Dinner with Daddy

Dinner with Daddy SIGGY SHADE Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Epilogue About the Author Also by Siggy Shade Copyright © 2023 by Siggy Shade All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Content Warnings This book contains graphic sexual content and elements that may be triggering to readers. Please review the list of content warnings to make sure you’re comfortable with reading this book before you continue: Age gap Assassination Breeding kink Cheating Death threats Domestic violence (threat) Narcissism Pregnancy Chapter One I didn’t know Connor was a two-timing asshole until the evidence slapped me in the face. Our relationship isn’t perfect—he works too hard and I have two jobs, but he has never shown any interest in other women. It was his idea for us to save for marriage and a baby. Right now, all I can do is grab his door frame and scream. It’s a high-pitched guttural howl as the knife of betrayal slices through my heart. Connor is the first to rise from beneath the white sheets, his blond hair tousled, his lips swollen and red. I can already tell from how the silk puddles around his hips that he’s naked. The redhead beside him rolls to the end of the mattress, lands in a crouch, and dives beneath the bed. She emerges seconds later, still naked but now holding a revolver. My stomach plummets to the marble floor. I stagger back, my heart leaping to my throat. “Fuck!” It’s Lyra, Connor’s stepmother. More importantly, she’s advancing toward me with the gun. The older woman’s eyes are crazed, her irises a tiny ring of gray around blown pupils. Adrenaline kicks me up the ass, shifting me from fight to flight. My palms rise to the ceiling, and I blurt, “Don’t shoot!” I should have taken on that extra shift at the hospital. Should have stopped at the cafeteria for fish and chips. How has wanting to surprise my boyfriend deteriorated to being held at gunpoint by his stepmother? “Please,” I rasp and back toward into the hallway. “Put down the gun.” She hisses through her teeth, looking more murderous than Medusa with her mane of red curls. “Lyra, don’t,” Connor says from the bed. “We could dispose of her real quick,” Lyra says. “That way, she won’t tell your father.” “No, no, no, no,” I say. “I won’t say a word.” Connor launches himself on the older woman and tackles her to the floor. I pivot, not bothering to watch the scuffle, and sprint down the hallway. For once in our eighteen-month relationship, I wish Connor lived in a tiny apartment with fire exits and not in his father’s oversized mansion. My Crocs squeak on the marble floor as I reach the grand staircase of iron railings. I regret my choice of footwear because right now, I need running shoes. Lyra could break free of Connor at any moment and shoot me in the back. I always knew there was something off about that woman. She married Connor’s dad, knowing he was one of the most powerful players within the Irish mob. Men like that don’t marry just anyone. The blast of a gunshot has me stumbling down the stairs like hell just opened up and its hounds are snapping at my feet. Connor bellows, making the fine hairs on the back of my head stand on end. Terror quickens my steps. Did he just get shot? Do I even give a shit? Maybe—but he’s the only thing standing between his murderous stepmother and certain death. “Brianna,” Connor yells. I reach the bottom of the stairs, stumble to my feet, and sprint across the downstairs hallway. Blood roars between my ears and sweat stings my eyes. I shove aside my mounting panic and fumble for my car keys. My fingers close around the cold metal, and I reach for the door handle. Nearly there. A heavy body slams into my shoulder, pushing me into the wood with a shuddering thud. Shockwave of pain explode down one side of my body, and all the breath leaves my lungs in a scream. Connor grabs me by the shoulders, spins me around, and shoves me back against the door. The base of my head hits the oak surface, filling my vision with stars. He glares down at me, his eyes arctic. “Where do you think you’re going?” The force of his cold rage freezes me to the spot. I’m trapped in his icy stare. My lips part and I’m about to speak but a set of footsteps echo across the hallway. Lyra descends the stairs, wearing an ivory silk kimono with sleeves that barely conceal her gun. Cold dread plunges my stomach to the marble floor. Part of me hoped that she got shot, but I’ve run out of luck. I’m so dead. “Let me go,” I stutter. “Not until you listen to what I have to say,” he growls. Tears prick the backs of my eyes. I’m not delusional or weak, but this situation is so fucked. It should be me who’s furious—not him. Frustration and rage mingle with my terror, making me swallow back a surge of nausea. I’ve faced down loan sharks, debt collectors, and all manner of bailiffs. Some came with court orders, others just got vicious. But they were all doing their jobs. This is the first time anyone has betrayed me and then followed up with gunshots and violence. “Connor,” I whisper, my voice breathy. “Tell Lyra not to shoot. I won’t say a word to your