Page 10 of Scaled Daddy's Secret Heir

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Her eyes are calculating. But tired. The kind of tired that doesn’t sleep off.

She finally says, “You from off-world?”

“Vakutan sector.”

“Figures. You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The ‘I came here voluntarily and now I regret every life choice’ look.”

I grin. “You don’t even know my name.”

“Don’t need to. Regret’s universal.”

And just like that, we’re talking.

Not deeply. Not honestly. But the rhythm builds—back and forth, tension wrapped in sarcasm, wit hiding nerves neither of us wants to admit. She doesn’t trust me. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But she didn’t walk away.

That’s a start.

I don’t feel like I’m wearing someone else’s skin.

Just mine.

And hers?

Hers fits the space beside me far too well.

CHAPTER 4

LEAH

He’s not here for the coffee.

Doesn’t matter how casual he makes his posture or how well-worn his boots look—he sits like a coiled cable, all quiet control and predator stillness. Not predatory, exactly. Just... deliberately placed. Like if you blink, he might be gone. Or closer.

I clock him in three seconds flat.

No one that broad moves that silently. No one from Vakutan sectors shows up unannounced unless they’re shopping for something.

Or someone.

And he’s watching me. Not the way creeps do, with that slow-drip sleaze that sets off alarms. This is cleaner. Tactical. His eyes do the work of a dozen scanners—tracking posture shifts, stress tells, behavioral tics. He’s reading me like I’m a glitch in a codebase he can’t leave unsolved.

So I smile.

Just a flicker, but I know it hits like a slap.

If we’re going to do this dance, I’m not showing up unarmed.

“Rough day?”he says like it’s an opening volley.

I reply with, “Does it look like I want conversation, or is this just your mating ritual?”

He laughs. Points to him for not flinching.

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