It's been almost a whole week since the whole episode. We've barely even talked. There's been a few exchanges of messages between us, but they've been strictly related to homework and bedtimes. It's odd. It's weird. And peculiarly thrilling enough to keep my butterflies active and clinging. I don't know if it's to my liking or to my distaste. But I know it would've been easier if those butterflies vanished. So that I could walk away. It's what my mother would've wanted for me.

And I hate the thought of disappointing her. All I want is for her to look down on me and be proud of who I am. But with my recent adoration for despotism, or the man who masters it romantically well, I'm not so sure that she is.

And to make matters worse, we're having a field trip, going to visit this innovative CEO to learn about how to make a sustainable empire in the tech-field. In other words, utterly boring. It's a part of our tech class. And because it was the only class available due to my late admission this year, I had to take it. I'm not even having any of my friends in this class. I'll be the only one entirely alone. No one to talk to. Making this day an utter disaster.

"Alright, all the girls will ride in this minivan, and boys well, ya'll get the big guy!" Our teacher calls to my tech class. Honestly, I'm thankful for this, as I find smaller rides to drive more smoothly. Buses tend to have sharp turns and a bumpy feeling to the whole ride, making me nauseated. A minivan has a greater probability of not making me sick.

I take a seat and wait impatiently for an impudent disruption. Cars honking... ugh. Could there possibly be anything worse than that? I'm already pushing limits to what I can tolerate without lashing out and behaving badly.

The drive ends and we're outside one of the tallest office buildings here in Los Angeles. Tall, luxurious, expensive. Whoever runs this place must have style.

Men dressed in all black suits hover the place. I feel very underdressed. I think we all do.

Our teacher greets a blonde man in an all black customary suit. He's firm and business like. But, I can tell by my comparable Raphaelle, he's no Alpha. At least not in that extent. He may be handsome, might compose himself confidently, but he won't have me bow at his feet. Not at all, actually.

We follow him through a security check, and he's intimidating as he scans for any unusual behavior. For a split of a second he does come across as an Alpha. But once we're through, the intimidation wears off. Phew. I don't think anyone but Raphaelle do intimidate me. He's the only one that makes me feel safe when doing so. It's a perplexing thing.

We're separated into two elevators, eight people in each. Yes, we're a small class. But even fewer permitted to leave. I honestly wish my dad'd refuse to pay for my spot. Then I could be at school doing an assignment instead, having lunch with my friends.

And then when the elevator opens, my mouth drops open. What on... how?

"Sophia?" Raphaelle voices his surprise, brows furrowing and that cheesy little grin paints his gorgeous face.

I'm suddenly surrounded by glares, even one from my teacher. "Hi," I wave, rosing shy.

Raphaelle smiles, then stiffens back up again. "Come here," he demands. My teacher drags me by the arm, pushing me forward towards him, earning him a scolding glare from Raphaelle.

"Don't ever do that again," Raphaelle warns and my teacher gulps. "Uhm, how exactly do you know each other?" My teacher asks.

I look up at him, meeting his eyes. He's taller than me by over a head, and he's muscular and stern and so unlike me it's hard to even comprehend how we know each other. It doesn't seem likely or probable or even reasonable. I know it isn't reasonable. I know I shouldn't want him. But I do.

Raphaelle reaches for the small of my back, pulling me close into his sides. "She's my girl," he says with pride. His girl... I hardly even know him. He doesn't mean it in the traditional sense. And of that I am sure. He means he's taken ownership of me. That I'm somewhat a part of his priced possessions, deserving of his protection, as long as I abide by his rules. That's what he means. Not that he wants me. He couldn't possibly. Not the way I want him.

"Are you gonna let go of me?" I whisper-ask, feeling uncomfortable in the spotlight. As a result he tightens his hold of me. It's a no then. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. "Please?" I beg, with plea in my eyes. He softens, then he lets go. I silently thank him.

"Stick to my side, understood? I don't care what your teacher has to say. I'm in charge."

"Yes S-uhm-Raphaelle," I whisper. Quickly I glance around, scanning their reaction to this. Resentment is what I get. From everyone. Nice.

Raphaelle smirks, leaning in, "if you are to title me, at least give me the right one."

Huh?

He shakes his head, "sweet little girl. So innocent."

I want to roll my eyes. The urge is there. But I don't want to end up over his knees again. Feeling so helpless and embarrassed. It was belittling. No thanks.

"So you're interested in tech? Never would've guessed."

I look back at my classmates, then at my feet, it's rather telling.

"I'm n-not," I stutter out. I don't want to sound ungrateful. I'm getting an education. I'm making something out of myself.

We walk further down a long corridor, all glass and black steel. So suitable. Black. He's everything black. And well... I'm not. I'm just not. I don't belong in his world. But I belong with him. I can feel it. I can sense it. In the way my body relaxes at his touch. At the safety he instills. But then every part of his world is unsettling, thrilling in all the wrong ways. Except this... maybe. Maybe this tech-CEO aspect is respectable. But I don't understand how it's all related. The club and then this? The two businesses are worlds apart.

"What are you doing here then?" He questions, threading carefully. He's doing his best to remain calm. To pull off this character. But I know. This formality, in the gentle way he presents himself, it's not him. He's gruff, he's cold, and it's taking every bit of self-control to keep him caged. But control... that's something he exercises in everything.

"Uhm... late registration," I reply, chewing on my lip. His knuckles clench. Why?

"Change classes," he says as if it's no trouble at all. "I can't," I reply, saddened by the reality. But at least something good came out of this stupid tech class.

"Yes, you can. I'll help you."

We enter a room, meeting room by the looks of it. Decorated with chairs and there's a board with a powerpoint slide on display at the very end of the table.

"Have a seat everyone," Raphaelle says. And so I'm about to take a seat, but he pulls me back by the hand. "Not you, little girl."

I hear a few snorts. They heard him. Little girl... nice, they're gonna use that against me now.

I frown.

I'm led to the end of the table, seated beside him. He leans closer to my ear, "what's wrong?"

I shake my head, eyes darting in the boys' direction. "N-nothing," I whisper.

He hardens leaning in even closer, "after your last spanking you still lie to me?"

I gulp, shaking my head.

"Sophia, you have no poker face, I can tell something is up. Tell me. Or mark my words I won't be as gentle with you."

"If I tell you, will you hurt them?"

He sighs leaning a bit back, "that's why you're hesitant to tell me?"

I nod, glancing at the boys once again. They made me feel bad but they don't deserve his savage violence because of it. "I won't hurt them. Okay? But I will punish them. One way or another. And I won't spank you. Because I get why you'd hold back. But you will get corner-time. No lying."

I sigh. Corner-time? What does he take me for? Oh yes... a child.

"Now tell me."

I glance over at them again, his eyes follow mine. "What about them?"

"They snorted when you called me a little girl. It made it even worse," I admit fidgeting nervously with my fingers. I don't want him to hurt them.

"Serena? Escort those three out," he orders a refined woman whose dressed in business attire showing her cleavage. She's beautiful. She seems his type. Probably his girlfriend. "And don't let them back in." 

His masculine hand finds its way to my thigh, I squirm, pressing my thighs together. Raphaelle smirks, before turning his attention to the remaining people in my class. My teacher has his hand up, as if a student. It has me giggling softly. I feel powerful now. Beside Raphaelle, whose having my teacher reaching up his hand. I find it rather humorous.

"Yes?" Raphaelle calls to him, eyebrow lazily scolding him from a distance. "I'm not entirely sure you can just kick them out. We've paid a great deal to be here today."

"So I'm aware. But you were all given a form to sign with conditions of your stay, right?"

My teacher nods.

"In which you've all agreed to abide by the list of rules set in the clauses. Hence why I kicked them out," Raphaelle says while tightening his grip on my thigh. He's really having a trouble keeping his cool. And my teacher knows just how to push his buttons, by testing his authority.

"Oh for heaven's sake. They insulted my girl," he snaps as a way of explanation. My teacher scoots back in his chair. I flinch. I don't like it when people raise their voices. But when Raphaelle does it, I like it even less. He's scary when he does. Very scary.

"Sorry, Piccola. Would you like some cocoa?" He asks, lighting up my smile. I nod. He gives me a quick smile of adoration before he's back to his tight firm facade. He's in hiding more than I am at the moment.

"Serena, fetch me a cocoa with cream and a cookie."

No thank you or please? I guess he's not hiding as much as I assumed.

"Cookie?" I question with glee in my eyes. "Yes. Brave girls get rewarded."

"Brave?" I ask with confusion. He caresses my thigh with the hand that's resting there, "you were willing to face a spanking just to save someone's ass. I'd say that's rather brave. Foolish but brave. But I don't want you doing that again."

"Yes, S-" I begin stopping myself from finishing that title. He grins wickedly. He knows what I was about to say. He knows it all too well.

"Now, I'm not as knowledgeable about tech, if to be honest. But what I do know much about is business and what makes a business work. Now, if any of you are uninterested in becoming an entrepreneur, owning your own business, working day in and day out, you can follow that lady over there and she'll give you a prolonged tour about what we do on the house. However, if your goal is to build an empire and be your own man, feel free to stay."

I pout. I want none of the options. But I do want my cocoa. I watch as the class splits into two groups.

"You want some pens and a paper, baby?" He asks sweetly, as they rearrange. Baby... there's that word again. It feels so right. I love the word off of his tongue. "To draw something? I don't have any colors I'm afraid."

How did he know I love to draw? "I saw the sketches and coloring-books in your room. Don't be embarrassed."

"Yes please," I reply, relieved at the rescue. He stands to get a paper and pen from a drawer by the wall, then he places it in front of me. "You don't have to listen to this. You don't have to do the tour either. You can hang out in my office."

I nod, though I'm not entirely sure if my teacher will accept that. "Thank you, but I don't think-" I'm cut off again. "If you don't want to do the tour, then you're not doing the tour. You don't worry about a thing. Let me handle your teacher," and the softness is back. He's making me melt.

He's harsh like stormy weather, yet soft like the sound of small waves hitting land. He's giving me inner peace. I shouldn't want him. He shouldn't give me these butterflies. I shouldn't like them. I should run. I should say no. But my heart is refusing. It's holding on tight. A part of me is reaching out for his hand, holding it tightly, wanting to trust him with everything that I am. It's a strange and unfamiliar feeling. But it feels so good.

"Go ahead, do as you please. Your cocoa and cookie will be here shortly," he murmurs softly, keeping his composed posture hard still. How does he manage that? How does he manage to be sweet and soft while still scaring off everyone? How does he manage to be both? At the same time. I don't get it. "Raphaelle?" I whisper, noticing the squishy feeling inside of me.

He cocks his head to the side, "si?"

I look at my peers, dreading this squishy feeling. "Uhm, can you like, not talk to me like that?"

He raises his brows, "talk to you how?"

"Like you did after the uhm... you know," I hint, not wanting to say it out loud. He chuckles lowly, shaking his head. And my heart, it's deceiving. It's enjoying this gruffly kindness. I enjoy how he won't let it slip for anyone but me. "Baby, I know you want me to. There's no shame in that."

I lower my head, "but it makes me feel..." I hesitate to finish that sentence, looking around the room, feeling shyer than ever. What if they in some weird way decide to hold it against me?

"I know, baby. Trust me. I think I understand it better than you do. But you ain't gotta worry."

The cocoa and cookie comes in and I resist the urge to clap my hands when I see it.

"Enjoy, baby. Just draw some sketches for me and have fun? And maybe I'll hang them up in my office, yeah?"

My eyes light up. He wants to hang up my artwork? For real? Wow. My eyes glisten with tears threatening to fall.

He doesn't say anything, his hands just begin to stroke calming circles on my thigh.

I begin to draw, distracting myself with the cocoa and cookie, and soon enough the threatening tears vanish from my eyes. Raphaelle talks about business, and I'm not even half-engaged, only connected to the sound of his voice. I like it. It calm every fiber of my being. Even when he's gruff and snappy. It still makes me feel squishy.

By the end of his business-lecture, I've drawn a dolphin. I love dolphins. They're interesting creatures. They look so peaceful and friendly, yet they're the only species that actively engage in gang rape. Dolphins are all rapists. If I ever were to meet one, I'd rather meet a female dolphin.

My peers stand up to leave and I become nervous again, wondering if my teacher will make a fuss about me not tagging along. But he doesn't say anything. And when I glance at Raphaelle, I realize why. He has this scary mafia face again. It's honestly terrifying. And when I'm left alone with him, I breathe relieved out.

"Let me look at your drawing, sweetie," he says sweetly. I blush at the sudden change. His mood swings... jeez, I can't keep up. I give him my drawing, chewing my lip.

"Wow... this is very good work," he praises. And when he notices my lips, his thumb reaches to pull my lip away from my teeth. "Don't chew your lips. It'll make them sore."

I flush, and my palms are growing sweaty. Raphaelle stands, and scoots my chair out.

"Come," he holds out his hand, "let's hang this up in my office. And then I'll drive you home."

I stand up, grabbing hold of his hand. "Home? But-" I'm cut off as we reach the corridor.

"You're tired. You need a nap."

"No, I don't," I argue. I don't feel sleepy at all.

"Yes, you do. Which is exactly why I'm taking you home."

I pout, as we head into his office. "But I don't wanna go."

He sighs, closing the door behind him.

"Go have a seat."

I stop in my tracks. Which one?

"Go have a seat, doesn't matter where, Piccolina." He says again. Softer. He hangs my drawing up on display, smiling to himself.

I stumble my way to sit on the black leather lounge, crossing my legs, feeling a sudden pang of fiery nerves. All alone. With him. In his office. I didn't even know he had an office. He's certainly not the type. The club... that suits him.

He takes a seat opposite me, leaning back as if to enhance his dominance. "You can nap here, or at home. But I don't think you're ready to nap here yet."

"I don't need a nap."

"Sophia, you're heavy under the eyes. So yes, you do. Now, you can nap here or at home. It's your choice. But I really don't think you're ready."

"What do you mean ready? And I'm not sleepy."

He shakes his head, leaning forward to intimidate me. "You are. And you're not in charge, little girl."

I gulp. "You can sleep here, if that's what you want to. But you will not run until after you've napped, okay? Regardless. You need your nap."

I furrow my brows, cocking my head to the side. "Run? Why would I?"

"Shhh... it's nothing dangerous. But I won't show you unless you promise. If you don't want this, then go after your nap and not before."

"You're scaring me," I gulp. He stands up, holding out his hand.

"Promise me," he pleads softly.

"I promise," I gulp.

"Good girl. I'd rather take you home but, if you insist on staying, I won't nag."

I grab his hand. He walks me over to one of the doors within his office. As he opens it, revealing what's in there, I gasp. "Is that...?" I ask, raising my brows at him.

"Yes. It's a nursery for Littles like you."

"Littles?" I ask, confused and perplexed. An adult-sized crib? Why would he have this?

"Age-players or just girls with a child-like personality, often submissive. Does it make sense to you?"

"I don't know what age-play is, and I don't wanna be insulted like that again."

"Hey-hey-hey, who said anything about insulting you? Hmm? I cherish your innocence. And you don't have to use any of these," he says holding up a diaper. I scrunch my nose. Definitely not. "you don't have to sleep in cribs either. But for my now, it's what I have to offer. My last Little enjoyed playing a toddler. But we can rearrange this room to fit your needs, okay? That's if you want to."

"What do you mean by want to?"

He chuckles, leading me into the room. "If you want to be daddy's little girl," he murmurs softly, unlocking the crib. "I'mma leave this open. Makes it feel less like a crib and more like a bed. Go lay down."

What? What does that mean. "Sophia, just lay down and take a nap. You're tired. We'll talk about this when you wake up and are rested."

I'm stuck in a trance, incapable of moving.

"Sophia, I'll give you to the count of three, and if your not in bed by the second I say three, I'll carry you." My feet then rushes to move, as if his voice did a magic trick.

He chuckles, "works every time. Good girl," he says, as he tucks me in.

He then brushes my cheek lightly, "try to relax, and you'll fall asleep with ease, okay. I'll stay out in my office and wake you in time. You're safe, sweetheart. I've got you."