Chapter 9
Darius's POV
"Open the fucking door before I break it down, Allison!" I scream in sheer frustration from the other side. Why does she have to make everything so difficult? The truth is, I don't know what to do with this girl.
I can hear her sobbing on the other end, her tiny voice pitiable. Rebecca stands beside me, watching, anticipating what typical Darius will do.
"Please... Excuse us?" I nudge her, disappointment forming a frown on her freckled face.
"Buenos senôr. But if you need me to give her a good spanking, I'll be right outside the door." Rebecca promises with a nod, prompting a smile from me.
As soon as she leaves, I do what is expected of me: I break down the door. I have to make sure Allison fears me; I must break her will.
With force prepared in my right leg and my other leg rooted firmly into the ground, I kick the door open, hoping her back isn't against it. I don't wish to hurt her physically.
The door bounces open from its hinges, revealing Allison hugging her knees to her chest, staring at me with every muscle in her reddened eyes. I've seen people shocked and distressed by my presence, yet I've never been so affected by such a passionate gaze. A gaze I completely ignore.
"Get on your feet now!" I command her. Without giving her a chance to reply or obey, I pull her up by the arm roughly and turn the shower on with both of us under it.
She fights me, throwing effortless punches with her other fist. She even tries to kick me, but the floor is slippery from the shower's splatter. "Nooooo! Stoooop! Fuck you! Fuck you...!" She screams, her voice reverberating through the house. "Someone help! Help me! Somebody help! Nooooooo! Stoooooop!.... Please..." Her voice breaks like that of a trapped mouse.
I ignore her. I can't let her see any form of sympathy from me, especially with Rebecca just outside the door. I need to be feared. I must prove to the underworld that my daughter has not made me weak and that she is my strength instead.
I should hit Allison to keep her quiet, but instead, I tear her shirt open, knowing the shock will nearly kill her. I'm right; she shuts up instantly, using her free hand to keep the shred on her body, her eyes wide with pleas.
Her skin makes me swallow in awe. I've never seen such soft, flawless, delicious olive skin. Only her shoulders and the V of her chest down to her belly are visible to my gaze. The silky pink pajamas cling to her skin, revealing her perfectly shaped breasts, with nipples that make my mouth water.
I'd be a monster to pull her clothes down completely. But I am a monster, not just today. Especially with the way she's looking at me now, her pride crumbled at her feet.
"Take a shower... Let Rebecca help you out. Don't make me come back here, or I won't be as gentle and generous as I am now."
Without a word, just a woman trembling to keep the pieces of her shattered pride, she nods to me, keeping her gaze at her feet, shivering under the cold water pouring down on her mercilessly.
I abandon her in the bathroom, knowing I've succeeded in stripping the thinnest layer of her courage. I know I had said she was inexperienced, but with what I've seen in her, her mother did prepare her for the underworld, my world. I'm certain if Allison had gone out more, had a boyfriend, seen the world up close, had sex, learned the art of seduction... she might even appeal to me, and I might want to use her for my personal pleasure. But she's so fragile, so young, so innocent to me. I admit her feisty side appeals to me a little, but without it, I'd like to see what remains of her, though I know it'll be hard to quell her fire. She's a freaking redhead.
This is going to be hard for me. Perhaps I should just sell Allison to one of our clients, yet I know I wouldn't be able to live with myself. I leave Allison's room, nodding to Rebecca to take over from where I stopped.
It's time to see my daughter. I haven't met with the governess yet, but according to Zain, she's experienced and meets all my requirements for a suitable governess for my daughter. Most importantly, she's middle-aged. I've seen the woman's CV, and she seems interesting, a mother of three, one of whom is autistic. She already started working with Dora, as I've seen on the hidden camera I put in Dora's room.
Even now, I watch from my phone as the woman points to colored boxes on the table, touching them gently as she patiently waits for Dora to identify the colors. There's a guard in and out of Dora's room, female bodyguards dressed simply to blend in. Everyone is extra careful around my daughter, as a tear from her can push me to make very wrong choices.
In the morning, after having breakfast and completely ignoring Allison's presence in the house, or what I have planned for her today, I reach the door to Dora's room and nod to the guard outside. She opens the door and lets me in, my presence instantly causing my daughter's face to light up and vice versa.
Unlike other children, Dora does not like to be touched too much. Instead, we have our greeting technique: a smile, a nod, a small tilt of our heads in alternate directions. Sometimes she shows me something she has painted, her favorite toy, and sometimes she lets me hug her for a second on her very good days. I love my daughter. And when it comes to her ability to discern, or her brilliance with numbers, it's something else entirely.
"Dora, my princess..." We greet each other, then I look to the governess who sees no awkwardness in Dora or our method of greeting.
"Mr. Hunter." The governess acknowledges me with a professional, yet friendly smile. She looks somewhat like Rebecca, except a few years younger. In her late forties, I presume.
"Good day, Mrs. Rachel. Welcome to my home." I greet her with an even better smile. If only the woman could read my thoughts, she would see how truly distrustful I am of her, how I am assessing every detail of her like someone with an obsessive-compulsive disorder. I even notice a pearl in her necklace that's slightly chipped. Her eyes are tired from lack of sleep; no amount of foundation can hide that, or her rectangular non-medicated glasses. Don't ask me how I know, but little miss has secrets, and I will find out in due time.
"Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Hunter. It's my pleasure. I must say you're lucky to have such a unique daughter. She is amazing!" The woman wheezes excitedly, causing Dora to frown a little. My poor baby must see that the woman is way too excited for a normal person.
"You're making her uncomfortable." I tilt my head to Dora, the woman throwing a glance at my baby in confusion, not sure of her mistake. "Be natural; she sees through you." I advise the woman, winking at Dora, who simply blinks in approval.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry, Dora." Rachel apologizes efficiently, her smile not faltering.
"So Dora... Do you like her?" Knowing my daughter, I ask callously, waiting for her to drop the honest truth, not delivering it with any shred of subtlety.
"She's nice." Dora starts, her baby voice filling the room, a song to my ears. I wish she'd stay five forever, the same way I'd wished she'd remained two forever. "But..." Aha, here it comes. Even Rachel and the guard in the room shift uncomfortably. "Her clothes are dirty. She wears too much jewelry and she had garlic for breakfast. She laughs too much, and it makes me uncomfortable. Apart from that, she's a good governess. She can teach me if she takes care of her hygiene."
Harsh. Very harsh, brilliant, yet funny. I turn to Rachel, who still has her smile in place, not dented by Dora's words. Now that's a first. As a matter of fact, I'm impressed by the woman's patience; perhaps we have found the one.
"Forgive me, dear..."
"Dora." Dora interrupts Rachel's apology." Only daddy calls me dear. My name is Dora." She repeats, completely catching the woman off guard. Yet I see that the woman finds Dora's correction amusing and takes note so as not to repeat the mistake.
"Noted. Dora. Forgive my appearance, and my unorthodox way of laughing. Forgive my breakfast too. They will all be corrected from our next meeting." Rachel promises Dora with a firm nod that earns a raised brow and a smile from me.
"Okay, sweetie. Rebecca will be with you in a jiffy. I need to talk with your governess if you don't mind."
Dora frowns at me. "It's not an hour yet...! I am not done with my class! It has to be an hour!"
Oh boy. I forgot. I check my watch and roll my eyes discreetly. It's only three minutes to an hour. So, I wait for three minutes to pass, then I nod to Rachel, blow Dora a kiss before we leave her room for my office.
"Okay, Rachel. Who do you work for?" I go straight to the point, scaring the woman on purpose.
With fear and forced confusion in her gaze, I can tell she might be suspicious of my business, especially with the magnificence of my house and the number of armed guards around me, yet she plays ignorant. "For you, sir." She says wittily, her eyes tingling.
"Hmm... Good answer."