The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (i love reading txt) 📗

flops everywhere despite the braids Laurel has worked along my crown. Daddy scoops it off my face with a chuckle.

“Me, too. I can’t wait to see my collar around your neck and know that I’ve locked it there and only I will ever take it off.”

I blink hard and sniff because I don’t want to burst into tears when Daddy’s about to go out with his Dom friends, but whenever he talks about the foreverness of my collar, I feel myself well up. Daddy smiles and kisses the tip of my nose.

“Is Daddy overdoing the mushy stuff?”

“No, Daddy. I’m just emotional.”

“I’m glad you’re emotional, baby doll. I am, too. This is a big deal and I want us both to feel it. So, no hiding from Daddy. If you get too emotional while I’m gone, you send me a text. Otherwise, I’ll be back to give you a huge snuggle at midnight.”

“Okay, Daddy, see you then.” I wriggle under him and give him a tight hug. He kisses me a final time before backing out of the blanket fort.

I fall asleep in the blanket fort after watching Mulan and eating handfuls of popcorn and scooting around in the fort so I can talk to everyone.

I’m jostled awake when strong arms lift me off the pile of pillows I fell asleep in. I immediately know it’s not Daddy by the scent and grab the man’s shoulders even as I look up into bright blue eyes.

“I’ve got you, Emmy,” Master Mac says.

“Where’s Daddy?”

“Righ’ here, baby doll,” Daddy slurs from behind Master Mac as he carries me towards the stairs. “Jus’ not steady enough to lift you.”

Poor Daddy. I don’t know if it’s injury that’s bothering him or if he’s just had too much to drink, but I’m grateful to him for arranging a Mac-lift. I rest my head on Master Mac’s shoulder as he carries me upstairs.

Mac settles me on the bed in our suite. Daddy stumbles into the bathroom and flicks the light on, sending warm light slanting through the room.

“Did Daddy drink too much?” I ask Master Mac.

Mac grins as he offers me a bottle of water from the night table, which I take and sip.

“I think we got him drinking more than he expected. He’s definitely had too many to carry you upstairs and he’ll probably want something greasy for breakfast, but he’ll be fine. I wouldn’t let him get so hammered he won’t enjoy the collaring.”

“Thank you, Master Mac.”

He pats me on my head. “Good night, Em. Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams, sir.”

Mac crosses the suite and pokes his head into the bathroom. “You gonna hurl?”

“No,” Daddy grumbles. “But I can’t believe I let the two of you talk me into whiskey shots.”

Mac chuckles. “Puts hair on your chest, son. Now show me this thing so I can go to bed.”

“Ge’ Niall,” Daddy says. I’ve never heard him slur from drink before and it’s funny, but I clap my hand over my mouth because I don’t want Daddy to think I’m laughing at him.

While I get undressed and scoot under the covers, Mac ducks out into the hallway. When he returns, Niall follows him. Daddy emerges from the bathroom, shirtless, with a damp towel slung around his neck. I drool a little. Even though Daddy and I have been together for months, seeing him bare always stuns me. My daddy’s just all the hot.

Daddy opens the top drawer in an antique, wooden dresser with a flourish. Niall and Mac peer inside.

“What are we lookin’ at?” Niall asks.

Daddy turns his head, does a double-take, and nearly sticks his head into the drawer. “What the fuck? I left it in here. Emmy, you didn’t take a velvet box out of here, did you?”

“No, Daddy. I haven’t been in that drawer at all.”

Daddy shuts the drawer and opens it again. By his expression, the drawer remains empty. “Fuck.”

Niall claps Daddy on the shoulder. “No worries, eh? We’ll look for it in the morning. It’ll turn up.”

Daddy closes the drawer and rubs his hands over his face. “You’re right.”

“G’night, wanker.” Niall slaps Daddy on the shoulder again before he leaves.

“Gobshite,” Daddy says after him; even though I know it’s an insult, it holds no heat and I think Daddy means it affectionately.

“Good night, son. Congratulations.” Mac gives Daddy a hug, which Daddy returns, and they thump each other on the back. Mac leaves, closing the door behind him.

Confident whatever Daddy was going to show Niall and Mac will turn up in the morning, when Daddy remembers where he put it since I haven’t taken anything out of that drawer, I take a final sip of water, cap the bottle, and cuddle down in the bed. Daddy joins me a moment later, curling his warm body around mine.

“G’night, my sweet baby. I’m a liddle drunk, but I still love you more than I ever imagined possible.”

“Good night, Daddy, my forever-daddy. I love you more.”

Daddy chuckles into my hair. “Not possible.”

“I think it is.”

We fall asleep still bickering over who loves who more. While I can’t imagine Daddy loves me more than the welling, swelling, crushing, mushing tenderness I feel for him, this isn’t an argument I feel compelled to win. We’re both winners.

Chapter Six Logan

In the morning, while Emmy’s in the bath with her arms wrapped in plastic to avoid wetting the beautiful henna Vashi’s done on her, I ransack the room with a hangover snarling in my sinus and rumbling through my gut.

The velvet box with Emily’s collar and diamond-studded lock is missing.

I know I left it in that dresser drawer. I know it in my bones. But I had a head injury not so many months ago and, although I haven’t had any memory loss since leaving the hospital, my doctors warned me that it’s common with my type of head injury. So, I check and check and check again, every spot I think I could have put the box in. Nothing.

I try to hide my concern, and my hangover, from