Chapter 20

Hannah

He glanced over his shoulder at me. "Where do you live, Hannah?"

The question caught me off guard. "Um, why do you want to know?"

"Because I'll be driving you home later and want to know where I'm going." He pressed down on the French press plunger, his forearm flexing in a way that made my mouth go dry. "Unless you'd prefer to stay another night?"

"No, I should go home. I have things to do."

"Address, then?" he prompted, pouring the coffee into a mug.

I gave him my address, explaining that it was a small apartment building near campus, nothing special.

"A small apartment?" He wrinkled his nose slightly. "That won't do."

"What do you mean, 'won't do'?" I asked, pushing my empty plate away.

He took a sip of his coffee, making a small noise of satisfaction before answering. "I'll set you up in a luxury penthouse. You'll also need a car, designer clothes, jewelry... everything a woman like you deserves."

I blinked at him, certain I'd misheard. "A penthouse? A car? Are you serious?"

"Deadly." His face was completely straight, not a hint of humor. "I take care of what's mine. And for as long as our arrangement lasts, you're mine."

My heart pounded in my chest. This was moving way too fast. "That's extremely generous, but I can't accept all that."

"Why not?" He seemed genuinely confused, as if he couldn't fathom why someone would refuse such gifts.

"Because..." I scrambled for a reason that wouldn't sound ungrateful. "I'd prefer to keep my sugar dating private from my mother and friends. People will ask questions if I suddenly move into a penthouse and start driving around in some luxury car."

He considered this, taking another sip of his coffee. "Fair point."

"I'd like to keep my apartment," I continued, warming to my argument. "But I could visit the penthouse according to our schedules. And I could keep the car there too, use it when I need it." I didn't mention that I hadn't driven in months because I couldn't afford a car.

He studied me over the rim of his coffee cup. "You're not like most sugar babies I've had. They usually can't wait to move into the penthouses I offer."

"I'm not most sugar babies," I replied, lifting my chin slightly.

A slow smile spread across his face. "No, you certainly aren't." He set down his cup and crossed to where I sat. "Very well. Keep your apartment. The penthouse and car will be yours to use whenever you wish. No strings attached."

"Thank you, Daddy." The words felt like honey on my tongue, sweet and addictive.

Leonardo's eyes darkened as he looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on my wrinkled dress from last night. "Why are you still wearing these clothes? There's a full wardrobe in there with clothes in various sizes." He gestured toward the bedroom. "Or if none of those appeal to you, I can have something else brought up."

I glanced down at my rumpled dress, suddenly self-conscious. "I'll wear something from the closet. Whatever's there is fine."

"No," he said firmly, pulling out his phone. "I want to see you in something new."

Before I could protest, he was dialing a number. "James? I need a selection of women's clothing delivered to my suite immediately." He rattled off a series of sizes without hesitation, then added specific instructions about styles and brands. "And make sure there's appropriate footwear. Yes, within the hour."

I stared at him as he ended the call. "How do you know my sizes? I never told you."

A smirk played across his lips. "Observation. It's a skill I've honed over many years."

My stomach clenched. How many women had he "observed" to get so good at guessing sizes? How many sugar babies had come before me, parading around in clothes he'd bought them, sleeping in his bed, calling him Daddy?

The jealousy that flared up caught me off guard. What the hell was I doing feeling possessive over a man I'd just met? This was a business arrangement, not a relationship. He was my sugar daddy, not my boyfriend. Still, the thought of him with other women made my skin prickle uncomfortably.

"You look displeased," Leonardo noted, his voice amused. "Care to share what's on your mind?"

I forced a smile. "Just wondering how many women you've had to look at to become such an expert on female sizing."

"Jealous already? We've only just begun."

"I'm not jealous," I lied, feeling my cheeks heat up. "Just curious about your... expertise."

"My expertise extends to many areas," he said, his voice dropping to a silky tone that weakened my knees. "As you discovered last night."

Memories of what we'd done flooded my mind, and I felt a rush of heat between my legs. The way he'd commanded my body, the things he'd made me feel...

"While we wait for your clothes," Leonardo continued, adjusting his cuffs, "I should tell you I'll show you the penthouse today. And your new car. I'll make sure the penthouse is stocked with clothing I'd like to see you in and some items more suited to your personal taste. For when I'm not around."

"And when will you be around?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"Whenever I want to be." His voice was firm, brooking no argument. "That's part of our arrangement, isn't it? Your time is mine when I require it."

I nodded, remembering the terms we'd discussed. "Yes, Daddy."

His hand cupped my face, my thumb brushing over my bottom lip. "Such a good girl, remembering how to address me."

My breath caught in my throat. How did he do this? Turn me into a quivering mess with just a touch and a few words?

"I want you to understand something, Hannah," he said, his voice low and intense. "When you're with me, you're mine. Completely. I'll provide everything you need. Clothes, cars, housing, money. But in return, I expect your full compliance. Is that clear?"

I swallowed hard. "Yes, Daddy."

"Good girl." He rewarded me with a brief, hard kiss that left me wanting more. "Now, finish your coffee. James will be here soon with your clothes, and I want to see you try them on."

The authority in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. This man was used to giving orders and having them obeyed without question. For some reason, I wanted to please him and be the "good girl" he called me.

What was happening to me? I'd never been submissive in my life. I'd always been independent and stubborn. But something about Leonardo Salvatore made me want to yield, to surrender.

I sipped my coffee, watching him over the rim of my cup as he moved around the suite, making calls and checking his watch. Even in these mundane activities, he exuded power and control. His movements were precise and deliberate. Nothing was wasted.

My bank account might be pathetically low, but at this moment, I felt like the richest woman in the world. I had the attention of this powerful, dangerous man. He wanted me. He was willing to spend thousands, maybe tens of thousands, on me.

And all I had to do was call him Daddy and let him fuck me whenever he wanted.

It should have felt degrading. It should have made me feel cheap. But instead, I felt a strange sense of power. This man, who could have anyone, wanted me.