The Good Girl Effect (Salacious Legacy, #1)

by Sara Cate

It’s at that moment that I realize I might be a little too obsessed with this random piece of mail I found in a book today.

I wish I could tell him what an ill-tempered, miserable grump he is. He’d probably tell me what a foolish, immature brat I am. So I guess in that case, we really shouldn’t talk to each other at all.

I like being alone, I do, but sometimes I wish there was someone next to me whose shoulder I could rest my head on. Someone who would let me hold their hand as we watch the sun set over Paris. Someone who would listen to me tell stories about the trips I took to the basilica as a kid with my father. Someone who would pull me away from the crowds to kiss me under the shade of the tree growing up the side of the hill.

He chuckles. “First time?” Silently, I nod. First time what? I don’t know. First time in a kinky sex dungeon, yes. First time my curiosity has gotten me in trouble, not even close.

I don’t think everything needs to be perfected as a skill. There’s nothing wrong with just enjoying something for the sake of enjoying it.

Hearing Jack’s footsteps upstairs, I fight the urge to march up there and give him a piece of my mind. I want to yell at him to snap out of it. Stop being such a ghost. Be a father.

“Good girl,” he says with a low growl. His free hand pets my hair, and I start to sway. How can he have me so compliant with just a few commands and words of praise? It’s like being hypnotized. I’d do anything just to please him.

Staring down at my letter, I bite my lip as I consider how to sign it. Just signing my name doesn’t feel right anymore. After tonight…after feeling what it’s like to be praised by him, I realize that I want to sign it a different way. Taking a deep breath, I hold my pen as I scribble out the last line. Your good girl.

“I’d cover you in rope and put you on display like my own little masterpiece.”

I want to be his good girl, like I said I was. But if being good means not getting what I want, is it even worth it?

let anyone try to skip it, understand?” I’m an asshole for skipping it

I take it, setting it in the sink before returning to her. Stepping close, I lift one of her legs by the ankle and inspect her foot for any damage from the knots. It’s definitely not an excuse just to get to touch her again. She bites her bottom lip as she

“You’re shaking,” he whispers. “We don’t have to do this.” I shake my head. “I want to do this.” He tears the blindfold off and forces my chin upward. “Open your eyes, little bird.” At that name, a gasp slips through my lips, and I pop my eyes open, staring up at him in surprise. Little bird, like what my father used to call me. Like I told Jack in my letter. “I’ve got you,” he whispers.

“What am I doing?” I mutter in the darkness. I don’t know why, but I have this need to express everything to her. “My job is a mess. I’m a terrible father. My life is falling apart.”

as she crawls onto one of the chairs, sitting on her knees so she’s taller. I can tell that Jack is trying not to grin too much as he takes the seat next to her. Then he looks up at me as he picks up his fork. “Bon appétit.” For a moment, everything feels right. And there’s something about that that feels so wrong. Rule #31: You can’t be in

Eventually, I’m going to have to make a choice. Stay here and devote my life to this family as a nanny, or save my own heart and say goodbye before it grows too attached.

What did I really expect? That I could just deposit her on the street and somehow return to my work upstairs as if nothing happened? No. We are either going to fight this out or fuck this out. Or both.

“You want me to say that I am yours as much as you are mine, but you must know it’s true. Don’t you see what you’ve done to me?” Her expression softens as she looks up at me. The fire is still there as she whispers, “Then say it.”

“Then take me, Jack. Make me yours, and I’ll never touch another man again.”

I adore your imperfections. I love that you are impulsive and headstrong and you speak without thinking first. And I love that you are so curious that sometimes it gets you into trouble. I knew it the minute I walked into the kitchen and found you burning the rice to dance with my daughter. Those flaws are what I adore. When I say you’re perfect, I don’t mean that perfection defines you. I mean you define perfection.”

When they see me, they don’t freeze in terror like they had before. Instead, Bea grins wildly, running up to me and taking my hands. “Dance, Papa!” she squeals.

Bea shrieks with laughter as I spin her. Her joy is infectious. It seeps into my pores like medicine, curing ailments I didn’t even know I had. I just know I feel better when I hear it. When the song ends, I hoist my daughter off the floor and hug her to me, kissing her on the cheek as she wraps her arms tightly around my neck.

I want to be around her all the time. I want to own her while also being owned by her. I want her to exist in every future iteration of my life.

I am her father, and it’s about time I start acting like it again. Before her life passes by and her childhood memories are full of a sadder version of me.

FINALLY

“Hold still,” he says. Then with steady hands and a relaxed expression, he applies the mascara to my right eye. I can hardly move. There’s something so cool and confident about the way he does this, as if he owns me. As if I’m just a thing for him to dress up and play with. And oddly…it calms me.

“I chose you because you are perfect in every way. You are perfect to me. You are everything I have ever wanted and will ever want, and I chose you as my date tonight because as long as you are in the room, I see no one else. Understand?”

But I’m so fucking tired of running and fighting that I start to let the pain win. When the next three words leave my lips, it feels like tearing down the dam. “I’m not fine.” And that’s it. The painful prick of tears subsides when I finally let them fall.

“Papa,” she whispers. “Yes?” “Can we get hot chocolate?” I smile with my chin resting on her head. “Yes, of course we can.”

“Well, you’d never forgive me if I left you alone with Julian.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re right about that.” Just then, he passes by the office, sneering at both of us before lifting up his middle fingers on both hands. “I heard that. Fuck you both.” Elizabeth and I cackle.

“What’s wrong, Lizzie?” our dad asks. “You don’t want kids someday?” “God no,” she replies before glancing back at Bea and the baby. “No offense.” “None taken,” Bea replies, making everyone laugh.