Make Me Moan, Daddy Chapter 32

REINA

The car ride was too quiet.

The hum of the engine filled the space between us, steady and low, but it didn’t hide the silence that sat heavy in the air. I could hear my own heartbeat, fast and uneven, like it wanted to escape. Calestino kept his eyes on the road, hands steady on the steering wheel, face calm... too calm. I didn’t know what to say to him. I didn’t even know what he was thinking.

Every few seconds, I found myself glancing at him, expecting him to speak, to scold , to ask why I’d done what I did. But he didn’t. He just drove, eyes forward, jaw tight.

The silence was suffocating.

I turned to the window, watching the blur of trees and streets, and tried to swallow the lump sitting in my throat. Sha burned at the back of my neck. Every ti I blinked, I saw Donico—his eyes, his hands, his voice. The things we did. The things I let him do.

I pressed my palms together on my lap, fighting the urge to cry. I wanted to cry because I was starting to enjoy every bit of it, in a way I didn’t want to stop.

Then, just when I thought I couldn’t take another minute of silence, Calestino spoke.

Or rather, he didn’t—he just reached into his jacket, pulled out his phone, and handed it to .

I blinked. "What’s this?"

He nodded toward the screen. "My daughter," he said quietly.

I looked down.

On the screen was a picture of a little girl, no more than two. Big brown eyes, a dimpled smile, her hair tied into two tiny puffs. She was sitting on a kitchen counter, holding a wooden spoon like it was a toy.

"She’s beautiful," I whispered.

He smiled for the first ti that morning. "Yeah, she really is beautiful. She’s staying with my mother for now. Her na is Lotus. She’s nad after my mother’s favorite flower in her garden."

There was sothing soft in his voice when he spoke about her, sothing I hadn’t heard before. For a mont, the heaviness between us eased. I smiled a little too, staring at the picture. This would be the first ti Calestino would tell anything about his personal life.

"She looks just like you." I smiled; the little being on the screen was just too cute I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

He chuckled under his breath. "You think so? My mom says she’s worse than . Twice the attitude."

I laughed, a small, broken sound, but it helped. The tension eased just enough for to breathe again.

He seed relieved too—like he’d been waiting for sothing to fill the silence. "She wakes up at five every morning," he went on, shaking his head. "Drags her blanket around the house and bangs on my mother’s door for pancakes."

"Five?" I gasped, half teasing. "You an she doesn’t let anyone sleep?"

"She’s the boss," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "The world just follows her rules. If she doesn’t get to stir the batter, she’ll cry until she gets her way."

I couldn’t help but grin. "Sounds like she knows what she wants."

"Yeah," he said softly. "Just like her mother."

The way he said it—quietly, almost to himself—made look up. There was a flash of sothing raw in his eyes before he blinked it away. For a second, I thought of how lonely he must be sotis. The job. The secrecy. The kind of life that didn’t let you have too much softness.

"Do you miss her?" I asked. "Your daughter, I an." I had to ask because Calestino was just too busy with this family and work that I doubt he sees his daughter enough to his heart’s content.

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel, knuckles flexing. "Every second I’m not with her."

I didn’t know what to say to that. I just nodded, my chest tightening for reasons I couldn’t explain. Maybe because it was the first ti I saw the human side of him—the man behind the suit, the gun, the loyalty to Donico and the whole family.

"She’s lucky," I said quietly. "To have you."

He gave a faint smile. "I’m lucky to have her."

For a few minutes, we drove like that—just talking about Lotus. He told about the ti she sared lipstick all over his shoes, about how she refused to eat anything unless it was cut into stars, about how his mother said she was too stubborn to be anyone’s child but his. He showed another photo of her asleep on his chest, one small hand clutching his shirt. The sight made my heart ache in the best and worst way.

Because beneath it all, I envied that purity, sothing untouched, sothing that still believed in love that didn’t co with guilt or blood or secrets.

Then, after a pause, his tone shifted.

He cleared his throat, his fingers tightening again on the wheel. "Reina," he said, quietly now. "Can I tell you sothing?"

My stomach dropped. I already knew where this whole conversation was heading. "What is it?"

He took a slow breath. "You need to stop seeing Donico."

The words hit harder than I expected. My throat went dry. "I—"

"I’m not saying this because I want to ddle in your affair," he cut in gently. "I promised him I wouldn’t say anything to Paolo. And I haven’t. But Reina..." He turned his head slightly, eyes catching mine for just a second before going back to the road. "If Paolo ever finds out, it won’t end well. For anyone."

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. The guilt I’d been holding back ca rushing up, thick and heavy. I felt it in my chest, in the way my fingers shook against my pants.

Calestino’s voice softened again. "You’re not a bad person and I have nothing against you. But what’s happening, it’s dangerous. He’s not like Paolo. Donico doesn’t stop once he starts. You’ll get hurt, and I don’t want to see that happen."

His words stayed with , sinking deeper than I wanted them to. There was no judgnt in his tone—just honesty. A quiet kind of concern that only made it worse.

I forced a bitter laugh. "You think I don’t know that?"

"I think you do," he said quietly. "But you’re still doing it."

I turned away, staring out the window again. The passing city blurred into shapes and colors that didn’t make sense. "It’s not that simple," I muttered.

"It never is," he replied. "But at so point, you’ll have to choose what hurts less."

I closed my eyes. "You don’t understand."

He nodded slightly. "You’re right. I don’t. But I’ve seen what happens when people fall into Donico’s gravity. He burns through everything, people, promises, himself. And he doesn’t an to, but he does. Because he can’t help it."

I swallowed, hard. "He’s not like that with ."

Calestino didn’t argue. He just looked at , briefly, with that kind of pity that’s worse than anger. The kind that says you’ll see for yourself.

We drove in silence again after that. I stared at my hands, forcing myself to breathe evenly.

By the ti we reached the university gate, the world felt heavier. The campus stretched out before , familiar and distant all at once. Students were walking across the sidewalks, laughing, talking, alive, and there I was, sitting in the back seat of a black car with guilt clawing through my ribs.

Calestino parked, switched off the engine, and reached into the glove compartnt. When he turned back to , he was holding an envelope and a small keychain.

"Paolo asked to give you this," he said.

I frowned. "Paolo?"

He nodded. "He had these ready yesterday. Actually, I was supposed to deliver this when I..." he waved his hand and grimaced. "You know what I’m talking about."

Before you saw my father-in-law eating my cunt so gently like a dessert. I said in my mind, swallowing down thickly.

I took them slowly. The envelope was thick, sealed, and on the front, written in Paolo’s neat handwriting were the words: To my queen.

My throat closed up.

I opened it carefully. Inside was a handwritten letter, simple, beautiful, in the way only Paolo’s words could be.