CONTENTS
My Roommate’s Dad
NEWSLETTER
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
NEWSLETTER
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS
BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS
LAIRDS & LADIES
RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD
IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS
Collaborations
About the Author
MY ROOMMATE’S DAD
AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE
_______________________
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 224
FLORA FERRARI
Copyright © 2020 by Flora Ferrari
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.
MY ROOMMATE’S DAD
Candy
I’m twenty years old and still a virgin, and I’ve never even had so much as a boyfriend.
Which is why despite not being a party person my roommate drags me out to an art exhibit at her dad’s art gallery.
This was only supposed to be a little escape but then I meet him.
The tall, dark, and handsome older man who saves me from two jerks. But does he really want me or is he just like every other boy out to make fun of the curvy girl.
Could this handsome older man want a curvy girl like me?
And what if he’s not a stranger?
Finn
While I love my job, networking quickly gets old and stale when you have to talk to the same few people at every event until I set eyes on her.
Her body is voluptuous, heavenly in its curves, like an angel from an old painting.
I can’t help but stare at her. I can’t remember ever being so utterly distracted by a woman before. She’s beautiful, from head to toe, and so completely different from the other women.
I need to have her.
I’ve waited twenty years for a woman who would be the one I need.
And it looks as though I may have found her.
There’s just one hiccup. She’s my daughter’s roommate, her best friend, and she’s half my age.
But I won’t let that derail me.
It has to be her. I’ve waited so long for someone to come into my life, and now that I have her, I’m not letting her go.
Not the perfect woman for me. It has to be Candy.
*My Roommate’s Dad is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.
NEWSLETTER
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CHAPTER ONE
Candy
I look around at the crowded art gallery and sigh. Before I can even attempt to say what’s on my mind, Alex interrupts me.
“Oh, come on, Can-Can,” she says, pre-empting my complaint. “It’s just one night. Stop worrying about the morning and enjoy it.”
I nod, though I can’t say that my heart is really in it. I am worried about the morning, and I can’t help it. We’ve got a lecture early on with the kind of professor who locks the door at the exact starting time of the class – and then refuses to let you pass if you missed more than one class – so it feels like the wrong time to be attending an evening party.
Alex is my college roommate, and despite the fact that we’re taking the same class she doesn’t seem at all worried about getting on the wrong side of Professor Clarke. She insisted on dragging me along to this exhibition launch party at her Dad’s gallery, and I don’t really know why I agreed to it – except that maybe I must have been sleep deprived when she asked me.
“Oh, look,” Alex says, pointing ahead at a lewd painting that depicts a nude female model doing something… very X-rated. “Tits.”
I shake my head at her as she grabs my hand and pulls me over, ignoring my blushes. “It’s so juvenile,” I say, trying to pull my hand free.
Alex laughs. “What’s juvenile about adult content?” she asks. “You’re only saying that because you’re so prudish.”
“I am not,” I exclaim, feeling my cheeks heat. There’s not a lot I can say to her, truth be told: if she needs proof that I’m not a prude, I don’t have much to offer. I’m twenty years old and still a virgin, and I’ve never even had so much as a boyfriend. I guess I’ve spent a lot of my time focusing on my schoolwork and not a lot of time getting out there to date.
But the way I look probably has something to do with it, too. I glance around the other women here, and I know I stand out. Most of them are tall and willowy, wearing skin-tight or barely-there dresses that show the lean lines of their bodies. Their long, shapely legs lead to flat stomachs and pert chests, more like models than art buyers. Actually, I realize, most of them probably are models, come here to meet artists.
And then there’s me. Big and curvy from head to toe, currently wrapped in a white dress that covers my arms and skims only an inch above the floor, covering me up entirely. I must look like a walking house to most of them. I bite my lip and sigh, trying to focus on the art instead of comparing myself. It’s not that I hate my body, but when I’m around women like this, I definitely feel… inadequate.
“Why don’t you get some snacks?” Alex says, nodding towards a small table that’s been set up with refreshments for the party. I’m sure she didn’t mean it in a bad way, but from the way it lined up with what I was thinking, it just sends me deeper into a spiral.
“No, I’m okay,” I say, turning my head away from it resolutely. Maybe I can go the night without food and lose a little weight along the way. “I’ll keep looking at the art with you.”
“Alright,” Alex says, then winks. “But I’m going to go check out the food anyway.”
I stifle a groan. I should have known I was looking too much into it. Alex just wanted someone to go for the snacks first so she wouldn’t feel bad about stuffing her face too. I’m too in my head tonight.
We move towards the refreshments, but before we manage to get there, an older woman calls out to Alex by name.
Spinning around to mouth an apology to me, and to gesture me towards the snacks alone, Alex peels off, greeting her with an exuberant friendliness. The woman must be one of Alex’s father’s clients, I figure, so I trail away on my own, finding myself right where I vowed only moments before that I wouldn’t be.
Oh well, I think, reaching for a cocktail stick stacked with different types of cheese, olives, and some kind of artisan ham. There are worse places to find yourself on a weekday evening. At least the food is free.
I people-watch as I graze the refreshments, working my way down the table to try a little piece of everything. Across the room I see a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark suit, my gaze falling on him curiously. He has such an impressive figure, even from behind – he reminds me of a fitness model, only bundle into a suit which is impeccably cut to hug his shoulders and biceps, smoothing down over his waist, then falling from his hips in such a way that you can’t help but notice how muscular his legs are, too.
He turns mid-conversation with someone, gesturing to a painting on the far side of the room, and I feel my breath catch in my throat. He’s gorgeous – like a movie star. A chiseled jaw and rugged features, dark hair still full and swept back from his eyes despite the fact that I can see he’s much older than I am. It hangs down to the length of his chin, tucked behind his ears in a cut that makes him look even less like a real person – more like a model or a character from some epic film.
If I was braver – probably, if I was Alex – I would go over there and introduce myself. But, what’s the point? Look at all of these women around here… and then look at me. There’s no way a man like him, who could have anyone he wants, would ever go for someone like me.
Besides, he’s so good looking, he might be gay. Or a player. And I don’t want anything like that – a quick fling that ends with me being dumped for the next woman. I want a real relationship. That’s all I’ve always wanted. The boys who have tried to ask me out from time to time have all been looking to use me, and I’ve never fallen for it – I hope I never will. I don’t see the point in that kind of brief relationship, or even just sex when you know you don’t want to spend the rest of your life with that person.
When I fall, I’m going to fall hard. With a man like that, I could see it happening so easily.
Which is why it’s a shame someone like that would never look at me.
I sigh and reach for a tiny beef slider, and watch him discreetly from across the room, hoping I won’t get caught staring.
CHAPTER TWO
Finn
I laugh and step away from the client who has been demanding my attention for the last ten minutes, taking the first possible excuse to get out of there. While I love my job, networking quickly gets old and stale when you have to talk to the same few people at every event – and especially when some of those aren’t even really in a position to make the kind of big deals you need to close.
I grab a glass of champagne from a passing tray and take a sip, trying to relax. I haven’t even had a moment to really enjoy the art yet, and I should – it’s a great exhibition. I take a moment to breathe in the atmosphere, to see how many people have turned out to fill the space, and the paintings and sculptures littered in-between them.
My gaze moves over to the refreshments table, piled high with delicacies put on by a very expensive caterer, where a few guests are nibbling away. I latch onto her immediately, a young woman all in white, a dress that covers her form modestly, unlike the rest of the skin-flashers around here. Her body is voluptuous, heavenly in its curves, like an angel from an old painting.
I can’t help but stare at her, my champagne flute hovering just below my mouth where I was just about to take a sip. I can’t remember ever being so utterly distracted by a woman before. She’s beautiful, from head to toe, and so completely different from the other women here. I need to go over and talk to her. I need to know her name.
“Oh, Finn,” someone says at my elbow, making me curse and force myself to turn and face them with a smile.
“Having a good evening, Margot?” I ask. Just as I suspected from the voice it’s one of the models who hangs around these events, trying to get themselves an artistic husband who will help to further their career. Unfortunately, a lot of them seem to think that I might be the right candidate for that position. Still, I have to be polite.
“It’s wonderful, darling,” she says, sashaying closer to me and laying her hand on my forearm. She’s also clutching a champagne flute, and by the slight flush in her cheeks, I think she might have had a few too many already. “So wonderful. You’re so very clever, finding all of these artists.”
I shake my head impatiently. “Really, it’s nothing. It’s my job, after all.”
“Nonsense, don’t sell yourself short,” Margot croons, pushing herself closer to me. Her breasts, almost completely visible with the sharp plunge of her green, glittery dress, seem to be almost thrust in my direction. I look away with distaste. “I think you’re extremely talented.”
“Thanks,” I say, shortly, looking back across to the table. That girl – she’s still there. I still have time to make my way over to her. I start to turn, but Margot’s hand tightens on my arm like a vice and pulls me back.
“I’d like to show you some of my appreciation,” Margot says. “What do you think? Wouldn’t you like to take me out for a drink after this?”
“I think you’ve had enough already,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “Besides, I’ll be busy here until late.”
“Well, tomorrow, then,” Margot says. “Dinner. You can take me somewhere fancy. Yes?”
I want to roll my eyes and shove her away into the crowd, but a little decorum is called for here. After all, many of my clients – and potential clients – are here tonight. I don’t want to cause a scene.
So, I take a deep breath and go about trying to extricate myself from her and let her know that there’s no way on this earth it’s ever going to happen, keeping an eye on my angel in white so she doesn’t leave before I have the chance to introduce myself.
CHAPTER THREE
Candy
I’m trying to mind my own business – and not feel too disappointed at the string of gorgeous women who seem to keep throwing themselves at the handsome, dark-suited stranger. That’s all. Just snacking and observing the room. But just because I want to keep to myself, apparently doesn’t mean that everyone is going to let me.
I look up at the approach of a couple of men from the right-hand side of the room, coming towards me on such a direct line that it feels like it must be deliberate. But why would someone be coming to talk to me? I don’t know anyone here except for Alex.
“Hey,” one of them says, grabbing a loose olive and tossing it into his mouth.
Oh, wow. They are actually talking to me. It’s so unexpected that for a moment I’m totally flustered, not doing anything but staring back.
“What’s your name?” the other one asks, apparently emboldened by his friend making the first move.
“Uh… C-Candy,” I say, taken aback. What is this? Are they trying to hit on me, or something? I have no idea how I’m supposed to react right now.
“Candy,” one of them grins, and the other laughs. “That’s a… sweet name.”
They elbow each other and guffaw a little. I glance around, feeling uncomfortable. A couple of people nearby turn to look at the source of the laughter and then turn away again, but no one says a thing.
“Um, right,” I say, gesturing towards the back of the room and making to step away. “Well, I was just…”
“Aw, you’re not going anywhere, are you?” the first one whines. “We just got here.”
“Yeah, and we’re super hungry,” the other one grins.
I look at the table full of food – practically overflowing. “Well, help yourself.”
“Nah, we don’t want that,” the first one says. “We want ourselves something sweet. We wanna eat some candy.”
“What?” I say. I t
ry to make a move forward again, but the two of them have stepped in closer to me, and behind me is the table. I can’t go anywhere.
“There’s more than enough of you to go around, isn’t there?” the second man says. He’s more like a boy, really – probably around the same age as me. The two of them look like they’re too immature to be here, dressed in loose blazers with popped collars. Like they come from money, enough money that they’ve never had to learn manners.
“Yeah, looks like you make a habit of eating your way through these tables, doesn’t it?” the first one says, reaching out and pinching my waist through my dress. I yelp and jump back, feeling my ass bump into the table behind me.
“Don’t touch me,” I snap, feeling heat rising in my cheeks and behind my eyes. I’m not going to cry, I tell myself. I’m not going to give them the satisfaction.
“Oh, don’t worry,” the first one says. He rubs the side of his thumb across his lower lip as if he thinks it’s a seductive move. “We don’t mind. We’ll show you a good time. You’re going to love it. Come with us back to our hotel – we share our candy, and we’re not fussy. We won’t ignore you like everyone else.”
I think I am about to cry. I have my hands up in front of me as if I can protect myself from them, and I have no intention of going anywhere with them – but this is so embarrassing, and they’re acting like they’re not going to leave me alone.
“Hey.”
A strong hand clamps down on the shoulders of both boys at once and drags them backward, creating a space in front of me so that I have room to breathe again. I look up and the breath catches in my throat again – because it’s him. The man I’ve been watching from across the room – and he’s frowning down at the two boys, holding them firmly in place.
“What? Get off me!” one of them says, trying to shrug out of his hand. He holds tightly without moving, not even seeming to notice.
“Where these idiots bothering you?” he asks me, turning his eyes to meet mine.
For a moment I feel absolutely frozen. He’s so gorgeous – I feel like I could fall into his deep, dark eyes and drown. But I have to get myself together. Between the fear from a moment ago, the embarrassment, and now the way he has my heart pounding just by looking at me, I feel like I’m coming apart. “Yes,” I manage to say at last, after what feels like a stupidly long pause.
My Roommate's Dad: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance Page 1