Falling For My Billionaire Revenge Daddy

PROLOGUE

Roxy’s POV

“Does this make you uncomfortable, baby?" His voice is like smoke in my ear heating up my whole body.

"No... Daddy, never with you." I say in a hush whisper and I feel his body tense against mine.

“I like how you call me Daddy… and still make me feel like a boy around you. Restless. Impatient. Like I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“I like how you call me baby,” I whisper, “and still make me feel like a woman. Desired. Dangerous.”

“But I’m too old for you, baby…”

Yet he’s already pulling me closer, mouth brushing the corner of mine, the tip of his nose trailing down my jaw before he buries it in my hair like he needs the scent to survive.

My body trembles, a slow, tantalizing shiver rushing down my spine.

I bite my lip, breathless. “You’re not too old. You’re just right. Right for me. Right now.”

His hand moves, slow and possessive—fingertips gliding over my blouse until his thumb finds the sensitive peak of my nipple. He presses just enough for me to gasp, to feel heat blooming low in my belly.

“Do you like this, baby?” he murmurs, thumb brushing my nipple through my blouse, trailing down.

A whimper escapes before I can stop it, my body arching into his.

But he pauses, stilling his touch.

“Oh no, baby. Not without your permission.” His breath fans over my neck. “I won’t take what isn’t mine. Not until you give it to me. I won’t go further unless you say it.”

“Please…” My voice is barely a whisper. “Touch me.”

“How?” His lips brushing my temple as his hand drifts lower—just above the waistband of my skirt, teasing, holding back.

“Any way you want to, Daddy.”

I came for revenge.

But now, tangled in his arms, his lips on mine, trembling beneath his touch…

I don’t know if this is revenge anymore—

Or if I’ve already fallen completely head over heels in love with Aaron West-- my revenge daddy.

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CHAPTER 1

Roxy’s POV

“Lucas, stay with me,” I beg, voice shaking. He clutches my shirt, fighting to hold on. “What happened? Who did this?”

“Roxy…” he whispers. So faint it shreds me.

“I’m here,” I cry, brushing blood-soaked hair from his forehead. “You’re gonna be okay.”

But even I don’t believe that.

His chest rises in shallow gasps. Fingers tug at my shirt. He’s trying to speak. I lean closer, heart pounding.

“It’s our anniversary, remember? Stay with me—please.”

“Roxy…” His grip tightens. His lips part. Eyes meet mine. He is trying to say something.

I lean even closer, "What…. who…”

He breathes out. “Professor… Sarah McLain…”

Then his hand drops as if he was only holding out to say her name.

“No!” I scream as a black Phantom vanishes into the night. “Lucas!”

But he’s already gone.

I wake choking on air. Heart pounding. Shirt clinging. Pillow soaked. It's been a week since he died and it's been the same every night—this nightmare.

Lucas in the street, lying in a pool of his own blood, dying in my arms. On repeat. Like my brain’s afraid I’ll forget.

But I never will.

His voice.

The blood.

That name—

Professor Sarah McLain—the last name he whispered.

His final breath.

Lucas and I were everything. Childhood sweethearts. Two years together. Four before that as best friends.

Freshman. Sophomore. Junior. Senior.

He stayed in California. I left for Stanford. We had it all planned. School. Marriage. Kids—Daisy and Sloane.

Now?

Gone.

A hit-and-run. Like he meant nothing.

How does someone hit a person and just keep driving?

I locked myself away from the rest of the world. From my Mom. My sister Rosie. They keep trying to talk to me but I can’t-- talk. What’s the point? Words won’t bring him back.

Next thing I know, I’m at Lux Liquors. Near Gould. His university.

He used to love this place. Talked about it all the time.

I ordered sushi. I hate sushi. He loved it. I’d kiss him after just to tease him. Now there’s no one to tease.

No one to kiss. Just an empty seat. And untouched chopsticks.

Because of her.

The name he gasped—

Professor Sarah McLain.

I don’t even notice when I leave. One minute I’m staring at sushi, the next— a pair of headlights are blinding me and someone’s yelling—

“Hey! What are you doing? Watch where you’re going!”

I blink. I’m in the street. A car swerves. My pulse slams against my ribs.

God, when did I even leave Lux?

A man—late thirties, maybe early forties—stands in front of me. Sharp jaw. Messy dark hair. Gray eyes. Voice like gravel and velvet.

“Jesus Christ! Are you even listening?” he snaps. “I nearly ran you over.”

I shake my head, still foggy. “Would it matter?” I mutter. “You’d just drive off like everyone else, right?”

He frowns. “No. Why would I do that?”

His voice makes me pause. I laugh—hollow. “It’s kind of a thing now.”

He studies me. Too closely. “Have you been drinking?”

“A few. Couldn’t bring myself to eat the sushi.” I chuckle and wobble. The world tilts. His hand shoots out, steadying me.

Then something happens.

Something I have absolutely never felt before.

My heart races….. too fast.

Skin prickles.

Heat rushes from my head to the tips of my toes.

It’s not grief. Not anger. Something electric.

Must be the alcohol.

I glance up at him. Tall. Broad. Enough to consume my entire form and so much more. That mouth— soft, full, and maddeningly defined,

He lets me go like he has held on for too long. Steps back. But his eyes stay locked on me.

I tuck my hair behind my ear. Bite my lip—for no d*mn reason. My body reacts to him like it knows something I don’t.

Get a grip, Roxy.

He’s not ice cream.

But he still hasn’t looked away.

He makes an angry face that still looks very attractive. And then his plump lips move, and my eyes are completely focused on them. “You’re walking in the street. Alone. Half-drunk. And…”

His gaze rakes over me.

“Poorly dressed.”

I glance down. Oversized shirt. No bra. My n*ppl*s practically waving hello.

I cross my arms, mortified.

Then—the words came out of his mouth.

“You deserve a good spanking.”

The words hit low…. My core clenches.

My toes curl in my sneakers.

And the look in his eyes—

It’s like he can see what's in my head--right now.

HIM SPANKING ME!

Why would I even imagine that?

God, don’t ever drink again Roxy!

“What?” I blink.

But before he can answer—

“There you are!”

A woman rushes past, brushing past me like I’m invisible, wraps her arms around him,

“You had me waiting in the lobby,” she pouts.

He stiffens. Eyes almost meet mine—but he looks away.

“Sorry, I was caught up—”

“It’s fine,” she says sweetly. “Happy anniversary, baby.”

Baby.

Anniversary.

Then she kisses him.

Its nothing dramatic—just a light kiss on the lips. But I see it.

He doesn’t kiss back.

Hands stay limp at his sides.

Eyes flick—just once—back to me

And then a loud voice called from behind.

“Professor Sarah McLain.”

I heard the name and my entire body locked up.

I turn sharply. A man with sandy brown hair is jogging toward us, holding out a phone. “You forgot your phone, ma’am.”

She giggles. “Oh my God, thank you so much.”

And he says the name again.

“Anytime, Professor McLain.”

Professor McLain.

It’s her.

The last name Lucas whispered.

The name he saved his last breath for.

Heart slams. Stomach twists.

I tremble.

She trails her fingers along his jaw while he kept his eyes fixed anywhere but on me.. “Why so flustered, baby?”

“I, uh… almost hit a girl.” 

She laughs. “These college kids. Always reckless and dramatic. It’s like they want to get themselves killed.”

F*ck!

I feel sick to my stomach.

Reckless? Dramatic?

Is that what she thought Lucas was?

A professor—respected, polished—hit my Lucas.

Left him to die.

And she’s here—smiling, alive, untouched. Like she didn’t shatter my entire world. She’s kissing her man. Getting in her car. Laughing. Free.

My stomach flips. Head spins. Knees weaken

In this world, someone like her walks away.

Someone like me—

An low class college girl.

What could I do to her?

She’s a respected professor.

She will get away with it.

But if you were me—would you let her?

I won’t.

I can’t.

I watch her slide into the passenger seat.

I watch him—the man with the voice, the eyes— the hands that made my heart race several kilometers—open her door.

And his eyes flicker again—

To me.

That’s when I know.

She took something from me.

Now I’ll take something from her.

Maybe everything.

Starting with him.