"They call you cry baby, cry baby" I hum-sing. It's strange how music has a way of creeping into your head out of the blue.

Raphaelle looks at me, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "What's got you so bubbly? In the playroom all by yourself? Without orders?"

I shrug, "wook!" I say, holding up the doll I just dressed up in a blue dress.

He chuckles, squatting down to plant a kiss on top of my head. "What a pretty dress," he says approvingly. I smile up at him. 

I get warm smile in return. "Look at my babydoll, finally coming out of her shell. I'm proud of you," he says, kissing the top of my head again, before standing back up. 

"Fanks, daddy," I reply. But then again, who wouldn't feel bashful when the guy who's practically your boyfriend and Dom starts complimenting your doll-dressing skills?

Raphaelle chuckles again, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You know, you've been spending a lot of time dressing up dolls lately. Got a secret doll fashion show you're prepping for? D'you want daddy to set up a catwalk for your dolls?"

My eyes widen, "can I get that?"

He laughs, shaking his head. "It's a done deal," he promises. "Lunch in twenty minutes."

I glance up at him, "can I bring her?"

"No. You need to eat. No toys around the table, capisci?" 

I nod slowly, understanding what he means.

"Yes, daddy," I say softly. 

"It's a joy to see you like this," he says with a glint in his as he steps out of the room, closing the door, letting me have my privacy.

As soon as he leaves, I let out a contented sigh, feeling a strange mix of happiness and nerves bubbling inside me. It's not every day he catches me in such a playful mood. It's not everyday I'm as comfortable as I am right now. But it's easier when I'm alone. Easier to handle, easier to not feel that shame creeping back in. 

I carefully arrange my doll on the miniature sofa, adjusting her dress ever so slightly. It's funny how much joy something so simple can bring. 

I play for a while longer until I hear a soft knock on the door, followed by Raphaelle's voice, "it's lunch."

I quickly stash my doll away, "just a sec!" I call out, trying to sound casual.

We walk hand in hand down to the living room, taking a seat around the table. And I can't shake off the feeling of warmth that his presence brings. It's like he has this invisible force field around him, pulling me into absolute peace.

Chef serves up a delicious spread of pasta and salad, the aroma making my stomach rumble. Raphaelle shoots me a knowing look, a silent reminder that I need to eat properly, not just play with dolls all day. I nod, a silent promise to behave.

"So, when is the show?" Raphaelle asks, twirling his fork in the pasta before taking a bite.

I shrug, spearing a cherry tomato with my fork. "Show?" I ask, trying to sound nonchalant. But truth be told, I feel butterflies at his interest. Lighter somehow.

"Your fashion show. Daddy wants a ticket," he winks.

I shrug again, feeling a faint blush creep up my cheeks. "I don't know daddy. When will the catwalk arrive?" 

He chuckles softly, reaching across the table to gently lift my chin with his finger, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I can have someone put it together today," he says softly. "Doing this," he says snapping his fingers. 

I nod. Of course he can.

We finish our meal in comfortable silence. And for the first time since... the whole cafe thing, I feel truly at peace. 

It helps with Raphaelle. His whole being making it possible to play without fear or shame.

After lunch, Raphaelle makes a call to make arrangements for my impromptu doll fashion show. I find myself alone in the living room, watching H2O on netflix. 

As I wait for him to come join me, I decide to tidy up a bit, straightening the cushions on the couch. But before I can get too lost in my thoughts, there's a knock on the door.

Who is that? I find a blanket, hiding under it. It almost functions as a copse, shielding me away from the open world. I don't want whoever it is to see me like this. 

Someone opens the door, Raphaelle or chef, I'm not sure, I can't see through the blanket. 

"It's just Giancarlo, you don't have to hide," he says, uncovering the blanket from my face.

My tears poor like a runnel from my eyes. I just can't help it. The thought of anyone else seeing me so... vulnerable, it's still suffocating me. The shame is still too overbearing, in reign. 

"Sophia, what's wrong?"

I shake my head, looking wearily at Giancarlo. 

Giancarlo gives me a weak smile. "I'll wait in your study," he tells Raphaelle, getting the picture.

Raphaelle takes a seat on the couch, patting his lap. "Come here." 

I obey, settling down beside him. The effect he has on me is unrealistic. He just makes me do things, with no thought. Most of the time at least. He disabuses my thoughts. It's fascinating. 

"Talk to me," he begins, "tell daddy what's going on in that pretty little head of yours."

I smile gratefully, "I'm just not comfortable with anyone else seeing me like this."

He presses a kiss to the top of my head, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulls away. "Shhhh. I get that. And you don't have to be. I don't expect you to be. You're only just starting to warm up around me. Just watch your show alone for a while. I gotta hear what Giancarlo wants and then I'll come join you. Okay? Don't stress too much."

With that, he gets up from the couch and disappears for his study, leaving me alone with my thoughts. 

As I sit here, huddled up on the couch, wrapped in the soft dark-knitted blanket, I feel at unease. He always knows just what to say, just what to do to make me feel safe. But he can't just say bibbidibabbidoboo and erase all my scars, letting them travel away with a pumpkin-carriage. I wish it were that easy, but it's not. It's no fairytale this life. But gosh... I really wish it were. 

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the gray landscape painting my otherwise pastel mind. Giancarlo's visit is probably not something I should worry about, he's here pretty often, but just Because I know of Raphaelle's life, I am anyway. And after the gun encounters I have had since I met him, I know of the dangers. I don't like them. I wish he were a regular office guy at times. But then again, if he were, he might just not have been the man that I love. He might have been a whole other person. 

I decide to focus on the show I'm watching, letting the familiar storyline of mermaids and teenage drama wash over me. It's a welcome distraction from my own tangled thoughts.

After what feels like an eternity, Raphaelle finally comes to sit beside me, Giancarlo gives me a quick wave before he's out the door. Raphaelle is stolid, for the time being, he just needs a few minutes to throw off that hard mask of his. 

"So what has happened?" he asks softly, his eyes feigning interest. I giggle inwardly. Of course he's uninterested. Why would he be interested in mermaids?

"They're trying to avoid the moon pool," I inform him. 

He wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. "And why is that?"

Has he never watched H2O? What the... has he lived under a rock? He's not that much... well, maybe he is, but he's not ancient. 

I chuckle softly at his question, leaning into his embrace. "Because if they go into the moon pool during a full moon, they turn into mermaids permanently," I explain, trying not to sound too incredulous that he doesn't know this basic plot point.

He nods thoughtfully, pretending to absorb this new information. "Ah, I see. That could be problematic."

I refrain from rolling my eyes, knowing the consequences of doing so, knowing he's just teasing. "Yeah, just a little bit."

"What is that fisher dude wearing?" he asks, breaking the silence.

"Who? Lewis?"I grin, knowing his styling must annoy the Armani-suited God beside me.

Raphaelle raises his brows, "yeah, if that's his name. That bucket hat of his should be a crime. I mean, bucket hats can be cool, but not one like that," he says in exasperation as he makes some Italian hand gestures. 

I lean up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "You don't have to hate on him, daddy. He has no chance," I wink, giggling. 

He chuckles, pulling me closer. "You're funny. As if I'd be jealous of a kid dressing as a grandpa."

I grin mischievously, "oh, so you're jealous because he's stealing your look."

Raphaelle scoffs, "if you don't stop insulting me with your jokes, I'mma have to tickle out an apology."

I laugh, snuggling into his side.

Eventually, the episode ends,and as the credits roll, Raphaelle glances at his watch and sighs.

"I hate to say it, but I've got some work to do," he says regretfully, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "But I'll try to wrap it up quickly so we can do something fun today. How about baking cookies?"

I nod, feeling a twinge of disappointment at the thought of him leaving. But I'm excited about cookies! 

I understand that his job is demanding. I just have to push through that. It's not as if he has much of a choice, honestly. 

"Okay, daddy," I reply softly, giving him a small smile.

With one last lingering look, Raphaelle reluctantly gets up from the couch and heads towards his study, leaving me alone once again. But this time, instead of feeling anxious or vulnerable, I feel a sense of strength and resilience.

I may not have all the answers, and there may still be moments of doubt and insecurity, but he makes me stronger. He may not be perfect, but he's perfect for me. And that's all I can ask for. Actually, that's more than I ever dared hope for. 

I decide to make the most of the time before he returns by indulging in some self-care. I head to the bathroom, running a warm bath and adding a few drops of lavender oil. Spa and duckies equally appreciated. 

As I soak, I let my mind wander, reflecting on us. From clubs to dressing up dolls... it's been a rollercoaster. Yet, I know I'm lucky to have him in my life. I wouldn't trade him for anything in the world. 

Eventually, the water cools, and I reluctantly climb out of the tub. Wrapping myself in a fluffy towel, I pad back to the living room.

As I settle back onto the couch, I hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching. Moments later, Raphaelle sits down beside me, a smile playing on his lips.

"What's that?" he asks,  taking in my scent. 

I smile back, "I had a bath," I say, snuggling into his side.

He wraps an arm around me, pulling me close. "A bath? Without me?" he jokes, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

I rest my head on his shoulder, feeling so happy.

Raphaelle leans back against the couch, pulling me closer as he wraps his arm around my shoulder. We sit in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company. The TV plays softly in the background, filling the room with ambient noise. I close my eyes, letting myself relax.

"You need a nap?" Raphaelle asks, breaking the silence.

I open my eyes, "please."

His gaze softens, and he brushes a strand of hair away from my face. "Alright, baby." Then he scoops me up and into his arms, carrying me to my bed. 

"I love you," I mumble against his chest.

He lies me down, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. "I love you. I'll come wake you in an hour."

As I drift off to sleep, I can still feel the sensation of his kiss lingering. I smile.

When I wake up an hour later, I find Raphaelle sitting by my bedside, a soft smile playing on his lips as he gently brushes my cheeks.

"Did you have a nice nap?"

I stretch languidly, "yeah," I reply with a yawn.

He chuckles. "It's insane how adorable you are at times."

I smile weakly.

"Chiara is coming next week. Said she missed you."

"What? Really?" I sit up. 

"Yeah. She likes you." 

I smile. Chiara is nice. She's a bit wild for my tastes, but, I like her. I just hope she won't drag me into a lingerie store again. Gosh... that was embarrassing. 

"We'll pick her up on Tuesday."

I gulp. "Tuesday?"

"Yeah?" 

"I uhm, I promised Danielle I'd sleepover at her's on Tuesday."

His face hardens, scoldingly, "and when were you going to tell me this? Let alone ask."

"I forgot, I'm sorry. But ask?"

"Yes. Ask. -Ask me if you're allowed to sleep over at her's."

"I didn't know I needed to," I say lowly, lowering my head. 

He leans in to press a soft kiss on my forehead "well, now you do. But go have a seat in the corner. You're getting five minutes because you haven't even told me."

I quickly move to the corner, feeling disappointment in myself for forgetting to communicate with Raphaelle about my plans. As I sit there, I can feel his eyes on me, and it's hard not to squirm under his gaze. 

After what feels like an eternity, Raphaelle finally speaks up. "Come here."

I walk back to him, my head low. 

"I'm not angry, Sophia," he says softly, his voice carrying a hint of disappointment. "I'm just... you gotta learn to talk to me."

"I'm sorry, daddy," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. 

He sighs, pulling me onto his lap, "shhhh, I know, babygirl. But you need to understand that communication is important. Especially for us. With what I do, with who we are... baby, it's what builds trust. Daddy has gotta trust that you'll come to me and talk to me, just like you have to trust that I'll be there. When you don't talk to me, you're just creating way more worry than necessary. Do you understand me?"

I nod, feeling a lump form in my throat. I hate disappointing him, especially when he's been so good to me. It's the worst feeling I know. "I understand."

He nods, seeming to accept my apology. "Good girl. But the sleepover. Her parents are there?"

I glance up at him, unsure of what to expect. "Yeah?"

"Good. I know she's your friend. But I don't trust her."

I inwardly roll my eyes. "When are you ever gonna see her for who she is?"

He chuckles. "I do. It's you who needs to see her for who she is. She brought you to a club where you could've ended up in the back of a car, handcuffed and sold. God knows what would've happened."

"Are you ever going to let that go? She didn't know."

"I don't care. You weren't supposed to be there."

"But I was. And I wouldn't even be here if I wasn't. You should actually thank her."

He licks his lips, "no."

I sigh. 

He tilts my head up, with the soft touch of his index finger. "You can still go to Danielle's on Tuesday, but I want you to have your phone turned on, on sound, and answer when I fucking call you. I'll come pick you up in the morning, okay?"

I feel a wave of relief wash over me. "Okay, daddy. Thank you."

He smiles softly. "You're welcome, babygirl. Now, no more sulking in the corner, alright? We've got cookies to bake."

I can't help but smile back at him. Despite the initial hiccup, I'm grateful for his willingness to compromise. When it comes to Danielle, that really comes as a surprise. 

We head to the kitchen to bake cookies together. 

The kitchen is warm and inviting, filled with the comforting scent of vanilla and chocolate. I'm beyond shocked that he's in the kitchen, doing the work himself. Chef always does it. No matter what Raphaelle wants, Raphaelle gets. 

He gathers the ingredients while I eagerly wait, excitement bubbling inside me at the thought of baking together.

"So, what kind of cookies are we making?" I ask, bouncing on my toes.

He chuckles, glancing at the recipe on his phone. "Chocolate chip, of course. Classic."

"Wiiii," I nod enthusiastically, already imagining sinking my teeth into warm, gooey cookies fresh from the oven. Yummy!

We quickly get to work, I measure out flour while he cracks eggs into a bowl. Our movements are synchronized as if we've been baking together for years.

As we mix the ingredients together, Raphaelle's hand brushes against mine, sending a jolt of electricity through me. I glance up at him, our eyes meeting for a brief moment before I look away, a blush creeping up my cheeks.

"You're doing great, bambina."

"Thanks, daddy."

After we finish mixing the dough, Raphaelle scoops it onto a baking sheet, expertly shaping each cookie with his hands. I watch in awe, impressed by his skill and attention to detail. But I'm actually not surprised, control freak that he is.

Once the cookies are in the oven, we settle down at the kitchen table to wait for them to bake. Raphaelle pours us each a glass of milk, "I love you," he murmurs.

I blush. Always do. "I love you, daddy." 

We wait until the timer beeps, signaling that the cookies are ready. I jump excitedly, eager to taste our creation. Raphaelle carefully removes the baking sheet from the oven, the cookies golden brown and gooey in the center.

"They look amazing," I exclaim, unable to contain my excitement.

He smiles, placing a cookie on a plate and handing it to me. "Go ahead, try one. But be careful. It's hot."

I dip it in the milk, letting it cool it down, if just slightly before I take a bite, the warm chocolate melting in my mouth as I close my eyes in bliss. "Yummy-yummy-yummy!" I say, dancing sillily in my chair.

Raphaelle laughs, taking a bite of his own cookie. "You're too adorable for your own good, bambina."

I blush. "Thanks for doing this with me, daddy."

He reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. "Good girls get rewarded, baby."

"So that's how it works, huh?" I grin.

He grins in return, "that's how it works."