The day welcomes us with sun on a cloudless sky. Raphaelle's arms are wrapped around me in the pool. I nestle closer to him, inhaling the scent of his skin mingled with the chlorine.

"I love you," I murmur softly, the words barely a whisper against his chest.

He tightens his hold on me, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on my back. "I love you. I didn't know this love was possible. I've never... not like this," he murmurs back.

I've wandered for so long, searching for something I couldn't name, but now I know that it was him all along. It was this, us, the dynamic, everything about this. I just need to find ways to let that wall down, to let the shame go. And I'm getting better. I mean, I'm wearing a princess themed bikini, pink, and I'm still smiling. That's a step in the right direction, I hope.

"I've never felt this way before either," I admit, though I know he already knows that. 

He presses a kiss to the top of my head, his lips warm and tender against my hair. "I know. One of the many things I love about you," he whispers, his breath stirring the strands around my face. "I could go on and on about how I'm the only one who'll ever make you feel this way. To love you, cherish you, touch you. It's driving me insane, baby."

I flush, swimming away. This is getting too much. But he chases after me, pulling me back into his embrace.

"You don't get to hide away from daddy," he whispers. "I love it when you blush. It's cute."

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching mine. "You're beautiful."

"I want you so badly right now," he confesses. "And I'm being honest, it's hard to resist you, but I'm going to. I'm willingly accepting blue balls for you. You know what that means, right?"

I can sense his humor. At times it's so dry, it's ridiculous. 

I reach up to touch his face, tracing the line of his jaw with trembling fingers. "You're the worst at making jokes."

"Maybe. But I'm good at loving you."

He leans down to press his lips to mine. Our kiss breaks and I nod, "you are. Very good." 

The warmth of the sun caresses our skin, but it can't compare to the heat that I feel radiating from him. 

"Are you happy?" He asks, his hand brushes against my cheek. 

I nod, "I am. I... you make me the happiest. I mean, look at me," I giggle. "I would never have been comfortable wearing this around anyone else." 

"I know. Baby steps," he replies, "but I'm super proud of you."

I smile, blushing. Hearing that he's proud of me is right under 'good girl' on the list of things I absolutely love to hear. It makes me tingly and fuzzy within. I am truly seen with him, truly understood. He accepts me for who I am, flaws and all. Nobody's ever done that before. Except my mother. But she's been gone for far too long. The thought is suffocating. 

"What's wrong?" He asks. I smile, but it's not a happy smile. "My mom... I... I just miss her." 

His gaze meets mine, his eyes soft and sympathetic. "She misses you, too. I promise. Wherever she is. She misses you. And she loves you. And she's proud of you as well." 

My tears escape, I can't hold them in. "Oh, baby..." he breathes, cupping my cheeks, kissing my forehead. 

He lets me cry, accepting the tears he hates so much. 

"I'll go get the unicorn. You can play and have fun for a while. And daddy'll be on the sunbed. Hm?"

I shake my head. "No. Stay." 

Raphaelle's arms tighten around me, "then you've gotta stop crying. I can't stand you crying. And I know you, baby. You want that unicorn. Your eyes light up whenever I mention it," he murmurs, adoration peeking through. "No shame. Remember? You're perfect as you are." 

I let my eyes get lost in his, chocolaty hazel, dark, his. Him. I'm lost in him. And I love every second of it. I love him. 

There's an intensity in his eyes that both scares and enthralls me. I never knew love could be as unconditional as the one I've found in him. It's an intense thing. Beautiful, but intense. 

"I'm sorry," I whisper, "I didn't mean to ruin the moment."

He shakes his head, a small, understanding smile playing on his lips. "You didn't ruin anything, baby," he murmurs, his thumb brushing away the tears that still linger on my cheeks. "But seriously. The unicorn? I gotta make a few calls. I have business."

I lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm against my skin. "Okay," I breathe, already missing his touch, though it's still on me. "But you'll stay by the pool?"

Having him close is better than having him far. 

He pulls me closer, "yes, baby. I'll be on the sunbed."

I close my eyes, letting myself melt into him completely. I feel so safe... cherished. It's a feeling I never want to let go.

"I'll go get the unicorn. I'll be right back, baby."

I nod, "thank you." I reply, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought of it, even if it's just a silly inflatable toy.

Raphaelle releases me from his embrace, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead before getting out of the pool. He shakes his head, the water dripping off of his muscular frame. It's a sight to behold. And it happens, as if in slo-mo. My cheeks flush. Gosh... he makes me feel ways nobody else have, that nobody else ever will. 

I swim towards the edge of the pool, waiting for him to return. I watch him as he collects the unicorn, making me giggle like last time. It really doesn't suit him. 

And as he squats down, I reach out to grab hold of its rainbow-colored mane. "Fank you!" I squeal. 

He smiles, ruffling my wet hair. "You're slipping into little space faster and with less reluctance every time," he muses to himself. "Have fun, baby." 

I float on the unicorn in the pool,  laughing. Raphaelle shifts between watching me, eyes warm and with a smile on his face, and having phone calls, looking like the Capo that he is. He scares me whenever that cold look etches his face. 

I dash through the water, the unicorn bobbing up and down I hold onto it  tightly. I giggle and splash around, enjoying myself.

Time pass and eventually, Raphaelle stands up and walks over to the edge of the pool. He extends his hand to me, "time to get up."

I pout, "but the unicown?" 

He smiles softly, "the unicorn isn't going anywhere, bambina. Come on. Up." 

 With a bright smile, I paddles over and take his hand, letting him pull me out of the water.

"There we go," he whispers, as he dries my body head to toe, gentle and attentive. "Go sit on the sunbed."

I tiptoe over to the sunbed, taking a seat. 

Raphaelle comes over, after picking up my sundress from the poolside. "You're such a beautiful girl," he compliments, removing my swimwear. "Up with your arms," he instructs. 

I raise up my arms and he slips the sundress over my body.

He reaches over to caress my cheeks, "I'm so very proud of you. This is the first time you've truly allowed yourself to let go." 

I lose myself in his gorgeous eyes again, taking in his words. "I-" I can't form the sentence. 

"You don't have to say anything. What would you like to eat?" 

"Lasagna!" I squeal. I love the lasagna here. It's the best! 

He chuckles lightly, "alright, bambina. I'll let chef know."

Wiii. I clap my hands. 

The world fades away, leaving only us. 

"Upsies?" I ask, remembering his warning. 

He smiles. "Asking too? Good girl." 

Then he lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist, letting him carry me inside. 

As we step inside, the air changes from warm to cool. Raphaelle carries me to the dining area, setting me down gently on a chair.

Raphaelle goes to tell the chef, and when he comes back, he has a board game in his hands. Candy-Candyland! My eyes light up. I used to-I love that game.

"Played this before, I see? No need for rules then," he says as he sits down opposite me.

I shake my head. 

"We'll play until dinner, but no longer. Understand? I want no whining once dinner arrives."

He tilts his head slightly down. Is this a new daddy glare? I swallow, "yes, daddy." 

He smiles, unboxing the game, "good girl. Which color do you wanna be?" 

I look at the small little gingerbreads, "red!" I squeal, jumping in my seat. 

He places the bricks on the board, storing the rest away. "Inside voice. Manners, babydoll."

"Sorry, daddy." 

"Why don't you make the first move?" He asks, eyes alight with adoration. 

He watches me as I make my move, moving the gingerbread piece along the colorful board, my eyes gleaming with excitement. 

"What a lucky little girl. How can daddy beat that?"

It makes me giggle.

As the game progresses, my competitive side emerges, punctuated by pouts whenever I don't get the desired outcomes. Raphaelle can't help but chuckle at my antics. I'm lucky he doesn't scold me for it. I imagine it already, him telling me not to be a brat and that winning isn't everything. But maybe this isn't a bad trait in his eyes? I don't know.

Chef comes from around the corner with two plates of lasagne and some salad on the side. I scrunch my nose at the salad, knowing I'll have to eat that rabbit food too. Raphaelle rises from his chair, packing up the game, I still hold onto my gingerbread piece.

"Put the piece back in the box, bambina."

I reluctantly do as told, not wanting the fun to end. 

He sits back down. "Do you need daddy's help, or are you a big girl?"

"No help. Me is big!" 

He nods, "alright," he points at me with the knife he's holding in his hand, "but no playing with the food." 

The knife should scare me enough, but it doesn't scare me at all, not in his hands. He'd never hurt me. That knife is no threat. His hands on the other hand... I still remember the stinging sensation from last time. I don't want another round of spanking. 

We eat in silence, and I do silly little dances as the yumminess explores my mouth, and I scrunch my nose when forcing the yucky rabbit food down. Raphaelle chuckles at me a couple of times. 

After the meal, he has chef clear the table. Then his phone rings again, making him curse under his breath. He hates being disrupted. I've learnt that. He excuses himself, making me sit there not knowing what to say or do. Am I even allowed to leave the table? I don't know. I've never been little this long before. 

My head wanders, and I reach for the decorative figurines on the table, making them my toys for the while. Angels, and heavy, too heavy, but they'll do. 

When he returns I'm lost in it, my head not even in the same universe. I jolt when I feel his lips press on top of my head. 

"Easy. It's just daddy."

I smile. 

"I'm sorry to ruin your fun, but we have to go."

I pout, "but the angels? They were just about to learn how to ride pegasuses, daddy." 

He spins the chair slightly, squatting down to my level, "the angels aren't toys. Besides, you're too little to stay home alone. You can go grab your barbies and bring them with you. But we're leaving."  

I pout again, nodding, "but why?"

"Because daddy says so. Now go get your barbies if you wanna bring them. Now is your chance, bambina." 

I jump off the chair, focusing on not running inside, getting my barbies from the playroom before returning. 

Raphaelle chuckles, "you can't bring the whole bunch. Pick one or two."

I pout sadly, "but they all wanna come."

"Bambina, do as told."

Reluctantly, I choose. I wanna cry when looking at the ones who don't get to go, afraid they'll be hurt. I don't wanna hurt them. They don't deserve it.

Holding the two barbies in my hand, he looks at me with pride, "that's my good girl. Go wait in the hall, daddy'll help you with your shoes."

"I know how to tie my shoes, daddy," I sigh with a duh-like tone. 

He smacks my bottom semi-harshly. "Watch your tone, bambina. No brattiness."

I inwardly roll my eyes. He is such a daddy! I love it, but at times it's so annoying. But there are pros and cons to everything, I guess. 

I wait in the hall for him, and as he comes, all handsome and suited, I smile. How does he have this effect on me still? Even in this space? But maybe that's the soulmate thing. Even if I was a little girl, in the truest sense, he'd probably teach me what an attraction means. He'd teach me what it means to want a man, even before I should've wanted a man. It's just him. 

He smiles as he reaches down for my sneakers, "what a good girl, hm? Waiting for daddy to help," he praises, his voice soft like feather. The contrasts of this man is perplexing. 

"I can tie them myself," I argue. 

He smirks, "alright, go ahead and try." 

What is he smirking about? 

I reach down to tie my shoes, bunny ear to bunny ear, but I can't seem to get it right. But I know how to tie my shoes, I know I do. I've done it for years. 

A look of confusion crosses my face, "why can't I do it?" I ask.

"Shhh, it's alright. Daddy'll do it for you."

I nod, breathing in, in defeat. "But why can't I do it?"

"Bambina, how old are you?"

I wander into my head, and there's this confusion again, perplexingly agonizing. But when I think about how I feel, the answer is clear, I hold up four fingers.

"So I thought. When did you learn how to tie your shoes? Do you remember that?"

I go back into my head, memories are fuzzy, not like they usually are. They seem... lost in a way. Not completely gone, but not completely there. It's odd. I shake my head. 

"Then there's your answer, baby. If you can't remember when or how, you can't remember how to do it either. But it's okay. Daddy's here to help you." 

He ties and fastens my shoes. And the simple act of him helping me with my shoes, something so mundane, feels like a gesture of love in itself. 

"Ready to go?" he asks with a soft smile.

I nod, holding onto my barbies. He straightens up, fixes his tie on his suit before offering me his hand, which I take without hesitation.

We walk down the driveway towards the familiar black Lamborghini. Him hand his black. 

I admire the way he carries himself with confidence and poise, even when I have barbies in my hands. He's not embarrassed by that. He couldn't care less about what anyone else thinks. I wish I had that mindset. I don't even know if I'll be able to stay little long enough to hit the road. I don't know when that shame will overshadow me. I really wish I was as strong as him. but I'm weak. 

We hit the highway, and Raphaelle's cold stoic mask gradually makes a presence. He won't let anyone see him the way I do. And I know that, in his world, that softness, is the ultimate form of weakness. He can't show it. He has no choice but to be cold and ruthless. It's a painful thought. 

I watch him as he drives, with his easy charm that never fails to impress me. He really is a sight to behold. 

"Stop staring," he says, breaking the silence. 

I look away, flustered. I was caught. I knew I'd be, but I was caught staring nonetheless. It's aching. 

He reaches across the gearshift, towards my hand, "don't be embarrassed. But having your adorable face looking at me like that, it's a dangerous distraction."

Our fingers entwine, and I feel those rosy cheeks blooming again. The heat... the sun can't cause as much irreversible damage as this can. He'll burn me, and imprint his touch on my skin forever; and I'll forever ache to feel that touch burn me again. 

"Where we're going, you're gonna have to hold my hand. Understand me?" he says softly, his gaze never leaving the road. His hard mask even more present. I nod, "yes, daddy."

 "Good."