Page 63 of Filthy Mouth
“You married her?”
“Close enough. She wears my ring, and she’ll never remove it.”
He opened his mouth but snapped it shut again.
“I take it you understand the significance of what I’ve said today, because these are not empty threats.”
He abruptly stood and turned to leave.
“One more thing, Isaac,” I said, waiting until he faced me.“Did you know your wife abused Poppy?”
He looked away, and my lip curled in disgust.
“I only need to hear it from one person. If any of you malign Poppy or Iona Designs, you’re all for the sewers. Now fuck off out of my office.”
The streets were too good for these cunts.
I video-called Poppy just to assure myself she was safe and happy. Her face appeared, and she tucked her hair behind her ear.
“Hi, Daddy,” she beamed.“I thought you were busy all afternoon.”
“I’m never too busy for my Princess,” I murmured, bringing the phone closer.
She narrowed her eyes at me.
“Why are you being so nice?”
“Hey, why are you suspicious?” I asked innocently.
“I told you I have a hard limit on shit.”
I chuckled, remembering her words from her ‘prostitution days’.
“I miss you and can’t wait to be done with work.”
“Oh. That’s sweet of you, Daddy.”
She began telling me about her new clients. Since we announced her company as the main interior designers, she was busier than ever. I listened to every word, enjoying the sight of her excitement. She kept her mother’s legacy alive single-handedly, despite the odds.
This was how I wanted her to remain.
Happy, safe and excited about life.
Epilogue: Infinity Edition
Poppy
Four Years Later
The lift doors opened, and I grinned when I heard Olivia squeal. I kicked off my heels beside my bag and went straight into Olivia’s room. The splashes told me it was bath time with Daddy. I leaned on the doorway to watch them. Benedict had his shirt sleeves rolled up, a ridiculous heap of bubbles on his head as he amused our toddler in the tub.
My company expanded so quickly that Benedict stepped back from his role to care for Olivia. If there was ever a man built to be a girl-dad, it was Benedict. From the moment Olivia was conceived, he treated me like a priceless artefact. He lasted a month—until one nasty morning blow job reminded him exactly what kind of relic I was.
My life was better than perfect since I had no contact with my family. I never heard from any of them again, nor did we invite them to our wedding. I bit my lip, remembering our wedding night in our crimson boudoir. Daddy had dived in fist-first, and when I squirted, he drank from me as if it were the fountain of youth.
“Mummy!”
“Hello, darling,” I said with a smile and kissed my rosy-cheeked girl.
