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Eighty: Clash
Data de publicação:
2026-05-24 21:46:30
Último capítulo
Meant To Be Daddy’s: Claimed By My Fiance’s Father Eighty two: Upper hand
DAMIENElder Brone was talking about the eastern perimeter.I knew this because I could see his mouth moving, and the map in front of him had the eastern perimeter circled in red; everyone else at the table was looking at it with the appropriate level of concern.I was thinking about Seraphina turning away from me in the hallway.The kiss. The way she’d held my jacket and the way she’d stepped back after and looked at me with those eyes that saw everything and said now what? as if she was genuinely asking and had no idea the answer was the most complicated thing I’d ever been given.And then the morning. Nothing. She’d come down for breakfast and taken her coffee and said good morning to Agnes and looked at me the way she looked at the furniture, present and unremarkable, and I had sat across from her and felt something I had no appropriate name for.She had rejected me with her eyes over a cup of coffee.Which was not a sentence I had ever expected to construct about myself.“Alpha
Meant To Be Daddy’s: Claimed By My Fiance’s Father Eighty one: Reveal
SERAPHINAThe plan was simple.Nadia at the door. Me inside. In and out before anyone noticed.“You’re asking me to be a decoy,” Nadia said.“I’m asking you to stand in a corridor,” I said. “Which you do naturally and for free.”“I want the record to show that I am doing this under duress.”“Noted. Stand here.”I slipped into Damien’s study and pulled the door almost closed behind me.The room was exactly as it always was. Ordered, purposeful, smelling like him in a way I was choosing not to think about given that twenty hours ago he’d kissed me in the hallway and neither of us had spoken about it since.‘Now I fuck you till you remember who you belong to.”I’d walked out on him, while knowing I’d regret it. But he’d been with Clarissa. I hadn’t processed that truth at all. Focus. I needed to focus. I went to the desk first. Top drawer, already knew it was unlocked. Stationery, paper clips, and a spare key to something I hadn’t identified yet. No phone.Second drawer. Locked. I had
Meant To Be Daddy’s: Claimed By My Fiance’s Father Eighty: Clash
DAMIENThe drive to Clarissa’s suite was way too quiet. She sat in the passenger seat with her hands in her lap, looking out the window. I drove, and neither of us was able to perform normally, because we were both past the point where that would have been possible.When I pulled up outside the accommodation building she turned to me.“Thank you,” she said. Simply. No decoration around it.“For what specifically,” I asked with raised brows. Didn’t even know why I did that. “For tonight.” She paused. “For being there. For dancing badly.”“I wasn’t that bad.”“You were that bad,” she said, and there was warmth in it, real and uncomplicated. She looked at me for a moment with those clear green eyes. “Do you want to come in?”I looked at the building.I thought about it honestly, which was the least I owed her. Thought about what going in would mean and what it would cost both of us in the morning and whether the version of myself that wanted to go in was doing it for the right reasons
Meant To Be Daddy’s: Claimed By My Fiance’s Father Seventy nine: no lines
DAMIENMy body responded before my brain caught up. My hand found her waist, pulling her closer despite the gear shift digging into my forearm. Her mouth opened under mine, tongue tracing my lower lip. That's when something inside me snapped.I deepened the kiss, one hand sliding up her back to tangle in her hair. She made a small sound against my mouth, part surprise, part pleasure. The car suddenly felt too small, too hot. My fingers traced the curve of her spine through the thin material of her dress. She shivered, pressing closer. The kiss grew hungrier, more desperate. Months of loneliness, of pretending to be strong for everyone else, poured out through our joined lips."Damien," she breathed against my mouth, her fingers digging into my shoulders. "I..."I silenced her with another kiss, my free hand finding her thigh. Her skin was impossibly soft, warm beneath my touch. I slid my palm upward, pushing her dress higher. She didn't stop me. Instead, she shifted in her seat, g
Meant To Be Daddy’s: Claimed By My Fiance’s Father Seventy eight: Lines
DAMIENClarissa had the wig on again.Same logic as before, wanting to feel like someone else for a night, wanting the distance between who she was and who she was being to be visible in at least one way. She looked up when I reached her and her expression moved through surprise and then something softer.“You again,” she said.“Me again,” I said, and sat on the stool beside her.Francis materialized, set a drink in front of me, and vanished. He had the gift of knowing when to disappear.The bar noise folded around us, loud enough to give the conversation privacy without effort.“How are you?” I asked.She turned the glass in her hands. “Dave’s anniversary,” she said. Not his death anniversary, just the anniversary, which told me everything about how she held it.This wasn’t as a loss but as a day that had existed and kept existing without him. “I always come somewhere loud on this day. Helps.”“How long?”“Six years.” She looked at the bar top. “You’d think six years would be enough
Meant To Be Daddy’s: Claimed By My Fiance’s Father Seventy seven: unwanted company
DAMIENAlan called at half past ten on a Tuesday morning.Not the burner. His personal line, the number I’d had for twelve years, and it rarely. I looked at the screen for two rings before I picked up.“Alan.”“Damien.” The familiar performance warmth, always present, always slightly too polished. “I’m calling as a courtesy.”“About what?”“Well.” A pause with something in it. “It appears our children have been spending time together.”I set down the document I was holding. “What?”“Your ward and my son,” Alan said, definitely enjoying this more than he was letting on. “They were here yesterday. They stayed the night. Elaine fed them twice, which you know is her highest form of approval.” Another pause. “I suppose that makes us something like family, Damien.”The word family coming from Alan Voss’s mouth had never once in twelve years sat comfortably.“Shane and Seraphina are colleagues,” I said.“Of course,” Alan said pleasantly. “That’s why they were sharing breakfast with my wife
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