All Chapters of Dirty Daddies Underground: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Harper's POVMark strides past me without a word, snatching the glow off the counter with a grip a little too tight for comfort. I remain still in the chair, my eyes trained on him, watching every movement like a seasoned animal watches to capture.He doesn't look at me. Not yet. Frantically, he sinks into the armchair across from mine, leans forward, and begins gathering the crumpled bills on the table. His fingers move fast, mechanically, like he's done this too many times before. He counts in silence, his brow furrowing into a thin line. Then his brow furrows."This is short," he mutters, though the accusation behind the words is anything but quiet.Short? That's not possible. "It's not," I say quickly."Yes, it is," he agrees, lifting his head now, his eyes sharp and narrow.It's the agreed amount. You heard them, the prices are dropping. I can't force people to pay more than they want to.He echoes through his nose in that sharp, familiar way that means his temper is winding up,

Harper's POVMark is still watching me, his gaze fixed and impatient, like he's waiting for a dog to obey a simple command. I can feel the heat of it against my cheek, and my fingers start moving before I even realize I've made the decision.I do the only thing I can think to do. I tap the message icon on the profile. A small heart-shaped symbol sits beside it, glowing faintly. I click that too, because honestly, I have to, when I'm supposed to say hello to three strangers who want to spoil and use me for a night.The screen flashes once, then confirms the message has gone through.That's it. No reply yet. Just silence.I glance back at the profile. There's no pricing listed anywhere. Just a row of six golden dollar signs lined neatly beneath their usernames. What the hell does that even mean? Is it a tier? A warning?"Next one," Mark says, already leaning in.I suppress the sigh building in my chest and nod instead. I click out of the profile and scroll until another catches my eye.

Harper's POVA familiar sickness stirs in my stomach, not the sharp edge of fear I've grown used to, but something deeper, more hollow. I want to lean into this conversation, to let myself get caught up in curiosity, in wondering who they are and how they might speak to me if they weren't separated by screens and usernames. I want to explore it like I would a new book, something I haven't read yet but might love. But with Mark hovering nearby, checking my phone every time it buzzes, every word I write feels like it has to pass through his approval first.Eventually, I set the phone down and walked away from it, forcing myself not to look back. He'll be leaving soon, off to whatever job he's convinced me is too important to talk about, and until then, I need space to breathe."I'm going to finish stitching that dress," I say quietly, moving through the apartment toward the corner where I've carved out a space just for myself. It's not much, only a small desk, a sewing machine, and two

Harper's POVI read their messages the moment they came through, each one calm, thoughtful, even kind in a way that caught me off guard, but I didn't reply. Instead, I closed the app and set the phone down on the counter with a quiet finality.I don't want them to think I'm eager. Not like that. Not in a way that smells of desperation.They said they trust me, that they care, but I can still feel the hesitation threaded between the lines. Their concern was real, and though it was gentle, it was still a question. So I didn't respond. Not because I don't want this, but because I can't afford to look like I do, not too much, not too fast.Let them wonder. Let them think I'm indifferent. Maybe it doesn't matter to me whether they say yes or not. Because if I give even a hint that I need this, that I'm hungry for it, they'll start to second-guess everything.And that would ruin it.So instead, I get dressed. I tuck my hair back, pull on a pair of jeans and a fitted black shirt, and head ou

Harper's POV"Harper, wake the fuck up!"I groan as I sit up, my eyes still heavy with sleep, only to see Mark pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed. His movements are sharp, angry, like the sound of his footsteps alone could cut through the tension in the air."Where the fuck did all the money go?"Is he serious right now? I press a hand to my forehead and try to shake the sleep from my voice. "You kept buying drinks for everyone," I whisper, keeping my tone low, hoping it won't make things worse."Not that much. Where's your card? Give me it."No. I need that card. "I need it, Mark. I've got to buy a new outfit. They asked me to get something new."They didn't, not exactly, but I'm doing it anyway."With what? Maybe if you hadn't overspent on food this week, there'd be more left!"I nod slowly, forcing myself to agree just to end this argument before it spirals further. "Okay. I'm sorry. I won't let it happen again. I didn't calculate it right.""No, you didn't. You never fuc