Frederick let out a heavy, guttural sound and suddenly hauled her up, forbidding her from looking any longer as he pinned her tightly within his arms.

The force was savage, stealing her breath away, and since she could not budge him, she could only furrow her brows and endure the weight.

"Frederick?"

"Don't move... don't move, Aerona." He kept his eyes closed, his voice low and agonizingly sexy.

Aerona felt a warm, then cool substance splash against her waist, a sensation that lasted for about ten seconds. Finally, Frederick released her. He cupped her face, peppering kisses from her forehead to the tip of her nose, then her lips. Aerona could feel that he had truly relaxed; his brow was smoothed out, and even the rigid tension in his arms had dissipated.

"Are you satisfied now?" she asked.

"More than that, sweetheart. I'm practically falling into hell".

She tilted her head curiously. "Why are you going to hell and not heaven? Aren't you a Catholic? You should want to go to heaven!"

"Sweetheart, if God saw me like this, I would never be allowed into heaven." Frederick thought of his decadence, greed, and lust—he had already violated far too many of the Seven Deadly Sins.

"I hope my Daddy gets what he wants and goes to heaven," Aerona declared sincerely.

Frederick's blue eyes turned so tender they seemed ready to melt. "Good girl. Heaven is a long way off. For now, let Daddy clean you up." He adjusted a dial, and a flexible handheld showerhead popped out from the wall. He crouched down, rinsing the mess from Aerona's waist before spraying the wall down as well.

Aerona knew what that substance was and couldn't help but feel a wave of shyness. There was so much of it—everywhere. It had even hit the wall. How powerful must he be to spray it that far? she wondered. Aerona was one hundred percent certain that no other man could be as amazing as Frederick—none as handsome, none with a body so sexy and hot, none with an eight-pack like his, and certainly none who could... go that far. He was her favorite person in the world, second only to her mother and father.

Frederick had no idea that his girl's admiration for him had reached new heights simply because of his "distance." He quickly rinsed her with water, then applied a rich lather, scrubbing every inch of her exposed skin before calmly peeling back her beautiful lace lingerie. His large hands moved in gentle circles, his palms having just the right amount of roughness. Aerona narrowed her eyes in bliss, her toes curling under the sensation. However, when he reached her lower leg, Frederick paused. "What happened here?"

There was a small bruise. "That must have been from the kick Daisy gave me," Aerona said dismissively. The security footage hadn't captured the kick; there were too many people in the way of that specific angle. Frederick touched the spot with aching tenderness. "She kicked you? Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

His tone was stern. Aerona poked his shoulder and pouted, acting spoiled. "Why are you being mean? I just forgot. Besides, it doesn't even hurt." Frederick's brow furrowed in displeasure. "I'll apply some medicine once you're out. My kind girl, those who bully you will pay a price."

Aerona didn't know what "price" he meant, but she could sense the simmering rage beneath his gentle facade. Afterward, his scrubbing became even more tender, as if he were handling the most delicate silk. He eventually noticed an old scar on her calf—short, slightly twisted, and a pale fleshy pink. "And this? How did you get this scar?"

Aerona shook her head. "I don't know. It's my little earthworm."

"You must have been a little troublemaker before you lost your memory to have ended up with a scar like that," Frederick noted.

As Frederick moved to rinse off the foam, Aerona helpfully pointed downward. "You haven't washed here yet."

Frederick landed a cold, ruthless smack on her bottom. "Mischievous bird. I'm going out first. Tell me when you're finished, and I'll bring you a towel."

Aerona was disappointed, the sting of his palm still lingering. Once he left, she stripped off her panties and looked down at herself, then thought of Frederick. He had so much hair there, while she had none—she was as smooth as the belly of a fish. As she washed, her fingers stopped as she discovered a significant amount of glistening residue.

The entire bath took over an hour. By the time Aerona stepped out, she was lightheaded. Frederick bundled her into a massive bath towel like a cocoon, drying her until not a drop of water remained, before dressing her in a clean velvet nightgown. The gown was exceptionally comfortable—soft as a cloud, yet warm.

Though she hadn't gone shopping, her walk-in closet was already packed with hundreds of items handpicked by Frederick or chosen from lookbooks.

Frederick had selected seven different nightgowns for this trip. He had her sit down and used a hairdryer on her long hair. Aerona sat cross-legged on the bed, inhaling his pleasant scent. In moments like these, she truly felt that Frederick might actually be her Daddy. "Is my hair pretty?" she asked suddenly. "

Your hair is beautiful—richer than chocolate," Frederick replied. "You lack confidence, My Lady."

"Daisy said it looked like her poodle. I just wasn't sure if it was actually nice".

"Poodle is cute, but it's no comparison for your hair. Did you refute her nonsense?"

"I told her her hair looked like rotten egg!" Frederick couldn't help but chuckle and pressed a kiss into her hair.

Aerona loved the way he looked when he smiled, but as she watched him, a wave of irritation sparked in her heart. Had he ever looked at anyone else like this? Had he been intimate with others? Had they touched his "big radish"? She looked innocent, but she was filled with a primal instinct inherited from her father's ferocity and her mother's courage. Her possessiveness was no less than that of any powerful predator. She loved to share, but she would never allow anyone to encroach upon her territory.

Frederick, her Daddy, had already been claimed as hers. Aerona sat up straight and looked at him, her declaration serious and domineering: "Frederick, you are mine. I won't let you marry Daisy."