Paying for Her Clumsiness

Wet For Daddy:

(He Owns the City and now, He wants to Own Her)

Written By

Okeke-Eze Ifeoma Isabella (Omaisabella)

❤️ The Empty Mansion ❤️

Talia didn’t expect the sky to open up so fast as rain fell. One minute she was walking through the rich neighborhood, dragging her small bag along the pavement, the next minute, she was drenched, rain pouring down like the heavens were punishing her for simply existing.

Her tank top was already soaked, clinging to her skin, revealing the curve of her breasts and how pointy her nipples had gotten from the cold. She could feel her panties sticking to her, soaked through completely. She didn’t even own a phone anymore, no money for a ride, no place to sleep. Every step she took in her worn-out sneakers made a soft squish sound.

She paused in front of a large black gate, her heart beating fast. It looked empty. The mansion behind the gate was quiet, all the lights off. She looked around and saw nobody and that not even a dog barked, there were no guards in sight. Maybe she could stay in the back shed or whatever rich people kept in houses like this.

She bit her lip, looked at the camera hanging by the gate as it wasn't showing any red blinking lights. Maybe it was dead, she hoped nobody would notice. She pushed the gate. Her fingers were trembling. Just one night. One warm place. That’s all she needed.

The gate creaked open easily. Too easily.

She slipped inside.

The mansion was huge, cold and silent. The driveway was stone, shining under the rain. Her body shivered as she crept around to the back. There was a kitchen entrance, fancy glass doors and it was locked.

She walked further until she found a side door that looked less secure. It wasn’t even locked. She turned the knob, her breath caught in her throat. The door opened and she stepped inside.

Warmth hit her immediately. It smelled like clean leather, something smoky, and money. The hallway was long and dark. She shut the door behind her quietly, pressed her back to it, her heart racing like it wanted to run ahead without her. It was as if some silent angels were helping her tonight.

“I’ll just find a closet or something,” she whispered to herself.

She moved barefoot now, sneakers left at the door. Her soaked feet padded across the marble floor. She passed big paintings, fancy furniture, and glass tables with nothing on them. She paused in front of a long mirror and barely recognized herself, wet hair, dark eyes, skin flushed. Her tank top was almost see-through now.

She kept going until she saw stairs but stopped and quickly turned to walk away but that’s when the voice came from behind her.

“Should I call the police, or are you going to explain why a wet little trespasser is sneaking around my house like a thief?”

Her heart dropped to her knees. She turned around slowly.

And saw him.

Standing at the top of the stairs in nothing but black lounge pants and a shirt, a glass of dark liquor in one hand, broad shoulders and a tattoo running down one arm.

Dominic Voss.

His eyes moved slowly over her. Taking her in. Soaked tank top. Braless. Tight shorts that left nothing to the imagination. Barefoot. Shivering.

“I asked you a question,” he said, voice low and calm, like he was used to people obeying him.

“I didn’t mean to, I swear, I just needed somewhere to stay. Just for one night. I thought nobody lived here since the gate was open and I didn't see anyone here. I’ll go, I’m sorry,” she said quickly, her voice trembling as much as her hands.

Dominic didn’t speak immediately. He just stood there, his face unreadable, his body still. The ice clinked softly in his glass as he took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving hers.

Talia took a step back, her leg nearly slipping on the marble. She grabbed the wall to steady herself.

“You left your shoes at the door but not your manners, sweetheart,” he said finally. His voice was low but not angry. More amused than anything. “You break into my house, walk around like you own the place, dripping all over my floor, and now you’re shaking like a kitten caught in a storm. What exactly were you expecting, little thief?”

“I wasn’t going to steal anything. I swear. I just…” She bit her lip, hard. “I just didn’t want to sleep outside again.”

Something flickered in his eyes. He moved down the stairs slowly, one step at a time. Talia didn’t move, she just couldn’t. His presence was heavy and dark.

He was tall. Bigger than she expected. And close now. Too close. When he reached the last step, he stopped and looked down at her. She could smell his cologne now, it smells expensive, warm and dangerous.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She swallowed. “Talia.”

“Pretty name.” He took another sip. “And how long have you been walking in the rain, Talia?”

“Since late afternoon.”

“Hmm.”

He walked past her like she was nothing. Talia turned her head, watching him as he set his glass on a glass side table and came back. His eyes roamed over her again, slower this time.

“You’re shivering.”

She nodded, hugging herself. She was cold, wet, and completely aware of how see-through her clothes had become. She didn’t know where to put her arms. Her nipples pressed against the thin fabric. She could feel them. She knew he saw them too.

“Come with me,” he said.

She hesitated.

“I could still call the cops. But something tells me you don’t want that.” He was already walking away, and this time, she followed.

He led her upstairs. The house was too quiet, like it hadn’t seen company in years. Every room they passed looked expensive but untouched and she wondered why. Does he not have a family?

He opened the door and stepped aside. “This is the bathroom. Towels are in the cabinet. There’s soap, shampoo, whatever you need is in there. I’ll get you something to wear.”

She stood there for a second, not sure if she should say thank you or ask if this was a trick.

He raised one eyebrow. “Or you can stand there and freeze to your death. Your choice.”