β He gestures to the distant ceiling as we start up the stairs. The lounge is massive: three floors high and so wide it didnβt feel crowded with two hundred plus passengers gathered for the orientation. βLots of space to explore. Lots of places to get lost in, so when youβre not in the cabin, I expect you to always carry your phone, Emily.β
βYes, Sir.β Itβs an easy promise to make since I always carry it with me.
βI wonβt be able to answer my phone all the time. Especially not when Iβm doing interviews,β Logan explains as we climb the stairs. βBut Iβll keep it on vibrate and carry it here.β He pats his breast pocket. βYouβll always be able to reach me.β
βThank you, Sir.β I smile up at him, so he knows how much it means to me to always be able to reach my daddy.
* * *
When we get back to the cabin, Logan dresses me again, taking a white dress from the closet in his room, which he
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