All Chapters of A Night In Daddy's Bed: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

HARRISON'S POV When it was finally over, I felt exactly as I had on my very first day at boarding school. Abandoned. Displaced. Untethered. The sensation crept in slowly at first and then settled deep, heavy and undeniable, until it pressed against my ribs like something alive.One memory returned with unsettling clarity, vivid in both light and shadow. I was standing on the stone steps of Charterhouse, my suitcase beside me, my fingers clenched too tightly around the handle. My father hugged me, firm and brief, and I remember the way he felt the tremor in my chest, the sob I was trying so hard to swallow.“Not in front of your mother,” he whispered.Then he turned away, already walking, already leaving, and said to her over his shoulder, “Not in front of the boy,” just as she dabbed hurriedly at her eyes, trying to compose herself. That moment stayed with me—the restraint, the silence, the unspoken understanding that emotion was something to be managed, not displayed.Jock insisted

HARRISON'S POVIt had rained the entire walk to Covent Garden, the kind of persistent drizzle that seeped through fabric and settled into your bones before you even realised it. By the time I stepped into the restaurant, I was damp, irritable, and more aware of my own exhaustion than I wanted to be. I shook out my coat near the entrance, sending a faint spray of water to the tiled floor, then handed it off to a waitress who barely glanced at me. Drops slid from my hairline, tracing slow paths down my forehead, and I wiped them away with the back of my hand as I made my way to the table.Elisa arrived fifteen minutes later.Even before she reached me, she drew attention. She always did. Wrapped in a black overcoat with a fur collar, she carried warmth with her, something almost defiant against the grey outside. When she slipped the coat off, it revealed a dark blue camisole held up by thin spaghetti straps and a matching mini skirt that clung to her hips like it belonged there. Her sto

HARRISON'S Bobby sighed and pushed himself to his feet, the sound carrying a faint note of impatience. The conversation had begun to bore him, that much was obvious. We hadn’t even made it past the half-hour mark, yet he was already done, already withdrawing, as though the entire session had been a waste of his time. Maybe it had been. Maybe it should never have started at all. Eddie Barrett would have a field day with this.I followed Bobby out into the outer office, unable to stop myself. There was a restless urgency building in me, a need I couldn’t quite name. Part of me wanted him to stay. I wanted to press harder, to push further, to shake the tree and see what fell loose from its branches. I wanted something solid. Something real.The truth.Bobby stood waiting at the lift, his broad frame occupying the space as if it belonged to him. The doors slid open with a soft mechanical sigh.“Good luck,” I said.He turned, looking at me with a flicker of curiosity, as though the words

HARRISON'S POV The clock at Lime Street Station glowed white, its solid black hands pointing firmly to eleven. I moved quickly across the concourse, passing the coffee stand and the shuttered public toilets, my footsteps echoing faintly against the high ceiling.A cluster of teenage girls stood off to one side, their voices rising and falling at what felt like a hundred and ten decibels, their conversation drifting through a haze of cigarette smoke.It was colder here than in London, at least five degrees colder, with a sharp wind cutting in from the Irish Sea. I half expected to look up and see icebergs drifting somewhere on the horizon. Across the way, St George’s Hall loomed, its stone façade catching what little light there was. Banners snapped violently in the wind, advertising the latest Beatles retrospective.I passed the larger hotels along Lime Street without slowing, instinctively drawn instead to the side streets, searching for something smaller, less conspicuous. Near the

HARRISON'S POV The message came at the worst possible time.I was in the middle of a meeting and I almost ignored it. Then I saw her name.Ruby.My heart stopped.For a second, everything else faded into nothing. The room, the voices, the spreadsheets projected on the wall—gone. It was just that name staring back at me like a second chance I didn’t deserve.Come to this address. Please.That was all she wrote.I was already on my feet before my mind caught up with my body.“I have to go,” I said abruptly, grabbing my jacket.The men around the table stared at me, confused. One of them started to protest, something about the importance of the meeting, but I didn’t wait to hear it.Nothing was more important than her.Nothing ever had been.The drive felt like torture.My fingers tightened around the steering wheel as my thoughts spiraled.Was she okay?Why did she sound like that?Why now?After everything… after the way she had looked at me the last time, like I was nothing but a st