Good Girl

SCARLETT

I tossed around the bed aimlessly, I was unable to close my eyes to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Simon Laurent standing in my doorway, staring at my legs and lips like he was imagining something he shouldn't.

I checked the time, 3:17 AM. At this point there was no point of trying to sleep. I climbed out of bed and padded barefoot across the room wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt and tiny sleep shorts. I poured myself a glass of water from the crystal decanter near the shelves trying desperately not to think about Simon.

My thoughts betrayed me instantly. The way his voice deepened when he said my name. The terrifying feeling that he wanted to touch me.

“Stop,” I whispered to myself. This was sick, he is my stepfather now. Even if technically they weren't related by blood, it didn't matter, it was still shameful and disgusting. So why couldn't I stop imagining him?

Why did my thighs press together every time I remembered the way he looked at me?

I think I need a coffee or drink to drive this madness away.

Halfway down, I heard voices, male voices. And one of them belonged to Simon.

“...don't care what the board thinks,” he said coldly somewhere nearby. “Fix it.”

There was silence before another man spoke nervously. “The investors are concerned about the merger.”

“Then they can concern themselves somewhere else.”

His tone felt too calm. I moved carefully toward the sound peering slightly into a partially open room.

Simon stood inside what looked like a private office, phone pressed to his ear. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing tattooed veins along his forearms.

God. Why was that so attractive?

The office itself was dark and masculine. Black shelves lined with books. Whiskey bottles glinting beneath warm lighting.

Simon turned suddenly and I held my breath. His eyes landed directly on me and sharpened immediately. The silence stretched for one dangerous second before he spoke back into the phone.

“I'll call you tomorrow.”

Then he ended the call. I stepped backward instinctively

.

“Sorry, I was just looking for the kitchen.”

Simon studied me silently. His gaze traveled slowly downward. Bare legs, tiny shorts, barefoot. The look in his eyes darkened almost imperceptibly.

“I can have someone bring food upstairs for you,” he said finally.

“I’m not hungry.” That was a flat lie, I was hungry but suddenly not for food.

Simon leaned one shoulder against the desk casually, though nothing about him actually looked relaxed. “You should be asleep.”

I laughed softly. “Couldn't sleep.”

“Why's that?”

Because of you!!!! I wanted to yell.

“I'm in a strange house, a strange environment.”

His eyes remained fixed on me. “Is that the only reason?”

The question hit hard and I looked away quickly. “You always interrogate people like this?”

“Only when they're avoiding the truth.”

My stomach was in knots, how I wanted this man to just ram himself into me and claim me.

“You should wear warmer clothes,” he said quietly.

I frowned. “What?”

“It’s cold.”

His gaze lingered on my exposed thighs again.

I swallowed hard. “I didn’t realize there was a dress code for insomnia.”

One corner of Simon’s mouth twitched slightly; that was the first almost-smile I had seen from him. It made him even more dangerous.

“You enjoy provoking people,” he observed.

“Maybe you enjoy being provoked.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them. His expression changed subtly, like he understood exactly what I meant.

“You should be careful Scarlett,” Simon said softly.

The way he said my name sent heat spiraling low into my stomach again.

“Why?” I whispered.

His eyes darkened.

“Because you don’t fully understand what you’re doing yet.”

My lips parted slightly before I could stop myself.

Simon noticed a muscle flexed sharply in his jaw.

Then, they heard footsteps upstairs. Both of them stepped apart instantly. My mother appeared at the top of the staircase wearing a silk robe, looking half asleep. “Simon?”

The tension shattered immediately. Simon's expression turned unreadable again.

“Yes?”

“I thought I heard voices.” Cynthia smiled tiredly before noticing me. “Oh. Honey, you’re awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” I said quickly.

My voice sounded strange to my own ears.

Simon stepped farther away from me. “Scarlett was looking for the kitchen.”

Cynthia laughed softly. “You’ll get lost in this house for weeks.”

I forced a smile.

If only getting lost was the worst thing happening here.

***

I avoided Simon for three days, or at least I tried to. The Laurent mansion was too large and too intimate at the same time. Even when he wasn't physically present, I still felt him everywhere. I couldn't stop thinking about his voice, the way he spoke to me.

I stayed in my room late into the mornings, wandered the gardens when Simon was in meetings, and ate dinner only after confirming through the staff that he was still working in his office.

It felt childish but necessary because every interaction with him chilled away at my self control a little more.

On the fourth night, Mother had insisted I attend dinner.

“Simon barely sees you,” Cynthia complained while adjusting bracelets in front of the mirror earlier that evening. “You disappear constantly.”

I forced a shrug. “I've been tired.”

“Well, tonight you're eating with us. No excuses.”

So now I was sitting stiffly at the massive dining table wearing a black silk dress I suddenly regretted choosing.

Simon sat directly across from me. Mum was busy discussing Charity events and social dinners. His attention appeared focused on the wine in his glass but I knew better because every few minutes his eyes lifted toward me.

I took a shaky sip of wine.

“You don't drink often,” he observed calmly.

My mother laughed. “Scarlett's terrible with alcohol.”

I shot her a look. “Thanks.”

“It's true, one glass and you start saying things you shouldn't.”

Simon's gaze darkened almost immediately.

“Interesting,” he murmured.

I wanted to crawl under the table. The rest of dinner felt unbearable.

Every accidental brush of Simon’s gaze felt intimate now. Mother noticed absolutely nothing mostly because she wasn't paying attention. It should have made me feel relieved but instead it made her feel guilty, because part of her had started anticipating these moments.

Dinner ended just after ten. announced she was heading upstairs for a bath, leaving me alone in the dining room gathering enough courage to move without embarrassing herself. Simon remained seated, watching her.

“Are you frightened of me?” he asked suddenly.

I looked up sharply. “What?”

“You avoid me constantly.”

“I've just been busy.” I said casually.

“That's not an answer.”

I set my wine glass down harder than intended. “Maybe I just don't enjoy being analyzed every time we speak.”

Simon leaned back slightly in his chair.

“You think too loudly,” he said.

“What does that even mean?” I asked.

“It means your face gives you away.”

Simon's eyes lingered on her face. “Like now,” he added quietly.

I stood up abruptly. “Goodnight.”

“Scarlett.”

My name stopped me instantly. God, I hated how he said it, slowly and possessively. I turned reluctantly. Simon rose from his chair then. He loosened his tie slightly as he walked towards me, and I could feel my pulse hammering painfully beneath her ribs.

“You keep running from me,” he said softly.

I forced myself to hold my gaze. “Maybe because you keep saying inappropriate things.”

“Inappropriate?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Simon stopped directly in front of me, close enough that I could feel warmth radiating from him.

“You're an adult, Scarlett.”

The words sent a strange shiver through me.

“And?”

“And I think you enjoy this tension as much as I do.”

I shook my head quickly. “This is wrong.”

“Yes.” The immediate agreement startled me. Simon's jaw tightened slightly.

“But you still think about me.”

The silence that followed was devastating because he was right. Random quiet moments where her mind betrayed her with filthy thoughts she shouldn't be having about the man who married her mother. I looked away first.

“I hate you,” I whispered.

Simon stepped even closer. “You don't hate me.”

My heart was thudding violently in my chest. “You barely know me.”

“I know enough.” His voice lowered dangerously. “I know the way you look at me when you think no one notices.”

My stomach twisted violently. Simon lifted one hand slowly, giving her enough time to stop him but I didn't.

His fingers brushed lightly against her jaw, the touch felt electric. I inhaled sharply as his thumb traced softly along the edge of her chin.

“Simon…” I whispered. His eyes darkened at the sound of his name in her mouth.

“You should tell me to stop,” he murmured.

I should, instead my body betrayed me completely, leaning ever so slightly into his touch. Simon noticed immediately, a dangerous look crossed his face like the last thread of his control was snapping. Then suddenly he stepped away.

I blinked in shock. Simon dragged his hand through his hair roughly before turning toward the window.

“Go upstairs.”

The command in his voice startled me.

“What?”

“Now.”

I frowned. “You don't get to order me around.”

Simon laughed softly but there was nothing amusing about it.

“You have no idea how difficult I'm trying to be right now.”

The confession hit me like a slap. My breath became shaky. Simon kept his back turned toward me.

“Go upstairs before I forget every reason this is a bad idea.”

The room fell completely silent. I stared at him, and for one reckless second I wanted to stay. I wanted to walk back toward him instead of away, wanting to see what would happen if neither of them stopped pretending anymore.

The realization terrified me enough to finally move.

I turned quickly and left the dining room before myself control disappeared completely.

Halfway up the staircase…

“Scarlett.”

I froze again. Simon still stood near the window downstairs, one hand in his pocket, his expression unreadable beneath the dim lighting. Then he said the one thing guaranteed to ruin her entire night.

“Wear that dress again.”

My entire body felt hot instantly and Simon watched her reaction with dark satisfaction before walking away.