Daddy

SCARLETT

I realized that once you've tasted even a bit of forbidden things, you wanted to get some more of it. I was sitting through brunch with my mother and pretending I wasn't thinking about Simon's voice telling me to wear that dress again.

“And Simon might take us to Monaco next month,” Cynthia said excitedly across the breakfast table. “Wouldn't that be amazing?”

I forced herself back into the conversation. “What?”

My mother sighed dramatically. “You never listen lately.”

Because your husband keeps looking at me like he wants to ruin my life.

I stabbed at my fruit with unnecessary force. “Sorry, I'm tired.”

“You're always tired.”

I glanced toward the empty seat at the end of the table. Simon wasn't there this morning. For some reason, disappointment curled unexpectedly in my stomach. It was pathetic really and I hated myself for it.

“Simon already left for work,” Cynthia added absent mindedly, as though reading my thoughts. “Big meeting.”

“Oh.”

My mother smirked suddenly. “You seem much more comfortable around him lately.”

I nearly choked on her coffee.

“What?”

“I’m glad,” Cynthia continued casually. “I was worried you’d never adjust.”

I looked down quickly, praying my face wasn't betraying me again because the problem was that Simon had invaded every corner of my thoughts.

And judging by the way he looked at me, I invaded him too.

***

That evening, I decided I needed air. So after dinner, while my mum attended some charity event in the city, I slipped outside into the estate gardens alone.

The night air was cool against my skin as I wandered between dimly lit pathways and towering hedges. For the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe properly…until I heard footsteps behind me.

It was Simon. Dark dress shirt rolled at the sleeves, tie gone, one hand tucked casually into his pocket as he walked toward me through the moonlight.

He looked unfairly good at night.

“You're out late,” he said calmly.

I crossed her arms instinctively. “You startled me.”

“Yet you already knew it was me.”

My stomach tightened because he was right.

“Where's my mother?” I asked.

“At her event.”

Of course he knew exactly what I meant, they were completely alone.

I looked away first. “You work too much.”

“And you avoid me too much.”

I sighed softly. “You notice everything don't you?”

“I do.”

Simon leaned slightly against the stone edge of the fountain while studying her face.

“You've been restless lately.”

I laughed nervously. “Now you’re psychoanalyzing me again.”

“I don’t need to analyze you.” His eyes darkened slightly. “You're very expressive.”

I cupped my cheeks lightly as I could feel the heat against them. Simon's gaze lingered there.

“You know,” I said lightly, “most stepfathers probably don't stare at their stepdaughters this much.”

The second the words left my mouth, everywhere became still.

“Careful.” He said. But instead of stopping, something reckless inside me pushed further, maybe because I was tired of pretending.

“Why?” I whispered.

“Because you keep saying things designed to provoke me,” Simon said stepping closer.

“Maybe you like being provoked.”

His eyes dragged over my face. “There it is, that little attitude.”

I swallowed hard, the air suddenly felt too thick to breathe. Simon reached out, taking a strand of hair between his fingers before tucking it slowly behind the ear.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured.

My breath got caught sharply. Every rational thought in my head told me to step away but I didn't. Instead she whispered, “Then tell me.”

Simon's jaw tightened instantly. “You shouldn't ask questions you don't want the answer to.”

I stared up at him, moonlight reflected in his eyes and suddenly the word slipped out before I could stop it.

“Daddy.”

Simon froze and my body went cold from realization. Oh God! Why did I say that?

I opened her mouth quickly. “I didn't mean—”

Simon grabbed my jaw suddenly and I gasped softly. His breathing had changed and the look in his eyes became something dark enough to ruin me completely.

“Say it again.”

My lips parted helplessly. “Simon—”

“That's not what you called me.”

Everything about this moment was wrong. Yet I could feel myself unraveling beneath his gaze. Simon's thumb brushed slowly across my lower lip.

“You have no idea,” he said quietly, “how dangerous that word is coming from you.”

I trembled beneath his hand, my thoughts were a mess now, all tangled together and I could separate one from the other anymore.

Simon noticed my shaky breath, flushed skin, the way my thighs pressed together instinctively and a dark look crossed his face.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath.

My pulse spiked, then headlights suddenly flashed across the driveway nearby. Both of them jerked apart instantly.

My mother was back. Reality crashed back brutally.

Simon stepped away first, dragging a hand down his face roughly like he was curious with himself.

My chest rose unevenly as the car pulled closer, another few seconds and Cynthia would see them standing alone together in the gardens at midnight looking guilty as hell. Simon's expression transformed instantly back into cold composure.

“Go inside,” he said quietly. The command should've annoyed me, instead it made heat curl low in my stomach. I turned quickly toward the mansion and reached the entrance but just before stepping inside, Simon's voice stopped me one last time.

“Scarlett.”

I looked back, his eyes locked into mine beneath the moonlight. Then his voice dropped low enough to make my entire body shiver.

“Don't call me that unless you want consequences.”