Lia Steel was a bitch. Not only she had fucked your boyfriend but she used to be your best friend. Keyword. Used.

You were both twenty years old, and Lia’s dad, Jonathan Steel was thirty seven. very handsome, like, Calvin Klein model kinda handsome and very divorced.

One day, you were scrolling through your phone when a snap from her came, you opened it, it was a picture of your ex, eli, with her, kissing, and it said: “still miss my man?”

You rolled your eyes and scrolled back through your photos. You weren’t one for receipts… usually. But this time? Oh, this time you’d made an exception.

Tap. Send.

The picture landed in her inbox: you, in his oversized T-shirt, legs tangled in Egyptian cotton, Jonathan Steel’s bare arm around your waist, his face turned toward your neck, eyes closed: “no but your dad’s asking when you’re coming back home, also, your daddy calls me princess now.”