CHAPTER 1
ETHAN
It’s funny how you can be sitting right next to someone and still feel a million miles apart.
My wife, the woman I vowed to love and cherish ‘til death do we part, is curled up on the couch next to me, my arm draped around her shoulder and her head resting on my chest. And yet, she might as well be in another room, another house. We’ve barely said two words to each other since I walked in the door and even though we occasionally laugh at the same jokes or gasp at the same supposedly shocking moments, it barely feels like we’re watching the show together.
I’m considering just calling it a fucking night and heading up to bed when my pocket begins to vibrate. Sloane sits up with an annoyed little huff, her heavy breasts swaying beneath my way-too-big-for-her t-shirt as she shifts positions. Ignoring her passive-aggressive sounds, I pull my phone free and frown down at the display. I don’t recognize the number, despite it being local. It’s probably spam, but whatever. At least it will give me an excuse to step away for a few minutes.
“Gotta take this.”
Another annoyed sound and a roll of my wife’s eyes. “Whatever.”
My palm physically itches to spank some respect into her perfect, round ass. But as we discovered far too late, while Sloane enjoys some occasional pain play, she’s not at all the submissive type.
Unfortunately for us, and our marriage.
Shoving the decade-old disappointment aside, I hit the button to answer the call and head for the kitchen. “Hello?”
My greeting is met with silence, followed by a shaky breath and a soft voice I haven’t heard in over ten years outside of my dreams. “Daddy?”
And just like that, I’m twenty-five again, with my sweet babygirl sniffling and whimpering in my arms after a thorough spanking. Gripping the edge of the counter to prevent myself from falling to my suddenly weak knees, I swallow hard. “Mia? What’s wrong, angel?”
Fucking hell, what’s wrong with me? My wife is in the next room, and here I am calling another woman “angel”.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Mia’s words are rushed, an edge of breathless panic to them that cuts through my self-loathing and jerks my attention back to the voice on the phone. “I know I shouldn’t have called but I didn’t know who else to ask and—I’m sorry, I’m stupid, I should go.”
“Little girl, don’t you dare hang up that phone,” I growl, my own panic sitting heavy in my chest. “Slow down and tell Da—tell me what’s going on.”
“I need help.” Her voice trembles, the way I remember it used to when she was scared or upset. “I need… I need to get out.”
Without even thinking, I turn and head for the door. “Text me your address, baby. I’m on my way.”
A soft sob comes through the speaker. “I will. Thank you. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize and don’t move. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
Closing my eyes, I drop my head against the cool wood of our front door. There have been times over the past decade where I would have given anything to hear those words again.
Hearing them from a woman I can’t have, while the woman I vowed to love and be faithful to for the rest of my life sits just a few feet away, is the cruelest twist of fate I can imagine.
But Mia needs me. So I tell her again to sit tight, that I’m on my way, and end the call. Grabbing my keys, I poke my head back in the living room. “I have to go.”
Sloane barely glances up from the tv. “Okay.”
I hesitate, torn between my wife and my babygirl. “I, ah, might have company when I get back.”
That gets her attention. Frowning now, she pauses the show and looks up. “Who?”
“Mia.”
The furrow between her brows deepens. “Mia, as in your ex-girlfriend, Mia?”
“Yeah. Apparently she’s in some kind of trouble.”
Sloane rolls her eyes. “So of course she called herDaddy.”
