Dirty Daddies Underground

Chapter Fourteen

Nathan's POV

The cup is set down in front of me, the steam curling into the air, but I keep my attention fixed on the documents spread across the table. We’re trying to sort out something long overdue, something important, making sure people can leave this place safely. Finding a firm we trust has proven harder than expected.

“How about we just start our own?” Theo leans back in his chair, arms behind his head like he’s tossing out an idea about lunch, not logistics.

I raise my head and meet his eyes. “How is that even remotely like any of our other businesses?”

Because it’s not. We own b**m clubs, boutique s*x shops, even a couple of adult-focused dating platforms. We don’t do transport. That’s not us.

“I agree with Theo… but also don’t,” Mason says, his tone caught somewhere between amusement and consideration. “Don’t create an entire firm, just hire a few drivers. A handful of vehicles owned by us, employed by us. That way guests can get here or home using people who know what we’re about.”

I sigh and lean back in the chair. “So basically, like the hotel service.”

“Yes,” Mason says with a smirk. “Which, by the way, connects to a car service. Just saying. You claimed none of our businesses were remotely similar.”

Groaning softly, I rub my face. “Fine. I forgot about the hotel we own. We barely touch that side of things anymore. Alright, we’ll start looking at hiring drivers who understand discretion and know the lifestyle.”

From across the table, Theo’s got that grin on his face, the one that usually means trouble’s on the horizon.

“What did you do?”

Mason and I ask it at the same time.

“Nothing. She sent a photo in the Hellraiser set, and now I can’t stop thinking about bending her over in it.”

I groan and reach for my phone, already knowing I won’t be able to concentrate on another damn thing until I see it. The moment I open the app and click the message, I feel my focus dissolve. There goes the rest of my productivity for the day.

She’s stunning. The photo hits like a punch to the chest, brown curls falling over her bare shoulders, eyes bright, body soft and curving in ways that make me want to grip her hips and pull her in close. That lingerie clings to her like it was made just for her, straps and lace drawing the eye to all the right places.

Shifting in my seat, I try to discreetly adjust myself and lock the screen. I need to focus, but there’s no way that image isn’t burned into the back of my brain now.

“Is she at our place?” Mason’s grin stretches as he checks his phone.

“She is,” Theo replies, looking far too pleased with himself. “That’s our custom set she’s got on.”

Mason doesn’t miss a beat. He taps something on his phone and places it on the table, speaker on.

“Mr. Elson,” comes a woman’s voice.

“Hi, Cathy,” Mason says smoothly. “Someone just came in asking for the Hellraiser, right?”

“That’s correct, yes.”

“Wrap one up in her size and give it to her. She doesn’t pay.”

Theo lets out a low chuckle.

“I’ll do that, Mr. Elson.”

“No, you won’t,” I cut in, leaning forward. “Cathy.”

“Oh! Hello, Mr. Williamson, I didn’t know you were present.”

“So am I,” Theo chimes in, grinning like it’s Christmas morning.

“Mr. Lewis… have I done something wrong for all three of you to be involved?”

I laugh and shake my head, even though she can’t see it. “No, Cathy. But the woman who asked for the Hellraiser, did you see what else she picked out?”

“I did, yes.”

“Good. I want you to bag up everything she brought into the changing room in her size and tell her it’s all a gift. She’ll know who it’s from. She doesn’t pay a single penny.”

There’s a pause on the line. “Mr. Williamson, she took in around thirteen items.”

“I don’t care if she goes back out and finds ten more. If she tries it on, you pack it up and gift it.”

Theo looks like he’s about to add something, but I lift a hand to silence him.

“Understood, Mr. Williamson. I’ll take care of it now.”

“Thank you, Cathy.” I hit the button and end the call.

“She’s putting real thought into this,” Theo says, still smiling.

“A lot of thought,” Mason adds. “Thirteen outfits worth.”

I nod and glance back at the paperwork in front of me. “And for the record, no one is checking the receipt email later. I don’t want either of you knowing what she actually picked.”

Mason snorts. “She said she’s going to send more pictures, remember? You think that’s going to help us forget?”

Groaning, I drop my head back. “Yes, but she might not send the one she ends up wearing. So leave the receipt alone. Now, can we get back to work and figure out this damn car service?”

I glance up, only to see both of them staring at Theo’s phone like it’s the holy grail.

“Seriously?” I groan again. “You two can’t go five minutes without getting distracted.”

They are still staring like they’ve been hypnotised, Theo’s hand gripping his phone, Mason leaning in as if it holds something sacred between them. I don’t even have to ask. I can feel it in the shift of their silence, in the way neither of them is breathing properly.

With a resigned groan, I reach for my own phone, unlocking it with a swipe and pulling up the app.

The message is there, waiting, glowing softly on the screen.

BruisedLace: Thought you might want another one. Let me know if this is too much.

The photo loads and I stop breathing.

She's standing in front of a full-length mirror this time, the phone raised just enough to keep her face slightly hidden, but not enough to hide the flush on her chest. The set she’s wearing is wine-red with black lace edging, the bra soft and sheer with an intricate pattern that dances over her skin. Straps cut across her midriff like whispers of possession, delicate but commanding, connecting to a matching garter belt that hugs her hips perfectly. The panties are barely there, a deep V of lace with small satin bows on the sides.

My fingers tighten around the phone as I feel heat rush through me, low and slow. She’s a vision, not just because of the lingerie, but because of the confidence in her stance. There’s something about the way she holds herself that tells me she’s starting to believe she can be wanted like this. That she can claim this.

I swallow hard and glance across the table.

Mason’s voice is quiet, nearly a whisper. “She’s going to kill us.”

Theo smirks but his voice is equally low. “What a way to die.”

I shake my head slowly, trying to keep my thoughts in order, but they’re a mess. This was supposed to be a work meeting. We were meant to be discussing security, logistics, guest safety. Now I’m sitting here trying not to let my arousal show while she’s somewhere in a changing room, slipping into one set after another, sending us photos that make it harder to think straight with every passing minute.

“Someone reply to her,” I mutter, because I know I can’t. Not yet. Not without sending her something I’ll regret.

“I got it,” Mason says, his thumbs already moving over the screen.

I lean back and close my eyes for a moment, letting the image burn itself into my mind. Every inch of her, every strap, every inch of skin she chose to reveal. She’s doing this with intention. With care. She’s not rushing or being reckless. She’s giving us something raw, honest, and undeniably seductive.

And the worst part? We’ve barely scratched the surface of what she’s capable of.

I swipe back into the chat, needing to see what Mason sent, even if it’s just one line of flirtation. My eyes skim down to the newest message, the one just below her photo.

The_Triumvirate: That’s not too much, baby girl. It’s just enough to make us imagine everything we’ll be undoing later. Keep going.

Of course he’d say that. Smooth and careful, but with just enough edge to stir her deeper.

I’m halfway through rereading it when a new notification flashes at the top of the screen. Another photo from her. Another message.

I open it before I can stop myself.