10. Tessa
10
TESSA
M y phone buzzes nearly a dozen times, pulling me out of my peaceful nap. After my talk with Ronan about Daddy Dom dynamics, I came upstairs to take a nap and spent nearly an hour tossing and turning while the topic rolled around in my mind. Then, when I couldn’t stand it for another minute, I slid my hand into my panties and found release while I thought about Ronan being a Daddy— My Daddy to be specific. After that, I slept like a princess. It was lovely.
After rolling over, I grab my phone and squint at it, waiting for my eyes to focus.
Paige: Tessa, I’m adding you to the group chat with all of us girls.
Paisley: How are you feeling today after everything?
Katie: You looked beautiful yesterday.
Scarlet: Hopefully you don’t mind us bringing you into our friendship group. You’re stuck with us now.
Cali and Chloe chime in as well. As I read each of their messages, my smile widens. I don’t know these women. And from what I saw, they’re a little chaotic. But they’re also sweet, thoughtful, caring, and have been nothing but kind to me since yesterday. I’m not sure they’ll want to be my friend once they really get to know me, but I like that they’re including me. Even if it only lasts for the length of our arranged marriage, though my heart squeezes at the thought of that. All of this will end at some point. Whether I want it to or not.
Tessa: Hi everyone! Thanks for adding me. I’m okay. This all feels like a weird dream.
Scarlet: Weird or hot? Because have you seen your new husband?
Oh, I’ve seen him all right. Ronan has always been good-looking. Even when he was in his twenties, and I was only eight, before he was covered in so many tattoos. His piercing green eyes are enough to get lost in, but add in his tall, muscular frame, dark hair, perfectly trimmed beard, and an array of ink, and the man is beyond words. My favorite part about him, though, is his heart. Ronan has always been broody and quieter than his brothers, but underneath, he's a nice guy. Maybe I’m biased because he saved me and helped pull me together before taking me home to my parents. He let me cry on his shoulder and held me as I shook violently in his arms. He promised he’d never let anything happen to me again.
And here he is, downstairs with a ring on his finger that he bought for himself, making good on that promise.
Tessa: I plead the fifth.
Cali: LOL. Yes, girl!
Chloe: Definitely a hot dream. Or a wet one.
Paige: Ew. That’s my brother.
Katie: HAHA. Anyway, Tessa, we wanted to invite you over for a paint night tonight. Since we know you’re not having a traditional honeymoon phase, we figured you wouldn’t be too busy getting railed by your new husband.
Paige: OMG! EW!
Paisley: Although getting railed would be much more fun than a paint night.
Unknown number: Paisley, why the fuck did you just add me to this chat?
Paisley: Sorry, Daddy. Just thought you might want to know I’d like to get railed.
Unknown number: Jesus Christ.
Unknown number has left the conversation.
I laugh, covering my face with my hands as my cheeks burn. They really are a chaotic group, and I love it.
Tessa: I’d love to do a paint night. I’ll check with Ronan and get back to you.
Cali: Oh, you go, girl. Go check with Daddy Ronan and let us know.
My core clenches at the thought of Ronan being my Daddy. Does becoming my husband automatically make him that? He didn’t say he was my Daddy, and from our conversation, I gather that Ronan isn’t the type of guy to throw that kind of terminology around lightly. It was obvious he takes his role as a Dom very seriously. Which is actually pretty damn hot.
The idea of spending an evening with the girls stirs a cocktail of emotions in me: equal parts excitement, curiosity, and nerves. I kind of want to see the girls around their Daddies again. It was fascinating to watch at breakfast.
I need to check with Ronan first. It feels like the right thing to do being that he’s my husband, which is still strange to think about. Why do I want his approval? Am I into this whole Daddy Dom thing? No, definitely not. I’m just trying to be respectful in case he has something else planned for us for tonight. Not that I’d expect him to. He said he would marry me to get my parents off my back and that I’d live in his house during the duration of the marriage, but we never talked about hanging out or anything like that. Even if it is something that sounds like fun.
After visiting the bathroom and checking my reflection in the mirror, I spend a good ten minutes making myself look more together. Once I finish, I make a mental note to write to the cosmetic company that created the concealer I applied because, after just a few dabs, I look lighter, brighter, and more awake. Thank you, Fearless Beauty.
Ronan is sitting at the kitchen island with an open laptop in front of him. As soon as he sees me, he rises, his gaze assessing.
“Hi,” I say quietly, suddenly a little unsure of myself.
How is this man so hot?
“Hey, lass. Want something to drink? I can make you tea or hot chocolate or something stronger like whiskey.”
Fiddling with the hem of my shirt, I shake my head. “No, thank you, though.”
He glances at the seat beside his and motions toward it. “Come. Sit.”
It’s easy to follow his instructions. Mostly because it means I get to sit by him and breathe in his delicious cologne. Seriously, my new husband is every woman’s fantasy.
“Did you sleep well?” he asks, closing his laptop and turning to give me his full attention.
“I did. That bed is like a freaking cloud. It might be my new favorite hideout.”
His eyes glitter as the corners of his mouth turn up slightly. “Glad you like it. Guess I know where to look if I can’t find you.”
Fudge.
I like the thought of Ronan looking for me in bed. A lot.
“The girls invited me for a paint night tonight, but I wanted to check with you. I, uh, well,” my cheeks flush, and I dip my head, “I feel like I should check with you.”
Ronan’s gaze softens. “Of course. It’ll be good for you to spend time with them. Although I’m pretty sure their paint night is just an excuse to get drunk and eat a shit ton of candy. Every week, they come up with something different to do.”
Warmth spreads through me. I got the feeling they were all close. It’s sweet. They didn’t have to include me, but they did, and I’m both touched and a little nervous.
“Okay. Thanks.”
“I appreciate you asking. We may not be a traditional husband and wife, but I will want to know where you are at all times. It’s my job to protect you now, and I take that very seriously.”
The heat on my cheeks spreads all the way to my core. My pussy tingles, and I squeeze my thighs together in response. There’s something sexy about him wanting to know my whereabouts all the time. I’ve never had that before. Even when I was a teen, my parents never kept track of what I was doing or where I was. If they had, I might not have been walking down that street in downtown Seattle. Some might think what Ronan said is over the top or controlling, but it makes me feel safe and cared for.
Ronan’s gaze narrows, and he smiles as if he knows my secret, but he doesn’t bring attention to it. Instead, he opens his laptop again and slides on a pair of black-rimmed glasses. “Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll drive you to their house.”
Holy, mother of… The man wears glasses.
How am I supposed to survive this marriage without doing one of two things: either jumping his bones or falling head over heels for him? My biggest fear is that I might end up doing both.
W hen I arrive at Declan and Cali’s house, the dining room is transformed into an art studio, complete with blank canvases, palettes, and a seemingly endless supply of paint. Bottles of wine and a mountain of snacks occupy one corner while Cali bustles around, pouring drinks and organizing brushes.
“Tessa, you made it!” She beams, handing me a very full glass of wine. She’s wearing an oversized shirt covered in colorful splatters, her enthusiasm is downright contagious. “Grab a canvas and pick a spot!”
Scarlet, already seated with a brush in hand, waves me over. “You’re late,” she teases, her grin mischievous. “I’ve already claimed the best colors.”
“Oh, please,” Paisley says, rolling her eyes as she sets a bowl of grapes next to her. “There’s plenty of paint to go around. Sit down, Tessa, and ignore her.”
Katie and Chloe wave from the far end of the table, and Paige rushes over to hug the living daylights out of me.
Once we’re all settled, Cali turns on a Party Beats playlist, and the seven of us start painting. I’m no artist, but it’s still fun, and the wine intensifies that. Soon, we’re giggling and talking about random stuff. Cali keeps our glasses full, and I can’t seem to stop eating handfuls of Peanut Butter M&M’s.
It doesn’t take long for the conversation to veer into uncharted territory.
“So,” Cali says, dipping her brush into a deep blue paint. “Has anyone explained the whole Daddy Dom thing to you yet? Because I saw your face this morning when Chloe called Bash ‘Daddy.’”
I nearly choke on my wine, and Paige bursts into laughter. “Oh my God, are we really going there?”
“Yes, we’re going there,” Scarlet says, her wicked grin stretching wider. “Tessa needs to know what she’s signed up for.”
“I’ve… gotten the gist,” I manage, my cheeks warming as I swirl paint onto my canvas. “But it’s still kind of confusing to me.”
“Confusing how?” Cali asks. “It’s a dynamic. Declan’s my anchor. He takes care of me in a way no one ever has, and I love leaning into that.”
“And calling him Daddy doesn’t weird you out?” I ask.
Scarlet snorts. “Not even a little. It’s not about the word itself—it’s about what it represents. Security, trust, love. It feels natural.”
Chloe chimes in, her cheeks pink from the wine. “It’s about letting go. Bash takes the lead, and I trust him completely. It’s not about control in a bad way—it’s about knowing he has my back. Besides, being controlled consensually is pretty dang hot.”
“So hot,” Paisley adds with a wink, sending the room into fits of laughter.
Even though it’s new to me, I definitely see the attraction of it. And based on how intense my orgasm was earlier while thinking about calling Ronan Daddy, I’d say I’m a little more than intrigued.
Paige glances at me, grinning. “So, do you think you might want this with Ronan?”
The question makes me pause, my brush hovering in midair. “I don’t know. It’s not like that with us. He’s not into me like that. We’re… friends… kind of. I don’t even know if that’s the right word for it. If I were going to try something like that, though, I think I’d want a Daddy like Ronan.”
The girls exchange knowing looks, and Scarlet grins. “Oh, you definitely would want him for a Daddy. He’d be so good at it. Ronan’s not the type to half-ass anything. If he’s in, he’s all in.”
“God help me,” I mutter, which only makes them giggle harder.
By the end of the night, my canvas looks like a toddler’s experiment with finger paint. Paige is laughing so hard at her own failed attempt at a sunset that she almost spills her wine. We compliment one other’s disasters, giving support to one another like good friends do, and as we pack up, I realize something I hadn’t expected—I actually feel lighter. Freer. Happier than I have been in years. Maybe ever.
T he next few days drag by in a haze of quiet days and stolen glances. Ronan leaves early to go to work doing whatever mobsters do. By the time I shuffle downstairs, the house is empty, only the lingering scent of his cologne giving me a sense of him with me. And every morning, there’s a fresh pot of coffee made, and somehow, my favorite creamer has appeared in the fridge.
I try to stay busy. Most of my mornings are spent at the kitchen counter, my laptop glowing in front of me while I search for a job.
The afternoons are easier. Paige and the girls make sure of that. They invite me to coffee, shopping, and the movies. Everywhere we go, there’s half a dozen hulking bodyguards with us. At first, the large men made me uneasy, but it didn’t take long before I realized they were truly there to protect us. With them around, I can walk down a sidewalk next to the girls without having a panic attack or looking over my shoulder, waiting to be grabbed again.
But no matter how much fun I have with them, there’s a lingering ache in my chest when I come back to Ronan’s empty house. Part of me wonders if he’s been making himself scarce on purpose so he doesn’t have to be around me. When we see each other for brief periods of time, our conversations flow easily, but it’s always small talk. The weather, what my schedule is, him asking if I need anything. He texts me here and there to ask if I’ve eaten. If I say no, food is delivered directly to the front door within minutes. He’s always thoughtful of my needs, and it’s doing funny things to me. Paige comes and goes, but she’s gone more often than not, with her first interior design job having already started.
This evening, after eating dinner, I’m curled up on the couch with a blanket and a movie on when I hear the front door close. My breath hitches, the familiar sound sending my heart racing. I hear his footsteps before I see him—steady, purposeful, each one stirring something restless inside me.
When Ronan steps into view, I almost forget to breathe. He doesn’t have his suit jacket on, just his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the strength of his tattooed arms. The short, neatly trimmed beard covering his jaw makes him look dangerous, but it’s the exhaustion in his eyes that tugs at me. He looks worn down, like he’s been carrying the weight of the world all day.
“Hey,” he says quietly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.
“Hey.”
He hesitates, his dark eyes scanning the room before they land on me. Something flickers in his expression—something unreadable that sends a shiver down my spine. The air between us is charged, like an unspoken conversation is hanging there, waiting to be addressed. For a moment, I think he’s going to say something more, but then he nods, turning toward the stairs. Then he pauses and turns back toward me.
“Goodnight, Tessa,” he says almost hesitantly.
“Goodnight,” I reply, the word catching in my throat as I watch him disappear up the stairs.
The silence that follows feels heavier than before, but this time, there’s a crackle of something else within it. Something that wasn’t there before. It lingers as I shut off the laptop and climb the stairs myself, each step feeling more deliberate, more aware.
When I reach my room, I close the door softly, leaning against it for a moment. My heart is still racing, and I don’t know if it’s from the quiet tension of our exchange or the way he looked at me—like he was seeing more than I was willing to show.
I climb into bed, pull the blanket to my chin, and stare at the ceiling. I tell myself it doesn’t mean anything. That it’s just the circumstances, the odd intimacy of sharing a house but not a life. But deep down, I know better. There’s something between us. Something that’s growing, slow and steady, with every passing day.
And I’m not sure I know how to stop it or if I even want to.