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The city was quiet. My body wasn't. Every step I took up the stairs felt like my bones were still trembling from him.
From his hands, the way he said my name like it was something he needed.
I showered, but nothing washed it off me. I only stood there with my body against the tile, trying to breathe normally again.
When I finally crawled into bed, my legs still felt weak.
I closed my eyes. But God, he was everywhere.
His voice, mouth, fingers. I fell asleep thinking about him.
The next morning I woke up to my mattress shaking like an earthquake.
"Daria! Daria wake up!" Lizzy yelled, bouncing on my bed like she was eight instead of sixteen. "Oh my God, what time did you get home? What happened? What did he say? Did he lie? Did you fight? Did you kiss? Tell me everything!"
I groaned and shoved my face into the pillow. "Lizzy, please. I got home late. Like really late. I'm tired."
She gasped. "How late? Oh my God. Did you go to his place? You kissed didn't you? I KNEW you would, I—"
"Lizzy," I said again, trying to sound normal even though my entire soul was melting into a puddle of shame and memory. "We hung out. He told me the girl isn't his girlfriend. That's all."
Hung out. Hung out?
He had me on that table like I was the only thing he'd ever wanted in his entire life.
Lizzy squinted at me. "You're lying."
"I'm not lying," I said quickly. Too quickly. "We just talked. That's it."
She flopped beside me, suspicious. "You better tell me the real version later. I don't believe this PG-13 summary."
"I'm serious, Liz. I'm exhausted. Can we talk about it later?"
She huffed but agreed. "Fine. But you're telling me everything tonight. Even the boring parts."
"There weren't any boring parts," I muttered without thinking.
She paused. "What?"
"Nothing! Close my door."
She giggled and hopped off the bed. "You're acting weird."
She left and the door clicked shut.
I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, heat spreading across my chest, I couldn't stop it.
I replayed everything. His mouth on mine.
His breath on my neck. The way he lifted me like I weighed nothing.
Oh gosh... the way he sounded saying "good girl."
My thighs pressed together automatically. I could feel the heat rush to my stomach.
I covered my face with both hands. "What is happening to me?"
I shouldn't want him like this, yet I do so much. He is dangerous in ways I don't even understand. He is older, darker, more intense than anyone I've ever met.
But last night... I would've let him have all of me.
I would have let him—
I sucked in a breath, my body tightening just from the thought.
He didn't even know. I never told him.
He probably assumes I'm experienced, that I've done everything.
But the truth?
I've kissed, been touched... well done a few things. But sex? Never.
I'm twenty-one and a virgin, and last night I was ready to let Nico Costa break me open without a single thought or hesitation.
"What is really wrong with me?" I whispered.
My hand dipped under the blanket before I could stop it, sliding into my panties as my mind replayed every breathless second with him. I could feel how soaked, I already was. I thought about his voice, fingers, grip, eyes.
I'd never touched myself thinking about anyone before. But with him... it felt impossible not to.
My lips parted, heat building as I touched myself, everything tightening—
My phone rang.
I ripped my hand away so fast my entire body jolted.
"Oh my god," I muttered, face on fire as I scrambled for my phone. "Hello?"
"Guess what!" Nessa screamed in my ear.
I groaned. "Nessa... it's eight in the morning."
"You're awake, perfect. I have something AMAZING to tell you."
"What?" I said, sitting up, still dizzy in my head.
"I found you another blind date!"
I blinked.
"What?"
"No, listen," she said dramatically. "This one is PERFECT. Like actually perfect."
"Nessa, I don't know if I—"
"Nope. I'm not taking no this time. You need to get out there. You need to meet someone nice. And not some, dangerous, emotionally unavailable man who looks like he could snap someone in half."
I stared at my ceiling in complete silence.
She meant Nico. I told her it's Nico, who interrupted the last date.
Of course. She seems to think he's dangerous, not good for me. She doesn't know him like I do.
"Can I think about it?" I said softly.
She sighed through the phone. "Fine. But I'm telling you, you're going to love this one."
"Okay," I said. "I'll... think about it."
We hung up.
I dropped my phone on my chest, heart pounding too fast.
What was I doing? What was happening?
I couldn't date someone else.
Not after last night, and the way Nico touched me. I fell apart in his hands. And it felt so good.
And I didn't know why, but in my bones, in that soft terrified place under my ribs...
I knew Nico wouldn't like this.
Not even a little.
And I wasn't sure what that meant for either of us.
I was in my office, frustrated out of my goddamn mind because I couldn't get the perfect pink girl out of my head.
I have never been this hard in my life.
It was pathetic. No, worse. It was dangerous.
I sat behind my desk, a man who once led interrogations without blinking, and now I couldn't even read one fucking email because all I kept seeing was her face.
Her tight, soft, innocent little pussy gripping my fingers like she was made just for me.
She was perfect. Too fucking perfect, my body knew it before my brain did.
Nothing calmed me, not cold showers, workouts, work.
Nothing.
The only cure was being inside her. Feeling her.
The only thing that seemed to matter anymore.
And that was bad.
Really, really fucking bad.
A knock sounded at my door.
"Boss?" Jules said.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "What."
He stepped inside with a folder tucked under his arm. "I found the information you asked for."
I sat up straighter. "Let's hear it."
He dropped into the chair across from me. "So... yeah. Daria is adopted."
I knew that.
He continued, "And I think she was a love child."
I stilled. My jaw tightened.
"When I checked into it, her real mother is... hard to trace. But I think I found her father."
"Her real father," I repeated. "He alive?"
"Oh yeah," Jules said. "Very alive."
My stomach twisted for reasons I didn't want to examine.
"Who is he?"
"I haven't found his name yet, but it links back to a few men in Upper Manhattan. One of them was having an affair with a woman in Queens. Her name was Bethany Knowles."
"Knowles," I murmured.
"Yes. She was young. African American. Worked as a hairdresser. From a small family. She hard to trace, almost like someone worked hard to keep her under the radar."
"And this father?" I asked.
"Rich," Jules said. "I think, Investor. Definitely married. Lives in one of those tall glass towers. Probably still married, living his life like nothing happened."
I felt heat crawl up my spine. Not the good kind. Not the kind she gave me.
"So he knocked someone young up in Queens, left her to raise a kid alone, and then climbed back into his penthouse bed with his wife?"
"That's what it looks like, boss."
"Trash," I muttered. "Rich fucking trash."
"Complicated," Jules corrected.
"Complicated is one word," I said lowly. "Coward is another."
Jules cleared his throat. "What do you want me to do next?"
"Keep looking for them. And keep an eye on her today."
"Yes, boss."
He left the room.
Silence sank in again.
I leaned back in my chair.
Daria's life was probably less complicated without knowing any of this. But it pissed me off.
All of it.
That someone like him got to walk around untouched while she grew up trying to be perfect for people who weren't even her real blood. He didn't take responsibility, he didn't stay.
I rubbed my jaw, letting out a breath.
"Maybe I should kill him when I find him," I muttered, and actually chuckled at the thought.
Yeah.
I was losing it.
Losing my fucking mind.
And it was all because of her.