“I am going to make you sit there squirming while every man in that place watches you, and you are going to smile for me like a good girl while I decide whether I am going to take you to an hotel to fuck you in private or bend you over the table right there and let the whole city hear you scream for Daddy.”‘”
“Connor,” I gasped because I could not breathe, could not think, could not even remember my own name anymore.
He smiled slowly, darkly, like he was already picturing it. “Go put on the dress, pumpkin,” he said softly. “Or I will put it on you myself. And if I have to do it, you are not walking into Spain. I will carry you in dripping with my come while every man in that restaurant stares at you and knows exactly what I did.”
I opened my mouth to argue again because apparently I enjoy being humiliated in international waters, but before I could even get a single word out, I heard the sound of high heels clattering down the deck like someone had set a fashion model loose on a racetrack.
“Lily!”
The scream nearly burst my eardrum.
I turned just in time to see Bella flying toward me like a sugar-high tornado in six-inch heels, her beach curls bouncing everywhere while she waved her phone around like she was breaking celebrity news.
“My bestie!” she screamed again, grabbing me in a hug so aggressive I almost fell over. “Where the fuck have you been? Oh my God, oh my God, you disappeared for hours! I called you like fifty times! Were you dead? Were you kidnapped? Were you murdered? Wait, hi Dad!” She beamed at Connor like this was the most normal reunion in the world.
I was still wheezing into her shoulder when she grabbed my hand and spun me around like we were auditioning for some reality show called Best Friends Lose Their Minds in Europe.
“Fuck, we are in Spain!” she yelled, loud enough for the entire dock to turn and stare. “I am so excited! I have been waiting for this moment my whole life! Actual Spain! With Spanish food and Spanish men and Spanish music and oh my God I am going to cry!”
I tried to speak but she was already pulling me toward the dock like a human hurricane. “Bella, calm down, oh my God, people are staring..”
“Let them stare!” she shouted like a battle cry. “We are about to take over Spain, bestie!”
“Do you know what me and my man planned?” she whispered, eyes sparkling like she was about to confess the plot to a very illegal movie. “A threesome. With Spanish girls. And Spanish guys. Like the full experience, bestie. We are in Spain. It is cultural. I am expanding my horizons.”
I stopped so fast Bella nearly tripped over her own shoes. My eyes nearly fell out of my head.” Bella,” I hissed back, grabbing her arm before she could say it any louder.
“You need Christ in your life. Get out. Right now. I am not doing this with you in front of your father. We are in Spain for five minutes and you are already planning orgies like you are collecting stamps.
**Lily**
Bella just flipped her curls over her shoulder like she was auditioning for a shampoo commercial and not casually confessing to sex crimes in front of her father.
“Bitch! Stop acting like a fucking saint” Bella started, all breezy and dramatic, like we were two girls sipping iced lattes and not standing on a yacht with her father listening to every single syllable.
“Do you know sex tourism is literally a thing. I saw a whole documentary about it. So if I happen to meet a few Spanish men while we are here, it will be cultural. Like studying abroad. For the soul.”
I almost swallowed my own tongue. “Studying abroad?” I hissed because my dignity was trying to jump off this boat and swim back to America.
“Bella. Shut the fuck up!”
She just grinned wider, like the concept of shame did not exist in her vocabulary. “You are jealous,” she sang, twirling her phone around her fingers while my soul withered right next to her.
“I have plans. Big plans. Me, my man, some Spanish girls, maybe a guy with a really hot accent who will tell me I am beautiful in Spanish while feeding me grapes or whatever they do here. It is going to be so romantic.”
I nearly choked on my own spit. “Romantic?” I squeaked, pointing at her with both hands because one was not enough to hold all this judgment.
“Bella, you cannot say romantic and threesome in the same breath. Your dad is here! Are you insane? Actually insane? Oh my God, I feel like I need a priest. A real one. With holy water and maybe a Bible big enough to hit you with.”
She waved me off like my moral crisis was a mosquito buzzing in her ear. “Daddy does not care,” she said casually, like that was supposed to be comforting instead of soul-crushing. “He is so chill.
Look at him. He is barely even listening to us.”
And because I have no survival instincts, I looked.
I turned my head and there he was.
Connor.
Leaning against the railing like the devil himself had booked a Mediterranean cruise. Hands in his pockets. Face carved out of stone. Watching me.
Not Bella.
Me.
“See?” Bella chirped, completely oblivious while my soul tried to exit my body. “He looks so relaxed. He is probably thinking about some beautiful mystery woman while I plan my cultural awakening. Like father, like daughter.”
My entire brain short-circuited so hard I almost blacked out.
“Yes,” I said weakly, my voice cracking like I was lying under oath. “So romantic. Definitely thinking about… women. Romance. Normal things. Not murder. Not crime. Not public humiliation. Just… you know. Fatherly thoughts. Totally fine.”
Bella was already scrolling through her phone again, mumbling about Spanish nightclubs while my entire dignity burned alive around me. Meanwhile Connor had not moved once. Not even a twitch.
But his eyes…
His eyes stayed on me like Spain already belonged to him. Like I belonged to him.
And my knees? Oh, they were shaking.
Full-on trembling because my whole body had officially given up on pretending I was not two seconds from disaster.
Bella finally shoved her phone into her purse like she had solved world peace and was now free to move on with her life. She smacked me on the arm like we were about to run a relay race instead of survive this yacht of doom.
“Okay, bestie,” she said brightly, already flipping her hair like she was in a commercial again, “catch you later.
And if things go how I want tonight, we are making a video.”
A video.
She actually leaned in close like this was some top-secret national security briefing instead of her announcing illegal activities in front of her father.
“A whole video,” she hissed right in my ear, eyes sparkling like she was about to win an award for this. “Full production. And if you want…” She smirked, like the evil witch she is. “I will send it to you.”
I froze. My brain actually quit. It just clocked out and left my body standing there like an unpaid intern because what did she just say?
“Go to hell, bitch!” I yelled so loud half the dock turned to stare. I did not even care. “Straight to hell! Express route! No return trip! Go! Immediately!”
Bella only laughed. Laughed. Like a whole villain getting the last word in a movie. She threw me a wink like she had not just detonated my entire existence in front of her father and then started strutting off the deck toward Spain like she was auditioning for Fast and Furious: International Hotel Edition.
“Love you too!” she sang over her shoulder like she was not the devil in designer sunglasses.
And that was when it hit me.
She was gone.
Bella was gone.
And Connor… was still here.
Standing there. Watching.
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