Page 15 of Primal God

Cecely sticks out her tongue. “Oh, you’re going to owe me for this.”

I’m laughing as she walks away, and I turn in the order to the cook. Luckily, there are tasks I can do behind the scenes until Dr. Santos and his friends leave, like wrapping silverware.

I sit at the small table, letting my thoughts aimlessly wander as I roll the linen napkins around the silverware. It’s been years since I’ve seen or even thought of João, if I’m being honest. After I broke up with him, I heard he went to school abroad, which was good for me. It meant no awkward encounters, and, over time, he didn’t even cross my mind.

The same can’t be said for his father, though. While I haven’t seen him in person, I’ve thought about Dr. Santos. Okay, let’s be real. I’ve fantasized about him. Lord knows my neighbors probably tire of hearing me call out his name when I come. My cheeks warm as I grab another napkin. Yeah, Daddy Dimitri has been on my mind. A lot.

After I finish wrapping the silverware, I check in with my other tables. I hate that my gaze goes to Dr. Santos’ table. His friends are still there, but he’s not.

As I pass, I hear one man saying, “Think we ought to check on Santos? He’s been in there a while.”

“Give him a few. He always gets upset when Serafina is mentioned.”

That has me slowing my pace.

The other man adds, “He hasn’t been the same since she died.”

What? When did Mrs. Santos pass away? I hurry back to the kitchen, where I pull my phone from my pocket and go to João’s social media. My heart falls when I finally see the post from João about his mother. She died a month ago after a complication in childbirth. The hairs on my arms stand. It’s the same way my mother died. João goes on to say that his baby sister, Isadora, survived, and to send prayers for the family.

“Poor Dr. Santos,” I murmur.

I don’t know what possesses me, but I leave the kitchen and head to the hallway where the bathrooms are located. Dr. Santos is standing outside the men’s restroom, leaning heavily against the wall.

“Dr. Santos?”

He lifts his head. I know the moment he recognizes me, because his lips lift in a slow smile, sending a warm tingle through my body.

“Ms. Wolfe, what a pleasant surprise.”

I move closer and touch his arm. “Do you need help getting back to your table?”

He snorts, and I can smell the whisky on his breath.

“No. I needed a moment away from those pricks.” His gaze roams slowly down me, making me shiver. “You’re looking well, Ms. Wolfe.”

“Thank you.” I roll my bottom lip between teeth. “I’m?—”

“Did I ever tell you that you were right?”

“Right? About what?”

“About that night.” His gaze searches mine. “When you said I was angry because I wished I was the one out there with you in the pool.”

My lips part.

Surely, this is the alcohol talking. Right?

He straightens, looking down at me. “Do you want to know a secret, Ms. Wolfe?”

I nod because I’m not sure my voice will work.

“I wrapped the panties you dropped that night around my cock and got off.” He leans in. “More than once.”

We’re so close that I can see the gold swirls in his brown eyes.

“Dr. Santos…”

He makes a sound. “None of that, little girl. Right now, I’m your Daddy.”

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