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All of this started as a fuck you to the Rhodeses, but somehow this messed up joke resulted in me and my friends becoming completely enamored with my beautiful fake fiancée. Last night, she charmed the hell out of my dad, and I’m pretty sure he’s almost as besotted with his future daughter-in-law as I am. He never asked her about the bruises that still cover her face, and I think she forgot they’re even still visible. But when he pulled me aside, I told him the truth—that her parents weren’t happy about our engagement and attacked her.
I know she won’t be happy about that, that’s the one truth I’m willing to disclose, but I needed to make sure he didn’t let her family convince him to send her home. If I have anything to do with it, she’ll never set foot in that house again.
Trailing my fingers idling along her spine, I slowly slide my cock out of her and roll to my side. Her chest is still heaving, and her breathy pants make a soft smile tip at my lips. “You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she rasps, turning to face me. “I really like that position.”
Chuckling, I reach up and palm the side of her neck, resting my thumb over her fluttering pulse. “Me too. I wish we could stay in bed a little longer, but we have to get up. Yolanda will be here soon.”
“Urgh,” she groans. “I’m not ready to deal with real life.”
“It’s all going to be okay, but if you need a distraction, let me know. There are plenty of classrooms where I can bend you over a desk,” I tease.
“Gulliver,” she gasps, but she looks almost as intrigued as she does scandalized.
“Do you like that idea, Little Ghost? Does the thought of me pulling up your school skirt and fucking you over a desk turn you on?” I ask, dragging her to me until my hardening dick is sliding between her wet folds.
A knock at the door makes Izzy tense, and I sigh, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before I climb out of bed and pad naked across the room. “What?” I bark, cupping my junk, then opening the door just far enough to see Beth standing in the hallway.
“Oh, Mr. Winslow. I…” she stutters, clearly not expecting to see me half-naked and opening the door. “Miss Izabella’s hair and makeup artist is here,” she says quickly, her eyes wide, her cheeks pink with embarrassment.
“Thank you. Ask her to set up in the den, we’ll be down in a few minutes,” I say curtly. Closing the door, I turn, hoping to crawl back into bed, but Izzy is already up and heading to the bathroom.
“You could always send Yolanda away and go into school smelling like sex and looking freshly fucked,” I tease, striding to her and kissing her quickly.
“Well, that would definitely make an impression, but no.” She laughs, flashing me a seductive wink over her shoulder as she rushes into the bathroom.
When she wanders into the dining room an hour later, she looks radiant. The GAA uniform is pretty unexciting, but today I’m seeing it in a new light. Every other time I’ve seen her dressed for school, she’s worn a fitted, knee-length version of the plaid uniform skirt with her blouse and blazer. Today, she’s wearing a pinafore dress with a short, flippy skirt and thigh-high socks. She’s still wearing a blazer, but the sleeves have been folded back, and somehow, she’s turned a dowdy green uniform into something sexy. Yolanda’s styled her hair into messy waves, with some of it pulled into a half ponytail on top of her head that looks perky and cute. Her makeup is subtle and natural, apart from the bright red lipstick that’s staining her lips. The red color is defiant and outspoken and a visible “fuck you” to Penelope. And I fucking love it. When she starts to walk past me, I grab her arm, pull her off balance, and drag her into my lap, slamming my lips to hers.
When I reluctantly pull back, her eyes are wide as she glances at my dad, who is watching us with amusement sparkling in his eyes.
“Izzy, sweetheart, what would you like for breakfast? Beth’s eggs are amazing, and I know she made a batch of waffles,” Dad asks her, his smile soft and full of newly discovered affection.
“That sounds amazing, I’m starving,” she confesses, swatting away my hands and climbing out of my lap to sit in the chair next to mine.
“Do you want coffee, Little Ghost?” I ask her, rising from my chair and grabbing the pot of coffee that’s already waiting on the side.
“Yes, please.”
“Dad?”
“Yes, please, I’ll have another. Excuse me for a moment, I’m going to go and let Beth know what Izzy wants to eat, then I’ll be right back,” Dad says, pushing away from the table.
“I can do that,” Izzy protests, but Dad waves her off.
Pouring coffee into a mug, I add creamer, then carry it to the table and place it in front of her. “Thank you,” she says sweetly, immediately reaching for her cup and sighing when the hot liquid touches her lips.
Grabbing the pot, I refill mine and Dad’s mugs, handing his to him when he strides back into the room.
“Beth was making bacon. I told her to put some on your waffles, sweetheart,” he tells Izzy.
“Thank you, Mr. Winslow.”
“None of that formality, call me Donovan or Dad.”
Izzy blushes, her cheeks heating until they’re almost the same color as her lipstick. I decide to save her from any further embarrassment, despite how cute she is when she’s off balance like this.
“We’re all riding in Thorn’s limo today,” I tell her.
