Daddy's Secret Sin

Chapter 8

Cracks in the Secret

Aria woke to the low sound of Victor’s voice in the other room.

She lay still for a moment, naked beneath the expensive sheets, the faint ache between her legs a reminder of how many times he had taken her during the night. The city was already bright beyond the windows. Morning light spilled across the bed in clean white lines.

She slipped out of bed, pulled on one of his discarded shirts, and padded quietly toward the sound of his voice. Victor stood near the windows of the living room, phone pressed to his ear, already dressed in dark trousers and a fresh shirt. His tone was calm, clipped, the same controlled voice he used when he wanted something handled without argument.

“I understand your concern, Ryan. But my schedule is not up for discussion.” A pause. “No. I will not be coming by the apartment today.” Another pause, longer this time. “We’ll talk later.”

He ended the call and turned. When he saw her standing there in his shirt, something hungry flickered across his face before he locked it down.

“He called,” Aria said quietly.

“He did.” Victor set the phone on the counter. “He’s pushing harder. Asking questions about where I’ve been the last few nights.”

Aria’s stomach tightened. “What did you tell him?”

“That I have work. That I’m not obligated to explain my movements to my twenty-six-year-old son.” He walked toward her, stopping close enough that she could smell his cologne mixed with the faint scent of their night together. “But he’s not stupid, Aria. And he’s not going to stop.”

She looked down at the hem of his shirt against her thighs. “Maybe we should slow down.”

Victor’s hand came up, two fingers lifting her chin until her eyes met his. “Is that what you want?”

The truth sat heavy on her tongue. She should say yes. She should protect whatever pieces of her life were still intact. Instead she whispered, “No.”

Something like relief and possession mixed in his gray eyes. He leaned down and kissed her — slow, deliberate, tasting her like he had every right. When he pulled back, his voice was low.

“Then we don’t slow down. We get smarter.”

They showered together under the rainfall showerhead, steam filling the large marble bathroom. Victor washed her with careful hands that quickly turned less careful. By the time he lifted her against the tiled wall and pushed inside her again, Aria was already shaking. He f****d her slow and deep, one hand braced beside her head, the other gripping her thigh, until she came with a muffled cry against his shoulder. He followed soon after, forehead pressed to hers, breathing hard.

Afterward he dressed for work while she sat on the edge of the bed wrapped in a towel. The domestic quiet of it felt more dangerous than the s*x. This was the part that would break her if she let it — the soft moments between the hunger.

Victor adjusted his cuffs, then came to stand in front of her. “I have meetings until six. Come back tonight.”

“I have a deadline,” she said, though the protest sounded weak even to her.

“Bring your laptop. Work from here.” His thumb brushed her lower lip. “I want you in my bed when I get home.”

Aria nodded, already knowing she would come.

She left his building a little after ten, the taste of him still on her tongue. The city felt different now — sharper, more dangerous. Every time her phone buzzed she expected Ryan’s name. When it finally did light up with his message an hour later, her pulse jumped.

Can we meet today? Just coffee. Please. I need to see you.

She stared at the screen for a long time before typing back.

One coffee. Public place. That’s it.

They met at a quiet café three blocks from her apartment. Ryan was already there when she arrived, looking tired and hopeful in a way that made guilt twist hard in her chest. He stood when he saw her, then sat again when she didn’t move closer.

“You look different,” he said after a moment.

Aria’s fingers tightened around her coffee cup. “People change when they get cheated on.”

He flinched. “I know I f****d up. I know I don’t deserve another chance. But something feels off. With you. With my dad. He’s been… distant. Cold. And the way he looked at you that day in the apartment—”

“Stop.” Her voice came out sharper than she intended. “Your father has nothing to do with this.”

Ryan studied her face. “Doesn’t he?”

The question hung between them like a live wire. Aria forced herself to hold his gaze even as her heart slammed against her ribs. Somewhere under the table her thigh still carried the faint bruise from Victor’s fingers the night before.

“I came here for closure,” she said carefully. “Not an interrogation. You slept with my best friend. That ended us. Everything else is just noise.”

Ryan leaned forward. “Then why do I feel like I’m missing something bigger?”

Because you are, she thought. Because while you’re sitting here begging for pieces of me, your father had me against his shower wall this morning and I came so hard I saw stars.

She stood instead of answering. “I have to go.”

“Aria—”

“Don’t call me again, Ryan. Please.”

She walked out before he could say anything else. The cool air hit her face like a slap. Her hands were shaking. She made it two blocks before she pulled out her phone and typed a single message to the number she had saved under nothing but a string of digits.

He knows something’s wrong. He’s pushing.

The reply came less than a minute later.

Come to me tonight. We’ll handle it.

Aria stopped on the sidewalk, staring at the words. The city moved around her — people, cars, ordinary lives that didn’t involve f*****g their ex’s father in secret. She should have felt panic. She should have felt the urge to end this before it destroyed everything.

Instead she felt the low, dangerous pull of him already settling under her skin.

She typed back.

I’ll be there.

Some secrets didn’t crack all at once.

They split slowly, quietly, until one day there was nothing left to hold them together.

And Aria was starting to wonder how much longer theirs could last.