The Move

SCARLETT

The drive down was quiet. Hell, the mansion itself looked quiet. The black iron gates slid open slowly as the car rolled forward, revealing a long driveway and a massive estate.

Beside me, mum adjusted her pearl earrings nervously before smoothing invisible wrinkles from the dress.

“Darling, try to look happy when we go inside,” mum whispered.

I almost laughed at her comment. Happy? She had just gotten engaged to Simon Laurent and sold our old house without asking me what I thought about it, dragged me across the city into this giant mausoleum pretending it was some glamorous new beginning. Happy was the last thing I felt.

The car stopped beneath the mansion's towering entrance. A uniformed driver stepped out immediately to open the door but I remained seated for a second longer, staring up at what was supposed to be my new home.

“Scarlett?” mum hissed.

“I'm coming,” I muttered before stepping out of the car. The front doors opened before we could even reach them and there he was, Simon Laurent.

This time, I had a good look at him. Pictures had not done him justice. He stood at the top of the marble stairs inside the foyer, one hand resting casually in his pocket as if he owned not just the mansion, but the entire world. He was tall, fair skinned, broad shoulders. Dark tailored suit, silver watch gleaming beneath the soft light. Power clung to him naturally.

Memories flashed through my head, the late nights alone in bed, watching interviews of him, enjoying the rough sound of his voice and touching myself. The humiliating, filthy dreams I had buried and ignored once my mother announced their engagement. He was basically my mother's new husband and my stepfather now.

The thought alone made me feel sick. Yet Simon kept looking at me in a way that made me want to throw all my values away.

“Welcome home,” he said smoothly.

His voice was deep enough to get me wet.

Mum beamed instantly. “The house looks beautiful, Simon.”

“It's our home now,” Simon said, his gaze fixed on me while he drew my mother into a hug. I forced myself to break eye contact first. Some uniformed workers appeared silently and took our luggage.

As mum got inside the mansion, Simon descended down the stairs slowly. As he got closer, the expensive scent of his cologne filled all my senses. There was something about the confidence in his movements that made me want to grab and just kiss him. He stopped directly in front of me.

“Scarlett,” he said. Just my name, but something about the way he said it made my insides tingle.

“Mr Laurent.” I swallowed hard.

One corner of his mouth tilted slightly. “Simon is fine.”

***

That night during dinner, everything felt unbearable. The dining room looked like something from the luxury hotel, all dark wood and gold candlelight stretching across a table long enough to seat twenty people.

I sat stiffly in my chair, the food was good but I got tired heading mom yap on and on about wedding details and honeymoon plans. Simon barely spoke but I could feel his attention constantly. Every time I glanced up, our eyes met instantly. I would switch to look at my mom, but of course she wasn't looking to see a thing.

“So,” Mum said brightly, sipping wine. “Scarlett mentioned she's thinking about going to Fashion school next semester.”

“That sounds pretty interesting. Why fashion?” Simon asked.

I cleared my throat. “It has been my passion since I was little, I always liked to play dress up and pretend my mum was the judge.” I said, smiling widely.

Simon didn't return the smile, his face just had a little trace of amusement. Why did he look so tough? And why did I seem to like that about him?

“So you're more interested in modelling? Have you actually modeled before?” He asked sharply.

“No,” I answered truthfully. “I had applied to a few places and never actually been given a chance because I had no connections.”

Simon hummed softly then brushed his eyebrows with hands. “I have a friend, I can pull a few strings and get you in to start by fall.”

“I would appreciate that, thank you.” I said beaming and held onto my mother's hand, whose face had that look of ‘I told you so’.

I have to admit, Simon actually isn't a bad person.

The rest of the dinner went by quickly in silence. I felt exhausted from doing absolutely nothing.

“I'll show you to your room,” Simon said suddenly.

Mom just nodded approvingly and went ahead to her room. I forced myself up and followed Simon up the stairs, keeping a careful distance between us.

“You can stop glaring at my back,” Simon said calmly.

I was visibly taken aback. “I wasn't glaring.”

He stopped outside a large door and turned to me fully. Up close, he looked so intimidating but sexy.

“What?” I asked.

His expression remained unreadable. “You dislike me already.”

“I don't dislike you.” I said faintly.

“Because I'm marrying your mother?” He asked.

“Because she barely knows you! I barely know you!” I snapped.

“A year is enough time to know if you love someone, and you don't have to know me, you're not the one I'm getting married to.”

“Wow, I'm supposed to be your step daughter,” I scoffed.

“I don't particularly care what you think about me.”

Normally, that statement should've annoyed me, instead I felt impressed. He didn't try to act soft with me the way older men usually were around younger women. He spoke to me like an equal.

I noticed as his eyes flickered downward briefly, to her bare legs beneath her oversized sweater and judging by the way his jaw tightened afterward, he noticed too.

The air between us changed instantly, the horrible tension I had been trying desperately to ignore since I stepped into the mansion.

Simon opened the bedroom door beside him. “Your room.”

I walked inside quickly, grateful for the distance. The room was enormous, dark modern furniture, a fireplace crackling softly across from a king sized bed. Glass walls overlooking the rain soaked forest behind the estate.

“It’s too much,” I murmured.

Simon leaned casually against the doorway. “You’ll get used to it.”

I turned toward him. He looked unfairly good standing there in the low lighting, tie loosened slightly now, sleeves rolled just enough to expose strong forearms.

My imagination betrayed her instantly. I imagined those hands gripping her waist, deep voice against her ear.

I looked away sharply, disgusted with myself.

“Something wrong?” Simon asked quietly.

“No.” I replied sharply.

“But you seem uncomfortable.”

I forced a dry laugh. “I’m just trying to process the fact that my mother married a man old enough to ruin lives for a living.”

Simon’s expression didn’t change. “And have I ruined yours yet?”

I could feel the right knot in my stomach. Christ! I should say something, leave, move, anything!

Simon stepped away from the doorway first.

“Get some rest Scarlett.”

His voice sounded rougher now, before she could respond, he walked away down the hallway. I stared after him long after he disappeared then shut the bedroom door quickly and leaned against it, pressing my trembling fingers to my lips.

My entire body felt overheated, humiates and confused at the same time because deep down beneath all the guilt and shock, a terrible part of me had noticed something impossible.

Simon Laurent wanted me too.