Chapter 02 A total DILF fantasy

***Olivia's POV***

The slam of the balcony door echoed through the room. I stood in the center of my new prison, shivering as the rain on my skin turned into needles of ice.

I glared at the door Chandler had just disappeared behind.

The nerve of him.

Five years. He had been gone for five f*cking years, building his own world in London. And now he was back to play the role of the big, bad warden. What is he? My new Daddy?

I caught my reflection in the mirror and flinched. I looked like a drowned rat. No wonder Chandler had snapped at me. He probably looked at me and saw the same messy kid who used to follow him around whenever he visited Dad.

He probably thought I was pathetic.

I marched into the bathroom, kicking off my ruined heels and stripping off the wet silk. I finished quickly, towel-drying my hair until it was slightly dry.

Damn it, maybe getting wet under the rain wasn't a smart idea as my first act of defiance with this setup I didn't sign up for.

I walked back into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around my body, expecting to find it empty, but he was there.

Chandler was leaning against the dresser, his jacket discarded on the bed. He’d rolled up his shirt sleeves, and I couldn't help but stare. His forearms were corded with muscle, dusted with dark hairs.

My stomach did a traitorous little flip.

Had he always been so... big and thick?

This man was thirty-eight, in the absolute prime of his life, and he looked like f*cking model. With his well-defined features, great hair, broad shoulders and muscles. Everything about him was big, manly and intimidating.

It was infuriating. How was I supposed to argue with a man who looked like a total DILF fantasy?

I glared at him. "Am I also not allowed of my privacy. For f*ck's sake, let me change first!"

"Two minutes. In the bathroom."

This is insane. He's f*cking insane!

I looked at him in disbelief, I huffed and hurriedly went to my suitcase to find myself something to wear, I felt his eyes followed my movement and my skin burned.

I grabbed a hoodie and shorts, went back to the bathroom to change, then returned to the bedroom. He was still in the same position, his eyes on me while he tilted his head to the side, waiting for me to speak.

"What?" I snapped.

His gaze was heavy. "What were you doing in the rain?"

"Being miserable," I shrugged, I rolled my eyes, sighing heavily. "I've been waiting for you to show your face for hours, Chandler, so let's get this over with."

His gaze lingered, sweeping from my damp hair down to my clothed body. He didn't look like he was happy to see me at all, he looked like I was a problem he was trying to solve.

"This is far from over," he said and walked toward me, his size making the room feel suddenly cramped. My height was basically almost the same. From where I stood, I could tell I still barely reached his chin

"You’re nearly forty, my dearest Uncle Chandler. Don’t you have a mid-life crisis to attend to?" I hissed, backing away until my back hit the bathroom door. I tried to look at his eyes, but my gaze kept dropping to the sharp line of his jaw.

"I know you know why we're in this situation right now," he countered, his voice a low tone that I felt in my toes.

He stepped into my personal space, his shadow swallowing me whole.

"And that starts with your social life. I’ve seen enough photos of you and your boyfriend to know exactly where you're heading. This 'Drake' is a distraction you're done with."

I f*cking knew it.

"You don't even know him! You have no right to say that, you weren't here! He’s the only one who was there for me after the funeral... after Dad..." I swallowed, heat striking at the back of my eyes.

"I know enough. He's a dead end." Chandler leaned in, his scent hitting me. "From now on, you will have your curfew. No clubs, no late-night disappearances."

"You're insane," I breathed, looking up at him. "And a miserable old man who likes to boss people around."

"If I'm an old man, then you're a brat who needs a leash," he whispered, his voice dropping to a low, lethal rasp that made the air in the room feel thin.

He leaned in until I could feel the heat of his body, his towering frame effectively pinning me against the door. I felt so little in front of him, so helpless and the new life awaiting me was finally sinking in.

"Try me, Olivia," he murmured, his dark eyes narrowing as he put his hand on the door besides my head. "Push me..."

I looked up at him, my heart hammering so hard against my ribs it hurt.

I wanted to snap back, to scream that he couldn't talk to me that way, but the words were trapped in my throat. The sheer, physical weight of his presence was enough to silence me.

"See exactly how far my mid-life crisis patience goes before I decide you need to be taught how to sit and stay," he mocked me casually.

He stayed there for a bit too long, his gaze dropping to my lips before snapping back to my eyes, a flicker of something dark crossing his face that I didn't understand.

He turned on his heel and walked out, the click of the door sounding final. I collapsed onto the floor, my legs shaking too much to hold me up.

The tears finally came.