Lahat ng Kabanata ng Daddies Taste Better : Kabanata 71 - Kabanata 80

NOAH~*+*~The club was a sensory assault with its annoying strobe lights slicing through, the bass so deep it rattled bones, bodies packed tight and slick with mucky sweat. The rooftop in the Meatpacking District had been transformed into a maddening chaos: champagne fountains, aerialists dangling from ropes above the dance floor, confetti cannons primed for midnight. Lex had pulled strings to get us on the list, and we’d arrived late enough that the night was already peaking.I was three drinks in and the edge from the afternoon had dulled to a pleasant buzz. Ellis was somewhere in the VIP section, probably charming his way into a booth full of models. Lex was on the dance floor, moving with that effortless swagger that drew eyes. I leaned against the bar, scanning the crowd without really looking for anyone when someone tapped my shoulder hard. I turned to find Lex, shirt half-unbuttoned, hair damp with sweat, grinning like a devil.“Hey, man—your phone’s been ringing off the h

I stood abruptly and she stirred when I moved, murmuring something incoherent. I looked down at her—beautiful in her ruin, hair tangled across the pillow, lips swollen and felt nothing. Just the hollow satisfaction of a need met. I pulled my wallet from my jacket on the chair, took out a thick stack of hundreds, more than enough for a cab, a Plan B, whatever spa treatment she wanted to soothe the bruises and left it on the nightstand without a note. She’d understand. I washed up in the en-suite bathroom: cold water on my face, rinsed the taste of smoke and her from my mouth, straightened my shirt and suit. The mirror showed a man who looked perfectly composed, hair neat, eyes sharp, no sign of the violence I’d just unleashed except the faint red scratches on my neck where her nails had dug in. By the time I stepped out of the room, she was still asleep. I didn’t look back. The elevator took me down to the lobby in silence. My driver was waiting curbside in the black G

My eyes slid away, focusing on the countertop, on the faint reflection of the overhead light in the marble. My throat tightened.“I need time,” I whispered.His thumb stilled on my skin.Then it tightened. The pressure increased until it was bordered on pain, fingers digging into my jaw just enough to force my face back toward his. I whimpered, the sound small and involuntary, a mix of surprise and discomfort that made my eyes water.He looked at me for a long moment, then the corner of his mouth lifted.“I thought as much,” he said quietly.He leaned in and pressed a soft and tender kiss to my forehead, but lingering a second too long before releasing me completely, hand dropping away and without another word, he turned and left the kitchen.I stood there, frozen, fingers coming up to touch my jaw where his grip had been. It didn’t hurt anymore, just a faint throb, but the memory of it stayed. My heart was pounding, a confusing rush of emotions swirling in my chest… guilt, relief,

I met his eyes. “Safe,” I admitted. “Like I can be the messy version of me and it’s okay.”He didn’t say anything and just nodded, but I saw the warmth in his expression. My phone buzzed in my bag—probably Thea checking in, or Amelia finally answering a text but I ignored it.Toward the end of the session, he asked, “What’s one thing you’re proud of this week?”I had to think because most days I didn’t feel proud of much. But then I remembered dragging myself to class even though I barely slept worrying about Amelia. Texting her every day even when she didn’t answer. Being there for Thea when she needed me.“I didn’t give up,” I said finally. “I kept showing up.”“That’s not small, Mia.”I smiled. “Yeah. I guess it’s not.”When the session ended, I stood up, slung my bag over my shoulder and he walked me to the door like always.“Same time next week?” he asked, hand already on the doorknob.“Wouldn’t miss it.”He turned the knob and pulled the door open.The hallway outside his offi

Mia stepped half in front of me, shoulders squared like she was ready to throw hands. “Who the fuck is this?”My mother’s eyes flicked to Mia, dismissed her in half a second, then came back to me. She wore a wide smile, a too wide uncomfortable smile that people give when they’re trying to pretend everything’s normal. “Baby girl! Look at you! All grown up and hanging out in dives. I love it.”I still couldn’t speak.I mean… that’s my mother.My actual mother, who’d barely called in years, who’d moved to Florida with her latest boyfriend and sent occasional postcards with palm trees on them—was standing in front of me in a college bar, looking like she’d come straight from a bad Tinder date.She closed the distance, arms already opening like she expected a hug.I took a step back.Mia’s hand shot out and grabbed my elbow, steadying me. “Back the fuck up, lady. She doesn’t know you.”My mother laughed. “Oh, she knows me. Don’t you, sweetheart? It’s Mom.”The word hit me like a slap.Mom