In Bed With My Stepson

Kiara's Pov

I turned twenty three today.

And in eight hours...

I'll be married to a sixty five year old man.

I ignored the loud music in the background and

ran over the events of this morning in my head, hoping I could go back in time.

Maybe then I could've done things differently.

[TEN HOURS EARLIER]

I tried to swallow, but I couldn't.

Every part of my body was unpleasantly sore.

"Shit.."

I winced at every turn of my body and every move of my limbs. I walked over to the mirror and I winced at my own reflection. I had a black eye, a bruise on my cheek, arms, legs and back.... My body had a strong reminder of the beatings from last night

By most standards,I was beautiful. Blonde hair with dark roots, grey-blue eyes, and my body was what men liked to call 'thick’, even if it wasn't my favourite feature.

But right now, I wished I had tanned skin. Maybe then the bruises wouldn't be so hard to hide. But hiding bruises was a skill I had mastered over the years.

I picked up my concealer and did my magic. A few minutes later, you wouldn't be able to tell what was hiding underneath and besides, they always healed.

The minute I put the brush down , there was a knock at my door, and I smiled, like it was muscle memory.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, happy birthday to you.”

The minute I heard that, I practically ran to the door and the minute I opened it,I was met with two stalks of roses and a sweet smile on Hope's face.

"Happy birthday, Kiara." Hope said, smiling like she couldn't help it . I came down to her level, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

"Thank you," I said, taking the flowers from her. "You're the best little sister ever…" I was cut off by a loud bang

Oh God, no.

I pulled Hope into my room, hoping to shield her from whatever was about to go down.

"Kiara!" my dad shouted. He was downstairs, but still goosebumps peppered my skin.

"Remember what I told you about hiding?" I whispered to Hope, doing my absolute best to keep my voice calm and soothing, trying not to frighten her with my own fear.

"I should stay till you come back," she said, her tone so trusting and calm, a stark contrast to the chaos brewing just outside the door.

I nodded slowly as she quietly walked over to my wardrobe, sat inside it, and closed the door.

Then I took a deep breath and headed downstairs, where my own nightmare was waiting for me.

"Hi, Dad," I said, keeping my voice as low as possible.

He shot me a glare that could freeze hell over, the usual aggressive energy radiating off him.I would be surprised but this was our routine.

He always got angry about the littlest things, the way I walk, the way I breathe, if I was too happy or too sad.

"Pack your bags... You're leaving tomorrow," he said as bluntly as we were discussing the weather

"L… leaving where?" I stammered. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears.

"You're getting married tomorrow."

His words hit me like a freight train, and I felt the air abruptly leave my lungs.

What?

"You're getting married, and you'll be leaving with them. They'll come to get you tomorrow, so better be ready," he continued, his tone still nonchalant.

I stood there dumbfounded, staring at him, waiting for a punchline that never came. Surely this had to be some twisted joke, but my dad's stony expression told me otherwise.

"You can't do that..."

I started as he slid into a chair, his movements calm and unnerving, as he began arranging a line of something on the table. Coke, maybe.

"I'm not getting married to some stranger..." I started, but before I could finish my sentence, he froze.

Oh no.

He looked up at me with an expression I was so used to by now. He got up and started walking toward me, and I braced myself for it.

His hand came down hard against my cheek.

Once, then twice.

A strong metallic taste filled my mouth. Before I could recover from that, he grabbed my hair, forcing me to focus on him.

"Now... listen. Being married to Don Carlo is the best offer I'll ever get. The old man just wants something young and flirty in his bed," he growled in my ear. "If you don't go... they can bloody well have Hope."

He shoved me away, and I stumbled slightly before I regained my balance. I tried to ignore the sharp sting pulsing in my head as a million thoughts raced through it.

Don Carlo... I only met him once last week because my father works for him. He seemed charming at first, but I quickly noticed his gaze was on my breasts the entire time. Not once did he look me in the eyes.

I shivered as I felt his gaze on me even now, disgusting me to my very core.

What terrified me the most were the stories I'd heard.

He had been married three times before, and all of his wives had met suspiciously tragic ends.

And now my father was trying to hand me over like I was some kind of prize, and if I refuse he'll hand over Hope, and she's just four.

"You can't do that to her," I whispered as my vision blurred out.

Who was I kidding, though? He would.

Running away would be dumb.

We're barely getting by as it is.

Though I did have some savings, he found out about it last week. He took everything after beating me up. I thought about running without the money, but that would just put Hope in harm's way.

We wouldn't even have a place to stay. If I take off, we'd really be left with nothing.

But one thing I know about my dad is that he's willing to do anything for a quick buck, even if it means selling my baby sister, and I can never let that happen to her.

"Yeah, I'll leave tomorrow," I said loud enough for him to hear. "But I have one condition. Hope comes with me."

He looked at me like he wanted to disagree or something.

He didn't, though.

That was it.

My father had used me as an exchange to a slimy old man who I would be calling my husband from tomorrow.

The very man who used to call me princess. He changed after Mum died. I thought he was still grieving. Some part of me thought we would go back to how things used to be, but it's been four years.

And now he was trading me off to someone even worse.

~~~~~~

PRESENT TIME

"You can't still be pouting over this," Maya chimed in, snapping me back to reality amidst the loud music.

"Come on, we've got a solid plan! He's loaded, and if he can buy girls, he might just pick up another one," she continued, definitely not the quiet, reserved type of best friend.

"So, what am I supposed to do while I figure out my game plan?" I asked.

"Be a good wife, obviously. But first..." She trailed off with a mischievous hum.

"What are you up to?" I asked, raising a brow.

"You can't be a 23-year-old virgin, and there's no way you should be hooking up with a guy who's ten years older than your dad," she shot back with a cheeky grin. "It's time to have sex ... Happy birthday, bestie!”