Todos los capítulos de Daddy's Forbidden Little Pet: Capítulo 141 - Capítulo 150

I hired her myself.That was the first mistake.Isla Quinn sat across from me in the glass-walled office on the thirty-first floor, back straight, hands folded neatly in her lap. Twenty-four. Soft-spoken. Exceptionally qualified. She had the kind of quiet competence that made people underestimate her, and the kind of mouth that made it difficult to concentrate on her résumé.My husband needed a new live-in personal assistant. Someone discreet. Someone who could travel on short notice, manage his calendar, and stay out of the way when not required. I had insisted on conducting the final interviews myself.At the time I told myself it was because I didn’t trust his usual recruiter. The truth was simpler and less flattering: I wanted to see who would be sleeping under our roof.Isla answered every question with calm precision. When I asked why she wanted the position, she said, “I like structure. And I don’t mind long hours.”I watched the way her throat moved when she swallowed. The fai

I let her wait until the following evening.All day I kept her busy with ordinary tasks — correspondence, a few phone calls, the quiet organization of my husband’s study so it would be ready when he returned.Isla moved through the apartment with careful professionalism, but every time our eyes met the air between us tightened. She was thinking about the kiss. I made certain of it.At half past eight I found her in the kitchen again, standing at the counter with a glass of water. She had changed into the same soft gray set she wore the first night I had spoken to her properly. The sight of her bare legs under the hem of the shorts sent a slow pulse of heat through me.“You’re still awake,” I said.“I was about to go to bed.”“Not yet.”I walked past her, opened the wine fridge, and took out a bottle I had been saving. Isla watched me without speaking as I poured two glasses. When I held one out to her she took it, fingers brushing mine deliberately this time.“Come with me,” I said.I

The last day moved too quickly.I kept Isla close under the pretense of final preparations — reviewing the calendar for my husband’s return, airing out his study, making sure the apartment looked exactly as he expected to find it.In reality I simply didn’t want her out of my sight. Every time she left a room I felt the hours contracting.By late afternoon the careful version of her had returned. Hair neat. Soft blouse. The composed assistant who belonged to the household on paper. Only the faint bruise I had left on the inside of her thigh the night before, hidden beneath her trousers, remained as proof of everything else.At six I poured wine and called her into the living room.“He’s landing at eleven-forty,” I said. “The driver will bring him straight here. We have a few hours.”Isla stood near the glass, looking out at the city. “I should go back to my room soon. Make it look like I’ve been there the whole time.”“Not yet.”I set the wine down and walked to her. She turned as I a

I waited until Elise’s car disappeared around the corner at 9:40 the next morning.Then I cut through the hedge again, this time with nothing in my hands. No sugar. No eggs. No bottle of wine. Just me, in a soft linen dress that buttoned down the front and ended mid-thigh. I had left the top two buttons undone.Callum opened the door before I knocked. He must have seen me coming across the grass. For a second he simply looked at me, one hand still on the doorframe, the polite neighborhood expression already beginning to fracture.“You didn’t bring anything to borrow,” he said.“I ran out of excuses.”Something shifted in his eyes. He stepped aside and let me in.The house was quiet in the way only houses occupied by one person during the day can be. Callum closed the door and stayed near it, as if the extra foot of space might still protect him. I walked further into the kitchen and leaned against the island, facing him.“You’re staring,” I said softly.“You’re making it difficult not

Friday tasted like borrowed time.I cut through the hedge at 11:20 a.m., the moment Elise’s car was fully out of sight. Callum opened the back door before I reached it.He pulled me inside, locked it, and had me against the wall of the mudroom in the same breath. The kiss was harder than the day before — hungrier, edged with the knowledge that the easy hours were almost gone.“Upstairs,” he muttered against my mouth. “I don’t want to waste time.”We didn’t.He took me on the guest room bed with my dress shoved up to my waist and my legs over his shoulders, fucking me in deep, relentless strokes until I came twice and he followed with a low, broken sound against my throat.Afterward we lay tangled in the sheets, the midday light filtering through the half-closed blinds. His hand rested possessively between my thighs, fingers occasionally stroking through the wet mix of us, pushing some of it back inside.“Your husband lands Sunday at seven,” he said quietly.“Yes.”“Elise has a gallery