10. Chapter Ten

I snooze the alarm on my phone, roll over, and go back to sleep. It starts up again, and when I glance at the clock, I know I need to get up or I'm going to be late. Usually, oversleeping isn't something I do, but it's been three days and I'm still exhausted from my night with Enzo and Rafael. I wonder if my energy will ever come back at all.

Each tight muscle and sharp pain remind me of those men, which sends my stomach into a flutter. I ache to touch myself, and even attempted it once, but it wasn't enough. It doesn't help I'm still sore from being used for their pleasure for hours.

I should invest in a sex toy. Maybe that would help. I hear those rose things are good. Maybe I should get one of those.

It's Tuesday morning, bright and early, and I need to get ready for breakfast with my father. We've done this every week since I was a little girl, and I can't miss one because I had too much sex. That's a terrible excuse.

As I head to my attached bathroom to get ready for a shower, nerves roll through me. I haven't seen my father much since Saturday, only in passing. He hasn't made a comment about knowing where I was, but that doesn't mean he won't find out. Enzo promised he wouldn't tell, told me I did such a good job allowing him to use me all night, that he'd keep my secret.

The sad part is, I think I'd have gone along with it even if he hadn't promised to keep it from my father. I had no idea sex could be so good.

When I got home Sunday afternoon, I slept all day since I barely slept a wink the night before. I lost count of how many times Rafael made me come—because Enzo didn't. Not once. He only kept telling Rafael to do it while he watched. He also didn't fuck me again after the first time, which I found both frustrating and sexy. The night was enjoyable regardless, but I definitely wanted more of Enzo. If there is any regret I have about the night, it's not pushing for more of him. Though, I'm not sure what good it would have done. The man was in complete control, and nothing about him made it seem like he was willing to give it up.

He touched me and directed me throughout the night. He had me close my eyes and ride Rafael while pretending it was him. Even with only the short time I was on Enzo's cock, I knew the difference between him and Rafael. Not just their dicks, but the way they touched me.

Rafael held onto me to guide me along, to fuck him and make him feel good. Enzo held me in a possessive way, wanting to show me what to do, to teach me, to watch me. He was doing it for my pleasure. So even though I told Enzo I was imagining him while riding Rafael, there's no way I could.

Once the shower is hot, I get in and quickly wash my body and hair. When I'm done, I moisturize, blow dry and style my hair, and put on makeup. Still wrapped in my towel, I head into my closet to figure out what to wear.

I'm so happy to be back home. Grateful my father didn't turn my room into another office or a spa. When I came back and everything was the same, it made leaving Zach much easier. I hated living by myself, and I think part of me always resented Zach for making a big deal about it. I wasn't willing to admit it then because I was so focused on making it work.

When I found out he was cheating on me, my reaction was to break it off. But I wondered if we could fix things. Not only for us, but for my father. He's been alone ever since my mother died when I was nine, and a son-in-law and grandbabies would give him more family. But the more I thought about it, the more being with Zach didn't feel right. So I made a decision.

My father's negative reaction toward me instantly made me regret it, but after a couple of days, he apologized and explained he was just shocked. I could understand that, so I let it go. After all, I was shocked too. I was angry. Embarrassed. But now? Even though it's only been a few months, I feel better. And I'll admit Saturday helped with that. Knowing there is so much more out there than what Zach has to offer is a relief.

I pull a white sundress from the pink cloth hanger. It's patterned with violet flowers, stylish but tasteful. Even the thought of something tight between my legs has me wincing. I learned the hard way yesterday when I put on jean shorts and cried out in pain. I slip on my sandals, double check my hair is still good in the mirror, and head out.

"Good morning, Miss Jordan," Jeanette, our head house staff, greets once I reach the bottom of the grand staircase. She's been with me since the day I was born and is a mix between a nanny and grandmother. Looks like a mix of both too.

"Morning. Is Father ready?"

"He'll meet you there. Had an early morning meeting beforehand. The driver is already out front." She walks with me to the door, opening it for me.

"See you later," I call out to her as I head down the wide steps and onto the circular driveway. The driver, an older man named Fernando who has been employed by my father since I was a little girl, smiles as he waits by the open back door for me.

"Good morning," Fernando greets with a smile.

"Morning, Fernando."

Once I'm in the back of the limo, he closes the door and I mess with the radio, settling on the newest Miley Cyrus song. The drive to the restaurant takes about twenty minutes, and when we get there, Fernando helps me out.

"Your father is already inside, Miss. Waiting at your usual table."

"Thank you."

"I'll be here for you when you're done."

I smile and head up the few stone steps, passing the cream-colored columns that are covered in bright green vines and white flowers. Harriet's is our favorite place for breakfast, and it's like stepping into a Greek Mythology history book. Columns, waterfalls, statues of the gods and goddesses. No matter how many times I've been here, which is a lot over my lifetime, the beauty of the place never ceases to awe me.

"Good morning, Miss Delise," the hostess says as I pass her. She's new. A few years older than me, if I had to guess. Blond with bright blue eyes. Very pretty. I smile as I pass her to head toward the back where my table is. Father has a standing reservation for every Tuesday morning at eight am sharp.

It's rare I get to spend time with my father, and part of me thinks I moved out too quickly to begin with. Not just the apartment thing because of Zach, but my willingness to leave the nest altogether. I'm still young. What's the rush?

The restaurant is spacious, and I pass tables with small groups of people dressed in casual attire, enjoying breakfast and chatting. Of all the times I've been here, I don't think I've seen a table empty for longer than five minutes. I move up a few marble steps and move around the wide column our table is hidden behind, only to stop dead in my tracks.

My father isn't alone.

We always have breakfast alone on Tuesdays. It's our day. Our father-daughter time.

But today, he has someone with him.

Someone I thought I'd never see again.