Page 90 of Knot your Good Girl

“Really? I’m walking back to the apartment now.”

I curl my hand, motioning for Harry to give me his cell.

“Where are you?” I grumble, trying to stop my voice from sounding harsh.

“When were you going to tell me everything?” she responds, not answering my question.

“Everything?” I ask, confused.

“You know about me. My OmegaFans account.”

“I was waiting for you to tell me.” I consider lying, but if I’m going to have a future with Holly, I need to tell her the full truth. But to her face, not over the phone. “I admit, I knew who you were from the beginning.”

“Beginning. You mean in the elevator?” Her voice hitches.

“No, before seeing you in the elevator.”

“Beforeyou offered me the money?“ she gasps.

“Yes. If you want to know more, come back to my apartment and we can talk about everything.”

“I always wondered ‘why me’? You could have chosen anyone to spend the holidays with. Probably never had to pay anyone else.”

“Come back to the penthouse, Holly. We can talk there. I’m on my way back now.”

“Okay,” she says, disconnecting the cell.

I groan as I stare at the ceiling.

Ten minutes later, I rush into my apartment to find Holly. Her eyes are red and puffy. Mascara streaks down her cheeks, but she’s no longer crying as she slides her finger along the names on the cell, as if she’s waiting for divine inspiration. “So you’ve been paying me on the OmegaFans app. You’re a subscriber.”

“I am, but it’s not like that.”

She tilts her head to one side and stares for a moment. “Then what is it like?”

“I wanted you. I wanted you more than I wanted anyone in my life.”

She laughs. She shows me her list of subscribers with a sardonic tone she asks, “Which one?”

“Daddywantshisgoodgirl.”

“I’m not your good girl. I’m...” She glances at the ceiling. She shakes her head. “How long have you known?”

“I knew who you were from the beginning.”

“Who am I?“ Her voice hitches.

“The OmegaFans app. I subscribed to your first account four years ago. I’ve been following this account for over a year.”

A lump forms in her throat, causing a ripple as she swallows.

She opens her mouth. I place my finger over her lips. “Please let me speak.” Anxiety takes hold unexpectedly, gripping tightly. I pick up a glass and pour a bourbon and take a sip.

“Back then I was Daddy’sBadOmega.” She looks confused and I continue, “The subscriber who you agreed to meet three years ago. For a year I sent you gifts, massive tips, and clothes. And one day you finally agreed to meet with me. I waited for you for three hours.”

“Three hours,” she whispers.

“And then when I tried to contact you. You deleted me and blocked me from your account.”

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