Semua Bab DIRTY DESIRES: DADDIES TASTE BETTER: Bab 1 - Bab 10

Lia’s POVHis words hit me hard. Like cold water thrown in my face. Like being slapped.I froze. My whole body went stiff. Those words kept repeating in my head. Like a little slut. Like a little slut. Like a little slut.The warm feelings I'd had—the wanting, the desire—all disappeared in a second. Something cold and empty took their place. It sat in my chest like a rock. Shame. Hurt. Confusion.He let go of my arm and turned his back to me. He pulled the blanket over his shoulder with a hard pull. The movement said it all—he was done with me. Within seconds, his breathing went back to normal. He was asleep again. Just like that. Like nothing happened. Like he hadn't just called me a slut for wanting my own boyfriend.I lay there in the dark, frozen, staring at the back of his head. At his shoulder under the blanket. At his messy brown hair on the pillow.His words kept playing in my mind over and over. Stop acting like a little slut. Each time, they hurt more.Was I a slut for wanti

Lia’s POVThe words hit me like a physical blow. Like he'd reached across the space between us and punched me in the stomach.Better than I ever did.I thought about all the times I'd tried to please him. All the times I'd gotten on my knees for him, wanting to make him feel good, wanting him to want me. How I'd tried to learn what he liked, asked him to tell me how to do it better. How he'd just lie there silent and bored, never giving me any feedback, never showing any enthusiasm.I'd thought it was me. That I wasn't good enough. That I didn't know how to do it right.But he'd never wanted me to do it right. He just didn't want me.More tears spilled down my face. My whole body was shaking now, trembling with hurt and anger and humiliation."How could you?" I whispered, my voice breaking. "How could you do this to me?"Rob sighed heavily, like I was exhausting him. Like I was the problem here."Jesus, you're so dramatic," he muttered, pulling out his phone again. "It didn't mean any

When I finally got to my room, I stopped in the doorway and just stared.It was beautiful. Really, genuinely beautiful. The room was spacious and airy, with high ceilings and large windows that looked out over the water. The last light of the evening was painting the Mediterranean in shades of orange and pink and gold, and for a moment I forgot how terrible the day had been and just stood there taking it in.The bed was enormous, dressed in crisp white linen that looked like it had never been slept in. There were fresh flowers on the bedside table—white and pale pink, filling the room with a soft, sweet scent. A ceiling fan turned slowly overhead, pushing the warm island air around gently.I noticed my suitcase was nowhere to be seen. Then I spotted my things—already unpacked, already neatly arranged in the dresser drawers and the wardrobe. Someone had done it for me while I was still downstairs. Every folded shirt, every pair of jeans, every simple, ordinary, cheap item of clothing I

Dinner was held in a dining room that could have comfortably seated thirty people. The table was long and dark and polished to a mirror shine, set with fine china and crystal glasses and more pieces of silverware than I knew what to do with. Candles burned in tall holders down the center of the table, casting everything in a warm, flickering glow. The whole room smelled of good food and fresh flowers and money.There were only three of us at that enormous table. Victor at the head. Rob to his left. Me to his right.Dante's seat stayed empty.The food came out in courses, brought by the quiet, efficient staff who appeared and disappeared like shadows. Each dish was better than the last—fresh seafood, pasta that tasted nothing like anything I'd ever made at home, bread still warm from the oven, olive oil that tasted like it had been pressed that morning.I focused on the food because it gave me somewhere to put my eyes.Rob was on his phone for most of it. He ate with one hand and scrol

It was deep. Deeper than Rob's. Deeper than Victor's, even. Low and unhurried and carrying easily across the still night air without being raised at all. It was the kind of voice that didn't need to try hard to be heard. The kind of voice that expected to be listened to.There was something in it that I couldn't immediately identify. Not anger. Not alarm. Amusement, maybe. Faint, dry, barely there—but there.I stayed frozen behind the plant for one more humiliating second, still clinging to the completely irrational hope that if I just didn't move, this would somehow resolve itself."I can see your shadow," he added simply.I closed my eyes. Of course he could.I straightened up slowly and stepped out from behind the plant, smoothing down the front of my t-shirt with hands that weren't entirely steady. My face was burning. I was grateful for the darkness.He was at the edge of the pool now, his arms resting on the tiled rim, his body still in the water. His dark hair was pushed back f