Page 137 of A King’s Obsession

My daughter stopped in the middle of the living room, turned around, and looked at me like I had personally offended her. Her little eyebrows pulled together as she glanced between me and the shoes she'd abandoned beside the couch.

“Mommy, don't say bad words.” She frowned, shaking her head with the same disapproving expression her daddy gave people when they got on his nerves.

I blinked.

This little girl had some nerve.

“Then stop making me say them.” I pointed toward the couch, trying to keep a straight face while she stood there looking entirely too pleased with herself.

She planted both hands on her hips, her little pink dress swaying as she shifted her weight. At three years old, Liora had already mastered the art of arguing with grown folks, and unfortunately for me, she had inherited every bit of her daddy's attitude.

“I want Daddy.” She lifted her chin as if that settled the entire conversation.

“Of course you do,” I muttered, reaching for the shoes she'd abandoned beside the couch. “Because Daddy lets you do whatever you want.”

She smiled, showing every one of those little teeth. “Daddy loves me.”

“And what the hell do I do? Pay your bills?” I stared at her, waiting to see what smart little answer she'd come up with next.

Before she could answer, I heard a familiar deep laugh coming from the doorway.

“Why you arguing with my baby?”

I turned around to find my husband standing there in a black designer T-shirt and gray sweats, looking entirely too amused for somebody who was responsible for half my daily headaches. He leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded, watching us like he'd just walked into the best entertainment of his day.

“Ezra, come get your child.” I held up her shoes, already knowing he was about to take her side.

He glanced at Liora, who immediately ran toward him with both arms raised. Without hesitation, he scooped her up and kissed her cheek.

“What happened, princess?” he asked, smoothing his hand over her hair.

“Mommy being mean.” She wrapped her little arms around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder, putting on a performance that deserved an award.

I threw my hands up. “Are you serious?”

Ezra looked at me over our daughter's head, fighting a smile. “Damn, baby. What you do to her?”

“Don't start with me.” I narrowed my eyes at him, but the way his mouth twitched told me he was enjoying every second of this.

He laughed and kissed Liora's forehead before setting her on his hip. “You heard your mama. Go put your shoes on.”

“But Daddy—” Her bottom lip pushed out as she looked up at him.

“Liora.” His voice grew a little firmer, although the affection in his eyes never changed.

She pouted, and I watched my forty-four-year-old husband almost fold like a lawn chair.

Almost.

“Go on, princess. Daddy got you.”

And just like that, she was smiling again. He lowered her to the floor, and she hurried toward the couch to collect her shoes.

I shook my head as she ran off. “You have created a monster.”

“Nah.” He walked toward me, sliding an arm around my waist. “I created a queen.”

“A spoiled-ass queen.” I rested my hands against his chest, giving him a look that let him know exactly who I blamed for that.