Page 50

The house is quiet. Hank is out for his morning run along the cliffs, and Gabe is in the shower. I curl into the warmth they’ve left behind in the tangled sheets, savoring the pleasant ache of last night’s activities.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand—a familiar name lighting up the screen.

Dad .

He calls every day.

Reality crashes back. Three weeks since Kazakhstan. Three weeks since I moved in with Hank and Gabe. Three weeks of working on my thesis and preparing for my defense.

Three weeks of my father’s increasingly concerned messages.

I take a breath and answer. “Hey, Dad.”

“Allycat.” Relief colors his voice, like he wasn’t sure I’d pick up. “How are you doing?”

The concern in his voice is achingly familiar—the same tone he used when I was seven and fell from the apple tree in our backyard. The same concern when I was fifteen and had my first heartbreak. The same love when he wrapped me in his arms after my rescue from Kazakhstan .

“I’m okay.” I sit, pulling the sheet around me as Gabe emerges from the bathroom, a towel slung low on his hips.

The sight of him catches my breath, and I momentarily forget why I’m on the phone.

Gabe’s body is a masterpiece, chiseled to perfection. Water droplets cling to his skin, trickling down the defined muscles of his chest and abs, drawing my gaze like a magnet. Each droplet takes a lazy, tantalizing path downward, following the sculpted lines of his body.

I can’t help but stare, my mouth watering at the sight of him. He’s not just sexy—he’s dangerously seductive, a walking fantasy that shouldn’t be legal. He raises an eyebrow in question, and I mouth “ Dad ” silently, trying to focus on the conversation but failing miserably.

Gabe smirks, clearly aware of the effect he has on me. He moves, prowling towards the bed, his eyes locked onto mine. I swallow hard, trying to maintain my composure as I struggle to focus on my dad’s words.

“Ally?” My father’s voice intrudes on my appreciation of Gabe’s physique.

“Yeah, Dad, I’m still here.” The words rasp from my throat, breathless, barely coherent—choked by the sight of Gabe closing in, every slow, predatory step scattering my thoughts like leaves in the wind.

Gabe leans down, planting a soft kiss on my shoulder. He gently tugs at the sheet that separates us. I bite my lip, stifling a gasp as his touch sends a jolt of electricity through me.

He trails his fingers along my arm, raising goosebumps in their wake. My heart hammers, my body responding to his touch in ways that make it impossible to concentrate on anything but him.

“Are you ready to come home yet?” My father asks the question he’s been circling in every conversation. “When is your thesis defense?”

Gabe sits beside me on the bed, close enough that I can feel his warmth. Despite his teasing, he gives me space for this conversation with my father. I take a deep breath, trying to focus on the call, even as Gabe’s proximity sends my senses into overdrive.

“Dad, I’m not—” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“Allycat, I’m worried about you. It’s been three weeks. Three weeks of… whatever this is.” The accusation in his voice speaks volumes about what he thinks “ this ” might be. “You’re throwing away years of hard work. Your thesis?—”

Frustration and concern sharpen his voice, and guilt twists in my gut. He doesn’t understand, and I’m unsure how to explain it.

“Dad, I’m not throwing away anything.” I keep my voice steady. “I’m just taking a break, trying to figure things out.” Gabe’s hand rests gently on my back, a show of support. His touch grounds me and gives me the strength to face my father’s disapproval. “I just need time.”

“To play house with two men you barely know? To hide from what happened instead of facing it? What do you need to figure out?” Dad scoffs. “You’re not figuring anything out by shacking up with two men. I raised you to be smarter than that. What about your future? Your career?”

I flinch at his words, but Gabe’s hand presses firmer against my back, reminding me I’m not alone.

“Dad, it’s not like that.” I struggle to keep my voice firm. “This isn’t just some… fling . It’s serious. They care about me, and I care about them.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and I can almost see my dad’s face, the disbelief and disappointment etched into his features.

“Ally,” he sighs, his voice softening into that patronizing tone I’ve heard since childhood—the one that says I know better than you do . “I don’t want you to make a mistake you can’t take back. You’ve been through hell, sweetheart, and I know you think this—” he pauses, voice tightening, “ this situation is what you need right now. That these men are helping you. But you don’t see it, do you?”

My grip tightens on the phone, knuckles white. “See what?”

“That you’re running. ”

A sharp exhale on the other end. I picture him pacing his office, rubbing a hand over his face, frustration bleeding into every breath.

“You’ve been lost since everything happened. Since he—” He stops, correcting himself before saying the name. “And now, instead of facing it, instead of healing, you’ve latched onto two men like they can fix you.” His voice drops to a lower register, softer, like he’s trying to coax me back from some imagined edge. “This isn’t love, Allycat. It’s escape . And one day, when you wake up and realize that, it’s going to hurt like hell.”

Heat rises up my spine, a flash of anger choking my throat. Before I can get a word out, Hank’s heavy footsteps echo down the hall, returning from his morning run.

The timing couldn’t be more perfect—or more dangerous.

He appears in the doorway, sweat glistening on bronzed skin, his chest still rising and falling with exertion. His eyes, sharp and assessing, take in the scene in an instant.

Beside me, Gabe straightens slightly. A silent communication passes between them—Hank’s raised eyebrow, Gabe’s subtle head shake.

A warning.

They’re concerned. But they’re letting me handle this.

This is my battle.

I take a breath, steadying myself. “Dad, this isn’t some phase or mistake I’m making because I’m traumatized ,” I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. “I know it’s not conventional?—”

“Conventional?” he interrupts with a humorless laugh. “Ally, you were kidnapped. Twice. By the same organization. These men—” He stops himself, but the implication hangs between us.

These men are taking advantage.

Tears sting at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back. Hank moves silently into the room, his presence solid and reassuring as he perches on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t touch me, respecting my space during this conversation, but his proximity sends a wave of calm through my body.

“Dad, I know you’re worried, but this isn’t a mistake.” My voice chokes with emotion as Gabe’s hand finds mine, fingers intertwining in silent support. “I’m happy. Really happy. And isn’t that what matters most?” My voice drops as I meet Hank’s gaze across the room. “I’m not hiding. I’m healing.”

I don’t say what I want to say, something that will shut my father up for good. I don’t say I’m having an obscene amount of sex. Somedays—most days—I hit double digits in orgasms.

I thought two men would mean double the sex and double the orgasms. Hank and Gabe have shown me that math was wrong.

Gabe leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my shoulder. His thumb traces circles on the back of my hand, a gentle reminder that I’m not alone in this. Hank’s jaw tightens slightly, the only indication of his tension as he listens to my father’s criticism.

“Happy?” Dad asks, his voice dripping with skepticism. “How can you be happy when you’re living like this? It’s not… normal .” My father’s tone shifts, becoming the voice he uses in boardrooms when opponents underestimate him. “You’re on track for a brilliant career in physics. Now you’re what? Their live-in girlfriend?”

Hank’s eyes darken dangerously, but he remains silent. Gabe’s grip on my hand tightens slightly, his thumb pausing its rhythm momentarily before resuming, a physical manifestation of his controlled anger.

I ignore my father’s comment, pushing instead to use reason to get to him.

“It makes sense. When Hank and Gabe go to work, they drop me off. I’m surrounded by the country’s most elite security force, and then they bring me home at the end of the day. I couldn’t be safer than when I’m with them.”

The word home lands between us like a grenade with the pin pulled. My father’s sharp intake of breath tells me he felt the impact just as keenly.

“Is that what you’re calling it? That’s not your home. Whatever you think you have, it’s not going to last. Things that complicated rarely do.”

“You’re wrong.” My fingers curl into fists, nails biting into palms.

“Ally … ”

“Look, we’ve always agreed to be upfront about things. That was your one rule.”

Hank’s arm slides around my waist, not tentative but claiming, marking his territory in the face of my father’s disapproval.

“Remember when I was sixteen, and you caught me sneaking out to that concert? You said you’d rather know where I was than have me lie about it.”

“This is different.”

“No, it’s not.” I straighten my spine, drawing strength from the men flanking me like sentinels. “I need you to hear this, Dad. What I have with Hank and Gabe isn’t temporary or experimental or some post-trauma reaction you can diagnose away. They aren’t going anywhere, and neither am I. This relationship is real. We’re real .”

My voice cracks on the last word, raw with an emotion I hadn’t meant to reveal. “You can either accept that they’re part of my life or judge something you don’t understand. I won’t apologize for finding something that works, even if it’s not what you pictured for me.”

“You never did lie. Not even when the truth made us both uncomfortable.” There’s a hint of wry humor in his voice through the phone, a tone I recognize as the reluctant softening he rarely shows. “I suppose some things never change.” A heavy sigh crackles over the line.

“Dad,” I say, my voice steady but gentle. “I know this isn’t easy for you. I know it’s not what you pictured for me. But this is my life, and I need you to trust that I know what I’m doing.”

There’s a pause, a silence that stretches between us, filled with unspoken words and emotions. Then, finally, he speaks, his voice gruff with emotion.

“You know, a father is never fully comfortable with the man who takes his daughter away. And now I’ve got to deal with two of them.” The disapproval radiates through the connection despite the miles between us. “It’s not an easy ask for me not to hate them on sight, thinking about what they’re…” He trails off, clearly uncomfortable completing th e thought.

I laugh, the sound echoing in the room where Gabe and Hank can hear only my half of the conversation. “Best not to think about it, Dad. Really.”

If he knew the truth—that Hank and Gabe take me together, their bodies moving in perfect synchronization as they claim me from both sides.

If he could see the marks decorating my skin right now, the welts and bruises from Gabe’s flogger that I wear with pride, evidence of his carefully controlled sadistic hunger…

God, he’d send his entire security team to “ rescue ” me in a heartbeat. But he doesn’t need to know that. He definitely doesn’t need to know how eagerly I kneel for them, how completely I surrender to these two incredibly dominant men with the stamina of stallions and the iron-fisted control to push me to my limits without ever truly breaking me.

Some truths are better left unspoken between fathers and daughters.

I catch Hank’s questioning look as he sits beside me, his body still warm from his run, while Gabe’s fingers trace protective patterns against my shoulder.

“But Ally, it’s a fantasy… It’s not normal, two men…”

“Normal?” I cut him off, gripping the phone tighter. “What’s ever been normal about my life? You’re a billionaire with security teams following your every move. I’ve been watched and held under your thumb since before I could crawl, treated like a commodity that might be stolen at any moment. And I was…”

My voice rises despite my efforts to control it, years of resentment bleeding through. “Nothing in my life has ever been normal. Not my childhood, not college with bodyguards lurking in the shadows, not the abduction, and certainly not the aftermath. So why should this be any different?”

Silence hangs between us for several heartbeats, the weight of my words settling across miles of digital connection. Hank’s arm slides around my waist as Gabe moves closer, both men creating a physical barrier against the emotional storm inside me.

I swallow hard, my hand trembling on the phone as both men watch me with concerned expressions. They can’t hear my father’s words, but they recognize the tension in my body at the reference to my abduction.

“I don’t want normal. I’m with them. Yes, it’s unconventional, but it works. They see parts of me no one else does, not even you. Parts I was afraid to show anyone until them.”

The parts they see—the desperate need for them to take control, the hunger for firm hands, and commanding voices. How Hank’s ropes bind more than my body. How they free something in my soul. How Gabe’s intensity mirrors the darkness I’ve always kept buried, his demanding, ruthless control awakening a hunger in me I never dared to name—one that craves the sharp edge of surrender, the exquisite sting of the pain only he can deliver.

“I don’t need to know the details,” Dad says quickly, his voice strained through the connection. I can almost picture him rubbing his forehead the way he does when conversations venture into uncomfortable territory. “Just… are you happy?”

“Happier than I’ve been in a long time.” I lean against Hank, drawing strength from his presence, while Gabe sits on the other side, watching with those intense eyes that see too much. I reach out my free hand, and he takes it immediately, our fingers interlacing. “They take care of me. Protect me. Not because they have to, like your security team, but because they want to.”

A long silence fills the line, broken only by my father’s slow exhale crackling through the speaker.

“Your mother…” he starts, then stops, his voice taking on a quality I rarely hear—vulnerability beneath the CEO veneer. “She always said love doesn’t follow the rules. The last thing she told me was to make sure you knew that.”

My throat tightens. Twelve years since cancer took her, and sometimes the grief still feels fresh enough to steal my breath.

“I remember.”

“She would have understood this—better than me.” His voice roughens, the digital connection unable to mask the emotion. “She would have said, ‘As long as you’re loved, truly loved, the details don’t matter.’”

“I am loved, and I love them,” I whisper, my eyes locking first with Gabe’s, then turning to find Hank’s gaze. Both men go still, hearing the weight of the words. “The way you loved Mom. The kind of love worth fighting for.”

Hank’s arms tighten around me while Gabe’s fingers press into mine, neither of them speaking. But their bodies communicate volumes as they witness this moment—this admission that changes everything between us.

Hank’s playfulness vanishes, his body coiling with protective tension. Gabe abandons all pretense. His eyes find mine with an intensity that makes the rest of the room fade away, narrowing to just the three of us and this fragile, powerful thing we’ve built together.

“Then I suppose that’s all that matters.” My father clears his throat, voice softer now, contemplative. “Your mother would have liked them, you know. She always did have a soft spot for the rebellious ones.”

“Like mother, like daughter.”

In his youth, rebellion defined my father.

He wasn’t born into wealth. He built it.

A self-made man who refused to play by the rules, who tore through obstacles with sheer force of will, and who bet on himself when no one else would. A man who saw what he wanted and took it unapologetically and fearlessly.

People called him reckless. Uncontrolled.

But he turned his defiance into billions.

And my mother—she was the one thing he could never conquer.

The thought hits me suddenly, rattling something loose inside me.

What if I’m more like her than I ever imagined?

A woman drawn to power, to a man who refused to kneel.

Did my mother submit to him in the way I surrender to Gabe and Hank?

The thought curls through me, unsettling.

Exciting .

Because if it’s true—if she craved the same dark intensity that pulls at me now—then maybe this isn’t some inexplicable part of me, some strange compulsion I can’t explain.

Maybe it’s in my blood .

I swallow hard, staring at the phone in my hand, my father’s voice still in my ear.

But suddenly, I don’t know what to say.

His laughter is genuine, if a bit watery. “I just need to know you’re okay.”

“I’m getting there.” I think about Kazakhstan, about powerlessness and strength. About how Hank and Gabe never make me feel anything but strong. “I’m healing.”

With them, I’ve discovered the paradox my father could never comprehend—that my submission isn’t a weakness but the ultimate expression of power.

When I kneel before them, when I surrender my body and will, I’m exercising the most profound control I’ve ever known.

In Kazakhstan, I was deprived of choice. With Hank and Gabe, every surrender is mine to give, every “yes, Sir,” a declaration of my autonomy.

I meet their dominance with an overwhelming force of my own—the power to give myself completely and without reservation. It’s the one place in my life where I exercise complete control, even when I appear to have none at all.

Sometimes, I wonder if Hank and Gabe fully understand this—that when they think they’re conquering me, I’m actually claiming the most authentic form of freedom I’ve ever known.

But if anyone could understand this contradiction, it would be them.

They see me with eyes that look beyond surface appearances, beyond the conventional understanding of power and control. They see the strength it takes to yield, the courage required to trust so completely.

“I’m worried. I don’t want what happened to derail your dreams.”

“Don’t be. I’m safe. I’m happy. And my dreams aren’t derailed. They’re just on hiatus.”

“You’re right. I need to stop thinking of you as my little girl and remember that you’re a grown woman making her own choices. Please tell me you’re safe.” He clears his throat.

“I couldn’t be safer.”

“And the coffee shop?”

“It’s better than good. It keeps me busy while waiting for Dr. Whittman. You do remember that he asked to take time off? I wasn’t the one who asked.”

“I remember.”

“As for The Guardian Grind, I’ve made incredible friends there, and Hank and Gabe are right there if anything happens.”

“I just wish you were here. You’re my little girl, and I… I just feel like I’m losing you.” He trails off, and I know he’s thinking about Kazakhstan and how his security team failed while Hank and Gabe didn’t.

“I’m no longer a little girl, but I’ll always be your daughter. I’m in a good place and right where I want to be. I’m okay,” I say softly. “Really okay. For the first time in a long time.”

“I know.” The commanding edge in his voice gives way to something rawer, more vulnerable. “That’s what makes it so damn hard. I love you more than you can possibly know.”

“I love you, too,” I repeat.

“Just promise me that you won’t give up on your doctorate. That lattes won’t be your future.”

“It’s not, and I won’t. I may even have a job if I want it.”

“As a barista?”

“No, Dad. As a physicist. Though I have to say, I make a mean latte.” I pause as Gabe stifles a laugh beside me. “I’ll finish my degree. I’ll defend that thesis. I’ll get my PhD, and I’ll make you proud. Though fair warning—my dissertation acknowledgments might raise some eyebrows when I thank my ‘research assistants’ for their… hands-on support.”

Silence.

Not just any silence—shocked, choking silence .

I grin, waiting for it.

“Alexandra Collins—” My father finally sputters, voice strangled, “you’re going to give me gray hair.”

“Too late for that, Dad. I’ve seen your medicine cabinet.”

More silence.

Then—a cough. A hesitant, almost wary chuckle.

“Excuse me?”

I stretch out on the bed, feigning innocence. “You heard me.”

I can practically hear him pacing, running a hand through his already silver hair.

“I don’t know what you think you saw, young lady, but?—”

“Oh, I know exactly what I saw, and I know exactly what those little blue pills are for.”

A full coughing fit now.

I grin.

“Christ, Ally.” He mutters something under his breath, something about “this is what I get for raising an unfiltered smartass.”

I hum, far too pleased with myself. “Hey, I don’t judge. I just don’t need details. Ever. Please, for the love of all things holy.”

More muttering. This time, I catch something about “mouthy daughters and early retirement.”

“I mean,” I press on because, at this point, I might as well go all in, “I just assumed it was some lovely widow from your charity circles or, I don’t know, one of those terrifying power women you do business with. But if you tell me you’re some masked Dom at a BDSM club, I will walk into traffic.”

“Alexandra.” His voice is sharp, scandalized.

I laugh, giddy with victory.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” A beat. “But seriously, hydrate, Dad. Those things can be dangerous at your age.”

He groans. “You’re impossible.”

“You love me.”

“God help me, I do.”

His sigh is long-suffering, but I hear the warmth underneath.

And just like that, the conversation shifts, settling into something familiar—love wrapped in exasperation, the kind only a father and daughter can manage.

“Ally, I need to ask one more time—are you absolutely certain about these men?” The raw paternal concern in his voice is unmistakable. “I’ve spent your entire life protecting you. I can’t help but worry they’re… taking advantage somehow. Two men with one woman, it’s… Are you sure this is what you want? That they’re not just using you?”

Hank tenses beside me, his jaw clenching at my father’s implication. Gabe’s fingers tighten around mine, but his eyes remain steady, encouraging me to answer honestly.

“Dad, listen to me carefully. They don’t use me—they cherish me. Yes, I’m absolutely certain.” I soften my voice, trying to ease his fears. “I know it’s hard for you to understand, but they’re not taking advantage. If anything, they’ve given me back pieces of myself I thought were lost forever.”

“I do love you, you impossible girl.”

“I love you, too. Even when you’re being overprotective and judgmental.”

After ending the call, I sit motionless between Hank and Gabe, the phone clutched in my hand like a lifeline.

“Well,” Gabe says, his voice deliberately light, “that went better than expected. I was anticipating threats of disinheritance for you and castration for us.”

Laughter bubbles up unexpectedly from my throat, slightly hysterical but genuine. Hank’s arm slides around my shoulders, pulling me against his solid chest.

And just like that, my father’s disapproval fades into background noise, insignificant against the reality of being here, held between these two men who have somehow become my entire world.

I turn to Gabe, tears shimmering in my eyes. Hank releases me as Gabe pulls me into his arms, holding me close, his touch tender and loving.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth. “You stood up for us. That takes courage. ”

“Your dad loves you,” Hank says, unusually serious. “We’ll show him that we’re worthy of your love.”

Gabe chuckles, breaking the tension as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “If I had a daughter, I’d hunt down any man who looked at her sideways.” His eyes darken, his voice dipping into something possessive. “Can’t imagine what I’d do to someone who dared touch her.”

Hank snorts. “Let alone fuck her.”

“Or tie her up,” Gabe adds casually, glancing my way with a wicked grin.

“Swatted her ass.”

“Used a crop,” Gabe murmurs, eyes gleaming. “Break her down until she’s coming from pain.”

“Then fuck her again,” Hank finishes, deadpan. “Together.”

“Oh, and don’t forget the blowies ,” Gabe grins.

“Oh my God, stop.” I groan, burying my face in my hands. “Don’t bring blowies back.”

“ Blowies are here to stay, luv.” Hank chuckles, arm draping over my shoulder as he pulls me close. “Your father’s holding it together better than I would.”

Gabe nods, laughing. “Man deserves a medal.”

“He’s trying,” I say. “Though I notice he’s stopped asking about the sleeping arrangements.”

“Smart man.” Gabe’s smile is soft and genuine, making my heart skip. “Knows when not to ask questions he doesn’t want answered. Come here.”

I let myself be folded into his arms.

Hank places a hand on my back. They hold me until the ache of change, of growing up and letting go, begins to ease.

The rest of the day unfolds in a comfortable rhythm we’ve perfected over the past week. Hank makes breakfast—his omelets are criminal—while I finish my coffee and Gabe does the crossword. It’s domestic in a way that should feel strange but doesn’t.