My Stepfather, My Ruin

11

Dorian

My little stepdaughter was becoming more fascinating by the day.

I’d kept a close watch on her ever since the night I caught her outside that door, watching me with her mother. I hadn’t said a word about it since. I didn’t need to.

Silence did more work than any accusation could. I’d learned that a long time ago, in boardrooms and bedrooms alike. People who think they’re safe from consequences make far more interesting mistakes than people who are afraid.

Move out? No. I wasn’t going to let her walk away from me now. Not after everything it had taken just to get her under this roof.

“Honey?” Clara’s voice broke through my thoughts as she came out of the bathroom, damp hair clinging to her shoulders. “What are you thinking about?”

I turned to look at her. “You.”

“Me?” She stepped closer, pleased, her hands finding my shoulders and sliding down over my chest.

I held still, fighting the urge to step back. Ever since that night, touch from my own wife had become something I had to talk myself through. Every time I looked at her, it was Roxy’s face I saw instead.

“Are you in the mood, darling?” She kissed the side of my neck, her hand moving lower.

I wasn’t. Not even close.

“Dorian...” She pulled back, frowning. “Why aren’t you hard?”

“I’m just tired,” I said, catching her wrist before she could go further. I pressed a kiss to the back of her hand instead.

What kind of man looks at his own stepdaughter the way I look at her?

The thought came to me, and I pushed it away again, the way I’d learned to.

Before she could say anything else, I pulled her into a hug. “I’ve been running myself into the ground at the office, honey. Good thing Evander’s back. Once he takes over the day-to-day, I’ll finally have time to take you on that honeymoon.”

“We’re really still going?” Her face brightened.

“Of course. With him handling things, I’ll have all the time in the world for you.”

I’d never once turned down s*x before this. Now, look what you’ve done to me, Roxy.

I got up early the next morning. If I waited even a few minutes, the girl would be gone for the day before I saw her.

Clara was still half-asleep when I stepped out of the shower and started fixing my collar. She stirred.

“Heading out so early?”

“No.” I checked my reflection in the full-length mirror, working my hair into place.

“Then why are you dressed like that?”

“Wanted to look sharp for you.” I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You don’t like it?”

“I love it.” She touched my cheek. “So handsome in that color.”

“Is that right?” I turned back to the mirror, adjusting my lapels. If Clara noticed, Roxy would too.

Clara slid out of bed and wrapped her arms around my waist from behind. “I’m so lucky I married you, Dorian.”

Staying here any longer meant missing Roxy downstairs entirely.

“Evander’s back,” I said, easing her hands off me. “I need to go over a few things with him before the morning gets away from us. Get dressed and join us when you’re ready.”

“Okay, honey.”

I kissed her once more and left before she could delay me further, keeping my pace measured until I reached the dining hall.

“Good morning, Master,” Mary said, bowing as I took my seat at the head of the table.

“Where’s my daughter?”

“The young miss has already left for school, sir.”

“What?”

The anger came sharp and immediate, and I pushed it down before it showed. My hand closed into a fist beneath the tablecloth.

“Did she eat anything before she left?” My voice dropped low.

“N-no, Master...”

“You’re her personal maid.” I leaned forward. “How does she leave this house on an empty stomach?”

Mary dropped to her knees, trembling. “I begged her, Master, but...”

“What’s all this noise this early?”

Evander walked in, pulling out the chair across from mine. “Morning, Dad.”

I let the anger settle back under the surface. It wasn’t Mary I was furious with. It was myself, for wasting time upstairs when I should have been down here.

“Morning, son.” I waved Mary off. “Get up. Leave us.”

Evander studied me for a long moment, his eyes sharp as he looked for something. Finding nothing, he spoke.

“Roxy’s got you worked up like this? Didn’t peg you for it, Dad.”

“You know how much I care about family.”

“Except she isn’t your daughter.” He leaned back in his chair. “You should be stressing over me, not her.”

“I married her mother. That makes her my daughter. Your sister.”

“My sister.” A short, mocking laugh escaped him. “I’ll never accept someone like her as a sister.”

“What does that mean?” I reached for my wine and took a slow sip. “Tell me straight, Evander. Did you know her casually at university, or was there more to it?”

“Come on, Dad.” His laugh came too fast, too easy. “I wouldn’t stoop that low. You know my taste. Curvy, striking, and Roxy has none of those things.”

She wasn’t, and I knew it too. But something in me didn’t believe a word coming out of his mouth. I watched him the way I watched a man across a negotiating table, every twitch, every flicker, every half-second of hesitation before an answer that came too smoothly to be the truth.

“She is your sister,” I repeated, my tone leaving no room for argument. “And the moment she finishes her degree, I want her at the company. Working under you.”

His palm hit the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery.

“What the hell?” His eyes flashed. “No. Absolutely not.”

“It wasn’t a question.”

“Dad...”

“I’ve made my decision, Evander.” I set my glass down without hurrying and let the silence stretch long enough for him to feel exactly how little his objection mattered to me. “You’ll find a place for her. You’ll make sure she’s comfortable there. And you’ll stop lying to me about whatever it is you’re not telling me before I decide to find out on my own.”

His jaw worked, but nothing came out.

For once, he didn’t have an answer ready.