Chapter 6

The roar of eighty thousand people vibrating through the concrete floor of the private VIP suite felt like a physical weight pressing against my skin. The air was thick, humid with the smell of expensive perfume, spilled champagne, and the metallic tang of adrenaline. I was pressed back against the plush velvet of the sectional sofa, my legs still trembling from the hours of dancing, of being watched, of being *seen*. But it wasn’t the crowd I was thinking about. It was him. My Daddy. He stood over me, a towering silhouette against the backdrop of the stadium lights bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls. He was still in his suit, though the jacket was tossed carelessly onto a chair, the tie loosened enough to suggest he’d been pulling at it for hours, trying to keep his composure. His eyes, dark and hungry, raked over my body, lingering on the way my skirt had ridden up my thighs, exposing the bare skin that was flushed from exertion. "Come here, baby girl," he commanded, his voice a low rumble that cut through the music. I didn’t hesitate. I slid off the couch, my bare feet sinking into the thick pile carpet,