Make Me Moan, Daddy Chapter 61

REINA

I kept thinking about what Tessa had said earlier, and I still didn’t want to believe there was even a small chance Paolo might be gay.

He hadn’t touched the way a husband should... God, I knew that. But that didn’t an he was gay.

Maybe he was just... Paolo. Cold. Reserved. The type who saw intimacy as a distraction.

We’d gone on dates, charity dinners, even a few business auctions together. He’d never once flirted with anyone, man or woman. His attention was always fixed on deals, stock reports, or whatever ssage pinged on his phone.

So, no. I refused to believe it.

Tessa was being Tessa... dramatic, caring, and probably a little overprotective.

"Shit, I don’t know what to think anymore. This whole gay shit is stupid. Paolo can’t be gay." I muttered under my breath, biting my lower lip as I stared at the satin top in my hands.

"Girl, see this."

Tessa popped up behind , grinning so wide I could practically hear it. She held up a glittering black dress that looked about two sizes too small and ten shades too sinful.

"You’re not serious," I said.

"Oh, I’m deadly serious," she said, clutching it to her chest. "If we’re going clubbing tonight, you’re not walking in looking like soone’s accountant. You’re my hot ss of a best friend and you’re going to look like it."

I rolled my eyes but smiled. "You do realize I haven’t gone clubbing like that since... ever? Except my hangout with you and the guys yesterday?"

"Exactly my point." She thrust the dress at . "Tonight’s about rediscovering your inner slut."

I laughed. "Tessa! I thought I told you that I’m married?"

She grinned, shaless. "Relax, I an it in the spiritual sense."

We were in this little boutique tucked into the high end of the mall—marble floors, gold racks, soft jazz humming through the speakers. The kind of place where the air slled like perfu and money.

Tessa had dragged here right after our last class, saying I needed "therapeutic retail" before our night out.

She was already in her elent, bouncing from rack to rack like a kid in a candy store. "This one screams ’I’m hot but emotionally unavailable,’" she said, holding up a sequinned mini. "Which, honestly, fits you right now."

I sighed, shaking my head. "You’re impossible."

"Impossibly right," she said, winking.

I wandered toward another rack, fingers brushing through silky fabrics. For the first ti in days, my mind felt lighter. Not empty... just lighter.

There was a mirror nearby, tall and cruelly honest. I caught my reflection in it and hesitated. My hair was a little ssy, makeup barely there, eyes faintly tired. I didn’t look like soone who had just committed a sin the night before—or that morning. I just looked... ordinary.

And maybe that’s what scared most.

"You’re overthinking again," Tessa’s voice sang behind .

I turned. "How do you know?"

"Because you get this sad librarian face whenever you do."

I smiled faintly. "I was just thinking about what you said earlier."

She sighed dramatically, tugging a red dress off a hanger. "Oh no. You’re still on that? Girl, I told you... either your husband’s secretly gay or he’s made of stone. Either way, you deserve better."

I winced. "He’s not gay, Tess."

"Uh-huh. And I’m not addicted to iced coffee."

I groaned. "Just drop it."

"Fine, fine," she said, hands raised. "We’ll focus on sothing less tragic—like which of these dresses will make you forget your husband’s na tonight. And maybe forget about his dear daddy too."

I laughed in spite of myself. "You’re insane."

"Thank you."

She pulled toward the dressing rooms. "Co on. Try this one on before I lose patience."

The dress she handed was champagne-colored, soft satin that looked like liquid under the light. I sighed, taking it from her and stepping into the booth.

Inside, I slipped out of my clothes and into the dress. The fabric hugged in all the right places, smooth and cool, the slit running dangerously high up my thigh. When I turned to the mirror, I barely recognized myself.

"Alright, show !" Tessa called.

I hesitated. "It’s... a bit much."

"All the better."

I opened the curtain, and her jaw dropped. "Holy hell, Reina. You look like sin wrapped in silk."

Heat crept up my cheeks. "You think so?"

"Think so? Girl, if you don’t buy that dress, I will. And I don’t even fit in it."

I laughed, spinning once. For a fleeting mont, I felt beautiful. Powerful, even. And maybe a little slutty which I had been feeling like for days now.

Tessa snapped a few pictures. "Okay, this one’s it. Now shoes, clutch, and we’re golden."

We spent another hour trying on things, laughing, gossiping, teasing each other like we were back in high school. She told about so guy in her major who’d been begging her to move in with him; I told her about the awkward dinner I had with Paolo’s Aunt the first ti Paolo introduced to her.

By the ti we were done, our arms were heavy with shopping bags.

As we waited by the register, I caught soone staring. A man—mid-thirties maybe—standing near the perfu section. Expensive suit, slick hair, the kind of smirk that crawled under your skin. His eyes were fixed on , bold and unashad.

I turned away, pretending to adjust my bag.

"Who’s that?" Tessa whispered, following my gaze.

"I don’t know him," I murmured under my breath, not wanting to make a scene.

"Well, he’s undressing you with his eyes," she said flatly. "Creep."

I forced a smile. "Ignore him."

"Gladly," she said, rolling her eyes. "n think one coat of cologne makes them irresistible."