Dirty Daddies Underground

Chapter Eleven

Harper’s POV

It takes me three hours to get through everything they sent. Three long hours of reading, double-checking, hesitating, and then pushing myself to keep going, because if I stop now, I might never finish. I tick each box carefully, pausing often to think about what I’m really comfortable with, and what I’ve only ever pretended to be okay with. The list is overwhelming in its detail, more thorough than I expected, but I understand why it matters. It isn’t just a form, it’s a map, and if I lie on it, I’ll only be leading myself somewhere I don’t want to go.

When it’s done, I attach the file and send it back. My hands are shaking a little, and I don’t even know if it’s fear or anticipation anymore. It might be both.

I don’t have time to sit with that feeling, though, because the front door opens and Mark steps inside. I close the app in a heartbeat and slide the phone into the cushion beside me. He’s already smiling, a rare, open kind of smile that immediately makes me nervous, because when Mark smiles like that, it usually means something for me is about to change.

“Get dressed,” he says, dropping a shopping bag onto the chair and already moving toward the bedroom. “We’re going out.”

My eyes narrow slightly, confused. “Out where?”

He stops and looks over his shoulder at me, then walks back and presses a kiss to my cheek, the warmth of it at odds with the sharpness I know is always waiting underneath. “To celebrate. I got the promotion.” His voice is light, but there’s pride there too, the kind that demands acknowledgment. “So come on. Let’s have a good night, yeah?”

I nod, not wanting to disrupt his mood. I take the bag and head to the bedroom, knowing what I’ll find inside before I even open it. The dress fits me exactly. He buys clothes that suit his taste, not mine, and this one is no exception. Short, form-fitting, something that shows enough to make other men look and remind him that I’m his.

I take a long shower and take my time getting ready. I do my makeup slowly, pulling my hair back the way he likes, and when I finally step out in the dress, he’s standing in the hallway adjusting his collar, watching me like I’m a product he’s about to show off.

“It looks good,” he says, and when I smile at him, he steps forward and wraps his arms around me, pulling me close in that way that looks affectionate from the outside but always makes me feel just a little trapped.

“It’s good that you finally got it,” I say softly, hoping my tone sounds genuine.

He pulls back just enough to look at me. “Did you doubt I would?”

“No,” I answer quickly, because the truth doesn’t matter when it comes to Mark. “I knew you would. I just thought your boss was dragging it out.”

He grins, clearly satisfied, and kisses my forehead. We leave together, and for a moment, sitting beside him in the back of the taxi, I almost let myself feel normal.

The kind of normal I used to daydream about. A man in a suit beside me, a dress that fits well, a night out with plans that don’t involve scraping coins together.

“Things are going to get better now,” I say, my voice soft with hope.

Mark turns to me, still smiling, but it’s a different kind of smile now, the one that always cuts deeper than it looks. “Well, one of us had to get their sh*t together. If we both worked like you, we’d be on the street. You’re still in that café, aren’t you?”

I feel the words slam into me, sharp and smooth, like he practiced them. My stomach tightens, but I try to keep my expression calm.

“I wanted to apply for something else,” I begin, already knowing it’s useless.

“Don’t put that on me, Harper. You didn’t get anything better because you’re not good enough for anything better. You clean up plates and smile at strangers because that’s what you’re built for. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Not everyone’s meant for more.”

I drop my gaze to my lap and nod, the smile on my lips mechanical now, something I wear like armor instead of feeling.

“Can we not fight tonight?” he asks, his tone lighter again, as if none of what he just said really counts as a fight unless I respond to it.

“Sure,” I say, my voice hollow, but still soft enough to pass as agreeable.

The taxi stops, and we step out into the night. The bar is small but nice, one of those places that tries hard to look effortless. I spot his friends near the back, already waving us over. Lesley’s with them too, lounging like she belongs there, and maybe she does. Mark slides an arm around my waist again and steers me toward them, smiling as if we’re the picture of a happy couple.

And maybe to them, we are.

The moment we reach the table, Mark’s smile stretches wider than it had all night.

“Alright, who wants a drink? I’m paying tonight.”

God, no. They all light up at once, shouting orders over each other without hesitation, and before I can say anything, Mark takes my hand and pulls me with him toward the bar.

“Mark, you shouldn’t pay for everyone else’s drinks,” I whisper, keeping my voice low so only he hears.

He stops, looks at me like I’ve insulted him. “Are you seriously telling me how to spend my money right now?”

I shake my head quickly, already wishing I hadn’t spoken. “No, I just… it doesn’t matter,” I say, softer this time.

“That’s right. It doesn’t matter to you what I do with my money,” he replies as he grabs the tray from the bar and shoves it into my hands. “Make yourself useful and give them their drinks while I wait for mine.”

I nod and take the tray without another word, walking it back to the table and setting it down in front of the others. They don’t even thank me before reaching for their glasses. I take a step back and watch as, over the next three hours, Mark pays again and again, drink after drink, round after round.

No one else reaches for their wallet. He’s covering everything, and I already know how the night is going to end, but I keep my mouth shut because I don’t want this to become another argument.

“You’re throwing away cash like it grows on trees,” Ethan says with a laugh as he lifts another drink Mark bought.

“I got a promotion,” Mark says, shrugging like that explains it.

“Sure, but a promotion’s good for one or two rounds, not the whole night,” Ethan jokes, and they all laugh.

Mark grins and then pulls me against his side like he’s making some kind of statement. “Yeah, well, this one here is paying,” he says.

I blink and stare at him, confused. What?

“She works in a café?” Declan snorts, not even bothering to hide the disbelief in his voice.

Mark just smiles, clearly loving the attention. “Yeah, but she got a one-off job. Four figures, just like that.”

I keep staring, my jaw tight. He gave me a lecture earlier about not telling him how to spend his money, and now he’s spending mine before it even reaches my account.

Ethan looks at me, curious. “What kind of job gets you that kind of money?”

I shrug, not answering, because none of them deserve the truth.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mark says with a grin. “What matters is, it’s paying for tonight.”

They all laugh again and go back to their drinks. I stand there quietly, my expression fixed while my thoughts race.