Mia called. She’s in trouble.
Staring up at the ceiling, I snort out a bitter laugh. Trouble. Right. The kind of trouble that can only be solved with Daddy’s cock.
I swallow the tears that burn at the back of my throat. It’s my own fault, really. I knew who Ethan was when I married him. And I tried, so hard, to be what he needed from me. But everyDaddyfrom my lips felt like knives scraping my throat raw and the one and only time I let him put me in a diaper I lost the contents of my stomach all over him.
We’ve tried to make it work, despite all that. For a decade now we’ve worked on building a life together, on being happy together. And for a while, I thought we might make it.
Clearly, I was wrong.
Annoyed with myself for even caring when he so clearly does not, I climb out of bed to start my day. Ethan’s business brings in more than enough for us to not only live but live well, whichhas given me the freedom to do basically whatever the fuck I want. So today, like most days, I’ll be holed up in my studio, working on my newest commission. Artwork for an author who wants a very “not safe for work” scene from their upcoming book brought to life.
Once I’ve showered and dressed, I make my way down to the kitchen for breakfast.
And stop cold at the sight that greets me.
I’ve seen photos of Mia Whitaker before. But nothing could have prepared me for the heart-stopping beauty of her in the flesh. Pale gold ringlets frame a face God himself must have wept at when he formed it—perfectly heart-shaped with high cheekbones and full, pouty lips. One of Ethan’s old shirts hangs nearly to her knees, though the size of it does nothing to hide the lush curves beneath.
And when she looks up at me, the green-gold of her eyes nearly knocks me to my knees.
Jesus. No wonder Ethan went running when she called. I’d cheat on me too.
“Hi.” Her voice is as sweet as the rest of her, as is the shy smile curving her lips. “You must be Sloane. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Mia.”
“I know who you are.” The words come out harsher than I intend for them to, probably because my entire body is a haze of arousal. Mia flinches, her gaze dropping to the floor.
Feeling like a complete asshole, I force a smile and try to soften my tone. “Are you hungry? I was just getting ready to make some breakfast.”
“Yes, please.” Her bottom lip puffs out in the cutest fucking pout I have ever seen. “I wanted cereal but Da—Ethan said I had to have some protein first.”
So Ethan isn’t the only one who still thinks of himself as Mia’s Daddy. Or the only one who clearly hasn’t moved on.
I should be pissed about that. But what I am is the farthest thing from angry I’ve felt in nearly ten years.
As I watch her, this adorable little thing wearing my husband’s shirt and looking so fucking sweet I’m worried I’ll have a dozen cavities at my next dentist appointment, I feel a flutter of hope in my chest.
A plan forms in my mind and I wink at the sweet little cherub who might just be the answer to all my prayers. “What Ethan doesn’t know won’t hurt him. What kind of cereal do you want?”
Mia’s whole fucking face lights up as she bounces on her toes. “Fruity Pebbles!”
“Hmmm.” Opening the cabinet where we keep a couple boxes of sugary cereal stashed for whenever I have a craving, I scan the contents. “I don’t have those. How about Cocoa Puffs?”
“Okay!”
“Go sit at the table and I’ll make you a bowl.”
With a bounce in her step, she does exactly as I’ve told her and settles at the small nook in the corner of our kitchen. She’s so short, her feet don’t even touch the ground and she swings her legs as she hums happily.
Fucking. Adorable.
As soon as I set the bowl in front of her, she digs in with more of those happy little sounds and I almost feel bad about my plan.
Almost.
With her settled, I go about the business of making my own, much healthier breakfast. And wait.
Ethan’s heavy footsteps in the hall alert me to his presence a few moments before he steps into the kitchen. From the corner of my eye, I watch him go still, his gaze flicking between me and Mia, clearly torn on who to approach first.
But instead of the clawing jealousy I felt upstairs, now I’m simply curious to see who he chooses. And when it turns out to be me, I feel none of the smug satisfaction I expected tobut rather a stabbing disappointment that I’ll have to wait even longer to watch my plan in action.
