I hear the faint tick tick tick of the wall clock like a countdown to exposure.
“I read,” I lie smoothly, sipping my coffee. My voice is iron. Unshakable. “She went to bed.”
But my girl’s hand twitches on the counter. Just the slightest tremor, a giveaway. My eyes cut to hers, hard, sharp, warning: Don’t.
Kate narrows her gaze. “Right…”
Her suspicion blooms, filling the space like smoke. My daughter—my innocent little girl who still thinks the worst thingI do is work too late — is looking at me like she doesn’t quite recognise the man sitting across from her.
And she shouldn’t. Because I’m not a father at this table. I’m the monster who ruined her best friend while she slept.
“Anyway,” Kate says after a beat too long, standing to fetch the orange juice, “if you two are keeping secrets, I’ll find out.” She laughs lightly, but there’s steel beneath it.
I remain still and silent until she turns around.
Then I lean slightly closer, so low only she can hear. “Smile,” I murmur against her ear. “Or she’ll eat you alive.”
She jumps, eyes wide, cheeks flaming as she forces a shaky laugh at nothing. Kate turns back, and I sit back smoothly, sipping my coffee, mask flawless.
But under the table, I let my knee brush hers—just enough pressure to remind her who she belongs to.
She flinches, then presses back.
Kate doesn’t notice.
But she will.
And the danger of it—the sharp edge of almost being caught—makes me want to drag her upstairs and fuck her until she screams.
Kate sets the juice on the counter, pours herself a glass, and leans against the island, eyes flicking between us like she’s watching some private show. She sips slowly, deliberately, like she’s waiting for one of us to slip.
“Tell me,” she asked, her voice light, “what did you two chat about last night?”
My grip on the mug tightens. She’s testing me. She doesn’t know why yet, but she smells blood.
“Work,” I answer, clipped. “Deadlines. Numbers. Boring things.”
Kate hums, unconvinced. Her gaze slides to her, sharp as a blade. “And you couldn’t sleep after all that thrilling business talk?”
She stumbles, caught between the truth and the lie. “I—just… my head was busy.”
Kate smirks, the kind of smirk that makes me want to snap, You don’t know a damn thing, little girl, don’t look at her like that.
Instead, I take another calm sip of coffee. Mask. Always the mask.
Kate tilts her head, eyes narrowing, that grin too knowing. “Funny. You’ve never been this cagey with me before.”
“I’m not being cagey,” she blurts, defensive, cheeks colouring.
Fuck. Wrong move. I cut her a look, sharp enough to slit her open, silently begging her to shut her mouth before she burns us both.
Kate notices the look. I saw it land. She blinks, as if she’s filing it away.
“So protective,” she teases, but there’s something underneath, something quieter, sharper. “Since when are you two so… close?”
The air goes knife-edge.
Her eyes dart from her flushed face to my blank one.
