Page 27 of Savage Daddies

“Go, quickly, all of you,” I hiss.

Six eyes stare back at me with worry after taking in the house’s size.

Mr. Reeves extends his eyes past the gate. “You could get lost in there.”

The burn between my legs worsens. It’s like leaving empty-handed.

“I want to see you all again,” I say.

Mr. Reeves and his tall friend both grimace.

Wrangler just stares.

I’ll take that as a no, then…

I turn on my heel and begin to head home, approaching the gate.

“You will see us again,” says Wrangler. Delayed response. “You’re Felix Fernando’s wife. That doesn’t make you hard to find.”

This lifts a smile onto my face, but a short-lived one, because they’re leaving now.

“Thanks for the ride.”

Mr. Reeves nods.

Then they’re starting up their engines in unison and motoring away.

The sound of chirping crickets takes over. Focusing on the noise gets me to sleep if the vibrator fails, but normally, the nights I manage to drift off are the same nights that Sammy struggles.

God, I can’t believe I left her alone with him.

He suggested a nanny a while back, but why hire a stranger to bring up a child when their own mother is available?

Facial recognition unlocks the main door for me, and I slip inside, careful not to slam it. There’s very little to like about Felix, but his mansion is worth marveling over. It’s a complex with three acres of desert land, but he had builders come in six years ago when he moved in to fill the rock with unnaturally green grass. Looking at pictures, I prefer the way it was before. The grass isn’t real and never has to be cut, but I guess Sammy has a safe space to play. That’s the only positive.

It’s a sandstone-built place, three stories. Grand, arched windows ornament the front of the house. A short bridge connects one part of the house to the other, semi-circles over the driveway to take you to the business part of the house.

I don’t know why Felix built a separate building. It’s not like he has a work life balance and saves phone calls for one designated side.

My favorite part about the house is when I get to leave it.

Other than that, it’s the three palm trees swinging in the wind in front of it. Those aren’t artificial. They grew one day, and Felix was pissed because they cracked the newly laid marble driveway he’d just spent two arms and four legs on.

I tiptoe up the grand staircase and pad across the hall to my room.

Cracking open the door to Sammy’s room, I check on her. The soft rise and fall of her chest relieves me, but not for long when I remind myself that the only reason she’s asleep is because she probably exhausted herself from all of the crying.

Without my presence, she gets tearful.

Closing the door, I advance to my room, undress, and slip beneath the covers. The vibrator on the nightstand flashes from last night with a quarter charge, but I bury my head in Egyptian-cotton sheets and feel guilty because that’s what I’m supposed to feel, right? For admitting to my ex-teacher that jewelry is the only way Felix and I are tied?

Grazing my hand over Mr. Reeves’ dick? What was I thinking?

But he hardened in my grasp…

He groaned—not once, but twice.

He’s a biker now, and I should be repulsed, but I wasn’t before.

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