Page 97 of Daddy Sees Snakes

We occasionally text, but for the most part it’s radio silence.

I feel a pang of disappointment but quickly squash it down.

Tonight is about me and Allegra, not my forbidden feelings for her father.

Speaking of... I glance over at my beautiful best friend, radiant in the glow of the streetlights.

She's chatting animatedly with the group of people ahead of us in line, her laughter carrying over the din of the crowd.

I won't let my selfish desires ruin the most important relationship in my life.

Allegra deserves better than that.

She deserves a loyal friend, not a backstabbing Jezebel sleeping with her dad behind her back.

So, I vow then and there to put some much-needed distance between me and Viper.

To stop indulging in our clandestine encounters, no matter how much my traitorous body craves his touch.

It won't be easy, but it's the right thing to do until we can tell her.

God, wehaveto tell her.

For Allegra, for our friendship, and for my own sanity.

I'm drawn out of my contemplation by Allegra grabbing my arm excitedly as we reach the front of the line. "We're up next!" she squeals. "Let's show 'em how it's done."

I flash the bouncer a flirty smile as he checks our IDs.

"Ready to tear up the dance floor?" I ask Allegra with a wink.

"Born ready, baby," she laughs.

And with that, we saunter arm-in-arm into the club, ready to make more mischief and memories.

I feel lighter somehow, freed from the burden of my illicit desires.

Tonight, I'm just Iris—bold, brazen, and unapologetically myself.

And for the first time in a long time, that feels like more than enough.

The two of us down two more shots of tequila each and make our way to the dance floor.

We’re dancing the night away and it feels like we’re in an episode ofSex in the City.

At least, it does until a set of rough hands grab me from behind, spinning me around and away from Allegra.

I'm ready to unleash hell on whoever dares manhandle me, but the words die on my tongue when I see who it is.

Lyon.

My ex from hell.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Well, well, well," he drawls, his grip on my upper arms tightening to the point of pain. "If it isn't the Siren of Satin Dreams, in the flesh."

I know Lyon.

---