Make Me Moan, Daddy-Chapter 89

REINA

Calestino leaving like that didn’t sit right with me.

He didn’t even try to hide it. One second he was squared up, ready to put Andrew in the ground or pull a gun from nowhere, and the next second he went stiff. Not alert. Not aggressive. Tense in a way that felt... controlled. Like someone had just walked into the room who outranked him.

Philip.

Calestino’s eyes had flicked to him, sharp and fast, then back to me. His jaw tightened. His hand loosened from my arm, but only slightly, like he didn’t want to let go yet but was forced to. Then he told me he had to leave. Said it like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t just been ready to ruin a man’s life for touching me.

I’d asked him if he knew Philip.

He’d said no too quickly.

"I’ll see you later," he’d added, low and firm, like it was an order instead of a promise. Then he walked away without looking back.

That wasn’t Calestino.

I stood there for a moment after he disappeared, the space beside me feeling wrong without him. Somehow, the possibility of what made him to rushed off like that worried me more than the empty threats Andrew had made before he left.

His threats didn’t matter. In fact, nothing about Andrew matter right now.

Philip was still there.

A few feet away from me. Watching me. I knew he was.

Even though he wasn’t staring openly, but I could feel it. That quiet attention that made my skin prickle. He stepped closer when he saw me hesitate, his expression neutral, calm, like nothing dramatic had just happened.

Something so unordinary.

"You alright?" he asked.

I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure it was true. "Yeah."

My eyes stayed on his face longer than necessary. He looked... normal. Too normal. Clean-cut. Tall. Neat. The kind of man people trusted without thinking twice. And yet something about him pulled at the back of my mind.

Curious? Maybe.

"Do you know him?" I asked.

Philip turned his head slightly, like he was just now noticing me. His expression stayed neutral. Calm. Almost mild.

"Know who?" he asked.

"The man who just left," I said, nudging my head in the direction Calestino had ran off to, even though I knew he knows who I was talking about and was only pretending. "Calestino."

He shrugged. A small, easy movement. "No. I just heard both men call you Reina. Is that your name?"

There it was.

Not an answer. A pivot.

I studied his face, searching for cracks. His eyes didn’t dart. His posture didn’t shift. He looked like someone who was very good at choosing what not to say.

"Yes," I said, matching his casual tone. "That’s my name."

His gaze lingered on me for half a second longer than necessary. Then it drifted past me, to the space Calestino had disappeared into.

"He works for your husband?" Philip asked.

The question hit harder than I expected. He must have picked on that when I was telling Andrew about who Calestino was to me.

Seriously? How long had he been watching like a creep?

"Yes," I said gently, because it was technically true. Intentionally leaving out the part that Calestino was more like a brother to Paolo. Almost a family to me.

Philip hummed quietly, like he was filing the information away. "What does your husband do for work?"

I felt my jaw tighten.

I knew exactly what my husband was into. I also knew exactly what happened to people who asked too many questions about it.

Instead of answering, I tilted my head slightly. "Aren’t you late for your class?"

Philip looked at me for a moment. Not offended. Not surprised. Almost... amused.

"You’re ignoring me," he said.

"So are you," I pointed out. I was glad he picked on that so he knew I wasn’t stupid.

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Fair."

He glanced at his watch. "My class was canceled. I just needed to do some follow-up. Rearrange my office. That’s all for today."

Office.

Something about that word stayed with me.

"Oh," I said. "Then I won’t keep you from rearranging your office."

I slowed as we reached the lecture hall. The building loomed in front of us, students moving in and out, conversations overlapping.

"This is me," I told him, stopping.

Philip nodded. "Alright."

He took a step back, then another, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. "I’ll see you around, Reina."

The way he said my name made my shoulders tense. He said it with a weird familiarity. Like he had been saying my name a lot to the point it rolled out easily and smoothly on his tongue.

I watched him walk away. His pace was unhurried. His posture relaxed. Like he knew exactly where he was going and exactly how long he had to get there.

I stood there longer than I should have, replaying the exchange in my head. The way he dodged my question. The way Calestino had reacted to him. The way familiarity kept tugging at my thoughts without giving me anything solid.

I searched my memory hard. Parties. Events. Faces blurred together. But Philip remained just out of reach, like a name on the tip of my tongue that refused to surface.

After a few seconds, I gave up.

I went into the lecture hall.

The day dragged.

Each class felt longer than the last. Words blurred together. My pen moved without intention. Andrew’s face surfaced when I least expected it, followed immediately by Calestino’s sudden exit and Philip’s calm, unreadable eyes.

Every time I thought about Calestino, unease settled deeper in my chest. He didn’t abandon situations. He controlled them. If he left, it was because staying was more dangerous.

That thought didn’t comfort me either. And it made one question keep replaying in my head.

Is Philip White a dangerous person?

By the time my last lecture ended, my body felt heavy. The professor handed out materials we’d need to work on for the next few weeks, explaining expectations and deadlines. I barely listened. I shoved the papers into my bag and stood as soon as we were dismissed.

The sun was lower when I stepped into the parking lot. The air felt warmer. Louder. Students clustered around cars, laughing, lingering, stretching the day as long as possible.

I scanned for my car.

And then I saw him.

Domenico.

He was standing beside my car like it belonged to him—which technically it did. Like everything in the world did belong to him. A cigar sat sexily between his fingers, smoke curling lazily around him. He looked completely out of place among backpacks and jeans and loud voices.

And yet he looked like he belonged more than anyone else.

A few girls stood nearby, pretending not to stare at him. They weren’t subtle. One of them whispered something to the other and they both laughed, eyes glued to him.

He hadn’t noticed me yet.

I stopped walking.

Heat pooled low in my stomach, sharp and unwanted. My thighs pressed together instinctively. I hated how immediate my body’s reaction was. How it didn’t care about right or wrong or consequences.

He looked devastating.

Older. Controlled. Powerful in a quiet way that made everything else feel small. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t performing. He was simply existing, and it drew attention without effort.

I felt stupid for staring, but I couldn’t look away.

The ache in my chest surprised me. It wasn’t just desire. It was grief. Loss. The weight of a life I didn’t get to choose.

He should have been my husband.

The thought struck so hard it almost stole my breath.

Not his son. Not the man I married because it was necessary, because it was safer, because I didn’t know how to say no to helping my family. Domenico. The man I wasn’t supposed to want.

For one reckless second, I let myself imagine it. Meeting him first. Choosing him freely. Standing beside him without secrecy or shame.

Tears burned behind my eyes.

I blinked them back and forced myself to move.

He noticed me then.

His head lifted, gaze locking onto mine instantly. Everything else seemed to fade. The girls. The noise. The world. Every-fucking-thing!

I slowed despite myself, my pulse racing, my body responding to him like it always did.

And as I walked toward my car, I couldn’t stop thinking one terrible, honest thought.

I wished I had met him first.

I wished he could be mine and I could be his.