Page 92 of Pucking Daddy

I offer my arm. She takes it, her fingers warm through my jacket sleeve.

We make it halfway to the door before my phone buzzes.

I pull it out, ready to silence it, then freeze.

My ex-wife's name on the screen, with a message that makes my blood run cold.

Rachel:

Hope you’re enjoying playing house while you can. You know how easily things fall apart under pressure.

Zara leans over, reading the message. Her grip on my arm tightens.

“She sounds delightful,” she says flatly.

"I know."

She turns, facing me fully. This close, I can see the steel beneath her warmth, the fighter she is.

Her hand comes up, straightening my tie even though it does not need straightening. "Whatever they throw at us, we handle together. That was the deal."

I catch her wrist, holding her still. Her pulse jumps beneath my fingers.

I want to say something. The thing I couldn’t say earlier. But I don’t even know what that is, so I stay quiet.

Her eyes search mine. Whatever she finds makes something shift—vulnerability slipping through the armor, just for a moment.

Then Lily’s voice rings out from the living room. “You guys look like a movie!”

We pull apart, and I’m more confused than ever.

Because are we supposed to pretend to be in love… or pretend we’re not?

17

ZARA

Armor

The woman in the mirror looks like someone else entirely.

I smooth my hands down the lilac fabric clinging to my curves, the dress Simone messengered over this morning with a note that reads:

For tonight. You'll need armor.

She isn't wrong. The gown fits like it has been sewn directly onto my body—structured bodice, plunging neckline that stops just short of scandalous, and a slit up the left leg that makes walking feel like a performance.

I've never worn anything this expensive. The tag is still burned into my memory: four figures. For a dress I'd wear once.

"You look like a princess," Lily announced from my doorway twenty minutes ago, her eyes wide as dinner plates. "A lilac princess."

Mrs. Henriksen ushers her away, but the compliment lingers.

So does the knowledge that somewhere downstairs, Jaxon is waiting—and that out there, people are already digging into the credibility of our relationship.

My phone buzzes against the vanity.

Danny: