Make Me Moan, Daddy-Chapter 116

DOMENICO

"The first one was named Rose."

She went still. The name sat between us like a ghost.

"She needed protection," I continued. "A name. A connection that scared people away. I was that name, at least to her at the time. She knew what she was getting into."

"And you?"

"I needed an heir."

Her lips trembled. "Say that again and see if I don’t throw this bottle at your head."

"I needed an heir," I repeated quietly.

She inhaled sharply through her nose.

"She got pregnant on purpose," I said. "I knew it. I let it happen. Thought it would be simple."

"Simple," Reina echoed. "Did you ever once think about the woman? Or was she just a womb with a pulse?"

"I thought about survival."

"And did she survive you?"

The accusation in that question was brutal.

"She wanted more," I continued. "Marriage. Love. Permanence. I told her from the beginning I would not give that. I was not capable of it."

Reina leaned forward, eyes blazing. "Then why me? You said you want to marry me. What changed?"

Because you changed me.

Because I am terrified of losing you in a way I was never terrified of losing them.

Because when you walk away it feels like something vital is being torn out of my chest.

But the words lodged in my throat.

"You’re different," I said instead.

She laughed bitterly. "I’m not different. I just came later. After you practiced on them."

"You’re too jealous to listen, amore mio."

"Don’t call me that right now," she snapped. "I’m jealous because I have to sit here and picture you touching them. Making them feel safe. Whispering things in their ears. The same things you whisper to me."

"I did not love them."

"That’s not what I asked," she shot back. "Did you make them feel loved?"

Silence.

"Yes," I admitted.

Her face fell.

"The second woman was Ruby," I said more quietly. "She was kind. Too kind. She believed love could fix anything. Even me."

Reina’s jaw clenched. "And you let her try."

"Yes."

"Did you ever look at her the way you look at me?"

"No."

"How do you know?"

"Because when I look at you I feel fear."

She blinked. "Fear?"

"Yes. Of losing you."

The room went still.

"She had Paolo. Then Elisa," I continued, forcing myself to finish what she had asked for. "Rose left. Years later she returned. Broken. Alone. I let her stay."

"Out of pity," Reina said coldly.

"Yes."

"God," she whispered. "You destroy people and then you pity them."

"Lorenzo hated Ruby," I went on. "Hated that she stayed when his mother could not."

"What happened?"

"There was an incident. My rivals sent a message. Lorenzo disappeared. Ruby was found injured. Paolo stopped speaking for months. Elisa... she did not recover the same way."

Reina’s hand slowly lowered from the bottle.

"I placed her somewhere safe," I said. "Somewhere no one could exploit her."

"You locked her away."

"Yes."

"And Ruby?"

"She overdosed weeks later."

Reina looked at me like she was seeing the cost of loving me laid out in front of her.

"Do you feel responsible?" she asked quietly.

I paused.

"No."

The word came out cold. Defensive.

Her face hardened instantly. "You don’t get to be this detached."

"It was their choice."

"It was your world," she snapped. "You built it. You shaped it. And they paid for it."

She stood so abruptly the bottle rocked on the table.

For a second I thought she might throw it.

Instead she reached for her dress.

Her fingers fumbled with the fabric, catching in the zipper at the side. She swore under her breath and yanked harder than necessary. The sound of the zipper dragging up was sharp in the quiet room. Her hands were not steady. They trembled just enough to betray her.

"Take me home."

She did not look at me when she said it.

She stepped into her heels without sitting down, nearly losing her balance. I moved on instinct, a hand hovering near her waist. She slapped it away before I could touch her.

"Don’t," she said.

My hand dropped.

"Reina."

She inhaled like she was steadying herself before stepping onto a battlefield. "Please."

That word was quieter. Not sharp. Not biting. It slipped out of her like something fragile that had no armor.

She bent to grab her purse, but the strap tangled in the robe she had shrugged off earlier. She tugged at it impatiently, jaw clenched, eyes glossy but refusing to spill over.

I watched her throat work as she swallowed.

She would rather choke on the feeling than let me see it.

She moved toward the door without waiting for me, shoulders squared too straight, spine rigid. The posture of someone holding herself together by force.

I followed.

In the hallway, the hotel lights were too bright. They flattened everything. Her expression. The red rim around her eyes. The slight tremor in her bottom lip she kept biting between her teeth.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

She stepped inside first and turned her back to me immediately.

Not angled.

Not sideways.

Back fully to my chest like I was a stranger.

Her arms folded tight under her breasts, fingers digging into her own skin. I could see the imprint forming through the thin fabric of her dress. She pressed her lips together so hard they blanched.

The doors slid shut with a soft metallic sigh.

The mirrored walls caught her reflection from every angle.

I saw her see herself.

Her gaze locked onto her own eyes in the reflection. She studied them like she did not trust them. Like she was searching for proof of something. Or trying to erase something.

Her chin lifted a fraction.

Her shoulders rolled back.

A performance.

For who, I did not know.

Maybe for herself.

The elevator began to descend. The faint hum of machinery filled the silence between us.

I took half a step closer.

She shifted forward immediately.

Not dramatically.

Just enough to widen the space.

The rejection was precise.

Controlled.

Her hand rose to her mouth. She dragged her thumb across her lower lip, wiping away nothing. A nervous habit she would deny if I ever mentioned it.

Her eyes flicked to me in the mirror for a split second.

Then away.

Her throat moved again.

"Did you ever," she began, then stopped.

The elevator lights flickered slightly as we passed a floor.

She tried again.

"Did you ever bring them here?" she asked, still staring at the reflection instead of me.

"No."

A pause.

"Anywhere like this?"

"Yes."

Her jaw tightened.

She nodded once like she had expected that answer and hated that it still hurt.

She uncrossed her arms only to cross them again, this time tighter. Her nails pressed crescents into her upper arms.

"You looked at me tonight," she said quietly, "like I was the only woman in the world."

"You were."

Her lips parted slightly.

In the mirror I saw her eyes glisten.

"Did you ever look at them like that?" she asked.

The truth hovered in my chest, heavy and complicated.

"I do not remember looking at them the way I look at you."

She let out a small sound. It was not quite a laugh. Not quite a sob. Something in between that twisted in my gut.

"I can’t believe I half fell in love with him. Shameless. I am fucking shameless."

The elevator slowed.

She straightened fully now, mask sliding back into place. Her expression smoothed out. Her eyes dried by force of will.

The doors opened.

I reached for her hand.

My fingers brushed hers.

She hesitated.

For one heartbeat I thought she would pull away.

Instead she let my hand close around hers.

Her palm was cold.

But she did not curl her fingers back.

I held her hand.

She allowed it.

And the space between our fingers felt wider than the entire city waiting outside.

Why the fuck did this have to hurt so much?