Todos os capítulos de Claimed by Her Father's Shadow : Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

The Callahan house smelled like it always had. Garlic, tomato sauce, and the faint cedar undertone of Patrick’s aftershave. The dining room table was set casually with paper plates, plastic cups, two extra-large pizza boxes already open in the center. Patrick stood at the head, pouring wine into mismatched glasses, laughing at something Elena had just said.Bridget walked in first. Alexander followed a beat later, close enough that she felt the heat of him at her back, far enough that no one would notice.“Bridge! Alex!” Patrick’s face lit up. He pulled her into a quick hug, then clapped Alexander on the shoulder like they were still the same two men who’d once fixed a boat engine together at three in the morning. “About time. Elena got here early, said she couldn’t wait to see you two.”Elena turned from the kitchen doorway, wineglass in hand, smile polished and perfect. Her dark hair was swept into a low chignon, red dress hugging every curve she knew still turned heads. She looked

Alexander left the mansion twenty minutes after the photo arrived. Bridget stood at the bedroom window, naked and still trembling from the marathon of sex that had left every room reeking of them. Her skin was a map of his possession: red bite marks on her breasts, fingerprint bruises blooming purple on her hips and inner thighs, faint beard burn across her collarbone and the tender skin between her legs. She pressed a palm to the glass as his black SUV disappeared around the curve, taillights swallowed by the gray afternoon.She didn’t know what to feel. Fear, love, want.She dressed mechanically. Yoga pants that chafed against the rawness between her thighs, an oversized sweatshirt that swallowed her whole, no bra because even the soft cotton felt like sandpaper on nipples still swollen and hypersensitive from his mouth and fingers. She gathered her things with shaking hands, locked the front door with the spare key he’d slipped her last week, and drove back to her father’s house o

Bridget’s phone burned against her thigh like a brand. Under the tablecloth, Jake’s new screenshot glowed of her face caught mid-moan, office lights painting her cheeks in guilty gold. The threat: *Delete this and I send it to Daddy. Or come to my desk tomorrow at 8. We negotiate.*She forced her smile wider across the candlelit table. Patrick was laughing at something Alex had said, the two of them trading easy barbs the way they always had. Alex’s hand stayed on her thigh, thumb still stroking slow, possessive circles. The contrast of his warm claim versus the ice flooding her veins made her dizzy.“Excuse me,” she murmured, voice steadier than she felt. “Bathroom.”Patrick waved her off without looking up. Alex’s eyes flicked to hers, questioning, but he said nothing.In the marble guest bathroom, Bridget locked the door and leaned against the sink. Cold water stung her face. She stared at the flushed girl in the mirror, her lips still swollen from earlier, eyes wide with the same

Bridget’s pulse hadn’t slowed since lunch. The supply closet on the twenty-second floor was a narrow, windowless room wedged between the copier alcove and the stairwell. Dim, dusty, smelling of cardboard and printer toner. At 2:58 p.m. she slipped inside, heart hammering so hard she felt it in her throat. Alex was already waiting in the back corner with his tie gone, top button of his shirt open, eyes glittering like he’d been counting the seconds.The instant the door clicked shut behind her he locked it, spun her, and pinned her chest-first against the cold steel shelving causing boxes around them to shift, as a stack of legal pads teetered.“Five minutes max before the afternoon rush hits the copier right outside,” he breathed against her ear, voice rough. “So you’re going to come fast and quiet for me.” He didn’t ask. He yanked her skirt to her waist, shoving her panties to the side, he dropped to one knee. His mouth sealed over her clit without warning without warning or mercy.

Bridget sat across from the blind date Patrick had picked for her. Some finance bro named Ryan with a perfect smile and zero edge. She checked her phone for the third time under the table. The restaurant was nice, the wine decent, but every word out of Ryan’s mouth felt like static. She forced a laugh at his golf story, then typed a quick reply to Alex’s latest text: *Leave now. Parking garage. Level 3. I need you.*Ryan was mid-sentence when she stood. “I’m so sorry. Work emergency. I have to go.”He blinked, surprised but polite. “No problem. Rain check?”“Sure,” she lied without exactly listening, already grabbing her bag. The drive to the garage took twelve minutes. She parked on level 3, killed the engine, and waited.Alex’s black SUV slid into the spot beside her not thirty seconds later. He got out without saying a word, opened her passenger door, and pulled her straight into his lap the moment she climbed over. The garage was dimly lit, cameras blind in this corner, but the