Page 1 of V-Day Daddy Stalker

Prologue

Dane

I shouldn’t be here. Hell, I know that better than anyone. But knowing something is wrong has never stopped me before. Not when it comes to her.

The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the quiet street, wrapping me in just enough darkness to stay hidden. I’m crouched behind the hedges lining the edge of the property, close enough to see every detail but far enough to avoid being caught. Not that I ever let myself get too close. Watching is enough. It has to be.

At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

There she is.

Her car rolls into the driveway, engine humming softly before it cuts off. She steps out, backpack slung over one shoulder, a few strands of her dark hair caught by the breeze. She’s wearingjeans and a fitted sweater that hugs her curves in a way that makes my pulse quicken. I clench my fists, the rough bark of the bush pressing into my palms, grounding me.

Breathe, Dane.

She doesn’t notice me. She never does. Why would she? To her, I’m just Uncle Dane—her dad’s best friend, the man who’s always been around but never quite belonged. Safe, harmless, invisible.

If only she knew.

I watch as she walks to the front door, pulling her keys from her bag, humming a quiet tune I can’t make out. The sound shouldn’t make my chest tighten, but it does. Everything about her does. The way she moves, the way her lips curve when she’s lost in thought. She has no idea the kind of power she holds.

The door clicks open, and she disappears inside. I exhale slowly, tension bleeding from my shoulders now that she’s out of sight. But the hunger remains, sharp and gnawing, like an itch I can’t scratch. It’s always there, growing stronger each time I see her.

I know this is wrong. Every second I’m here, watching her, makes me sink deeper into the dark. But I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. Not when she’s the only thing that makes me feel alive anymore.

This isn’t just obsession. It’s something worse, something primal. And I know it won’t end until I have her.

But not yet. Not today. I can wait.

For her, I’ll wait as long as it takes.

1

Sienna

I turn off the engine and sit for a moment in the driver’s seat, letting out a slow breath. My parents’ house looms before me like a grand postcard memory: all stone walls, tall windows, and lush landscaping. Even though I’ve been away at college for only a couple of months, it feels like a lifetime. I’m both nervous and excited, butterflies fluttering around in my stomach like they’ve been trapped all summer. I grab my phone, realizing there’s no reason to stall any longer, and push the car door open.

Stepping onto the curved driveway, I stretch my arms overhead. The late afternoon sun warms my skin, and the sweet scent of blooming roses from my mother’s meticulously tended garden drifts on the breeze. It reminds me of my childhood—running barefoot through these manicured lawns, trying not to crush the flowerbeds. Despite the fancy surroundings, this place has always been home, and I can’t help the giddy smile tugging at my lips.

As I approach the front door, I notice the huge bay windows are open, letting in fresh air. That’s my mom—she loves natural lightand believes in airing out the house at every opportunity. I jiggle the doorknob, and it gives way, unlocked like always. Stepping inside, I’m immediately greeted by the shine of polished floors, the echo of my own footsteps, and the comforting smell of vanilla.

Mom appears in the foyer before I can even call out. “Sienna!” she squeals, rushing toward me. She looks the same as ever—kind eyes, warm smile, slightly frazzled hair from the whirlwind of her day. She envelops me in a hug so tight, I almost can’t breathe, but I love it. I laugh into her shoulder and wrap my arms around her waist.

“I missed you, Mom,” I say softly, inhaling the faint scent of her lavender perfume.

She pulls back, hands on my shoulders, and gives me that all-knowing once-over. “Let me look at you. Are you eating enough? You look thin!”

I roll my eyes affectionately. “The dining hall food isn’t exactly gourmet, but I’m surviving. I’ve had a few too many late-night pizzas though.”

“College,” she teases, smoothing my hair back behind my ear. “Well, I’ve made your favorite tonight. Chicken Alfredo and homemade garlic bread. I hope you’re hungry, because I cooked enough to feed an army.”

My stomach growls at the mere mention of her cooking. “Starving,” I admit.

Mom takes my hand and leads me into the living room. The entire house is bright, the walls painted in a pale cream that complements the hardwood floors. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in rays of sunshine, turning everything golden and warm. Ona side table, a vase is filled with fresh wildflowers—probably daisies, my mom’s favorite. Everything is pristine, but there’s a cozy feeling about the place too.

My father’s voice booms from somewhere deeper in the house. “Sienna, is that you?” A moment later, he strides into the living room. He’s wearing a crisp button-down shirt and slacks, his hair silvering at the temples. He’s still handsome, with that businesslike confidence that has always intimidated my friends growing up.

“Dad!” I squeak and hurry over to him. He pulls me in for a quick, firm hug.

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