All Chapters of DDD: Daddies Dirty Desire: Chapter 191 - Chapter 200

Mila moved in the following weekend.Lucas carried the last box upstairs himself, setting it gently in the master bedroom beside the window seat that overlooked the backyard. The same yard where she and Sophia had once chased fireflies.“You don’t have to do this so fast,” Mila said softly, watching him. Her hand rested instinctively on her still-flat stomach.“I want you here. Both of you.” Lucas pulled her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “This is our home now.”The first weeks were quiet. Sophia’s silence felt like a shadow over everything. She had blocked Mila’s number and responded to Lucas’s texts with single-word answers. The pain of that absence lingered, but Lucas refused to let it swallow them.Their first prenatal appointment was on a crisp Thursday morning. Lucas held Mila’s hand the entire time, thumb stroking soothing circles over her knuckles. When the ultrasound technician pressed the wand to her belly and the rapid whoosh-whoosh of a tiny heartbeat fill

Ashley’s heart hammered so hard she was sure the entire room could hear it. The sheer white gown clung to her body like a second skin, the fabric so thin it might as well have been mist. Her wrists were bound loosely in front of her with silk rope, more symbolic than restrictive, but the effect was the same—she felt exposed, helpless, and utterly out of place.The underground auction hall smelled of expensive cologne, cigar smoke, and power. Crystal chandeliers cast golden light over velvet curtains and polished marble. Men in tailored suits lounged in plush chairs, eyes hungry as girls were paraded one by one. Ashley was the final lot. The virgin collateral.Her father’s debt had come to this.“Lot number twenty-three,” the auctioneer announced, voice smooth as oil. “Ashley Vale, twenty-two years old. Pure. Untouched. Art student. Father owes the Rossi family three-point-eight million. She is offered as full settlement.”Whispers rippled through the crowd. Ashley kept her gaze fixed

The penthouse was temporary. Three days after claiming her, Nico and Dante moved Ashley into their sprawling cliffside mansion—an impenetrable fortress of glass, stone, and dark luxury overlooking the ocean. Armed guards patrolled the grounds. High-tech security made escape impossible. This was her new cage, gilded and beautiful.They gave her a room connected to the master suite, filled with designer clothes, art supplies, and a king bed she rarely slept in alone. Rules were posted on the nightstand like a contract:- Always call them Daddy in the bedroom. - No panties unless given permission. - Obey instantly. - Good girls get rewards. Bad girls get punished.Ashley tested the rules on day two.She refused to kneel when Nico told her to. Dante had her bent over his lap in seconds, skirt flipped up, bare ass exposed. His large hand came down in sharp, stinging smacks—ten of them—until her skin glowed pink and she was dripping down her thighs.“Count them, princess,” Dante had g

The gala was a glittering den of wolves.Crystal chandeliers hung over the ballroom of the city’s most exclusive hotel. Ashley stood between Nico and Dante in a backless emerald gown that clung to every curve, the diamond choker at her throat catching the light with every breath. She looked every inch the Rossi trophy—elegant, untouchable, owned.Nico’s hand rested possessively on her lower back. Dante kept her tucked against his side, fingers tracing circles on her hip through the silk.“You’re stunning tonight, princess,” Nico murmured against her ear. “Be good for us.”She was trying. Smiling politely, staying quiet, playing the perfect captive. Until Marco Moretti approached.The rival underboss was handsome in a slick, dangerous way—sharp suit, easy smirk, and eyes that lingered too long on her cleavage.“Rossi,” Marco greeted Nico and Dante with a nod, then turned to Ashley. “And who is this vision? I don’t believe we’ve met.”Ashley offered a small smile. “Ashley.”“Beautiful n

The war started with blood on their doorstep.A severed head in a gift box delivered to the mansion gates at dawn—Marco Moretti’s lieutenant, eyes wide in death, a note pinned to his tongue: *Your whore is next.*Nico read the message once, jaw clenched so tight Ashley heard his teeth grind. Dante crushed the note in his fist and burned it in the fireplace while guards swarmed the property.“You’re not leaving this house,” Nico told her that night, voice like iron. “Not until we end them.”But the Morettis moved faster than anyone expected.Two nights later, while Nico and Dante were called away to an emergency meeting with their capos, the attack came. Explosions rocked the outer wall. Gunfire shattered windows. Ashley was dragged from her studio by two of their own guards, a black bag thrown over her head as they rushed her toward the panic room.She never made it.A traitor among the guards. A black van. The sharp prick of a needle in her neck.When she woke, she was chained to a m