Possessive Daddy: A Dark Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  8

  Sydney

  I have to do something to distract me from my stepfather.

  That’s a pretty messed up thought, but it’s the truth. I can’t keep just trying to ignore what’s going on and pretend like it’s not really happening. Connor is here to stay, or at least it looks that way. He’s going to be in my house, every single day, living very close to me.

  I don’t know what I’m going to do longterm. I still haven’t heard back from the jobs I’ve applied to, and I’m running out of ideas.

  The day after I ran into Connor in the hallway and nearly let him tear my robe off me, I decide to get off my ass and try to get out there again. There’s a girl I used to be friendly with back in school named Macy, and although I haven’t seen her in a while, she is back home right now. On a whim and a little desperate to distract myself from Connor, I call and invite her over.

  Macy shows up around noon that Sunday. She’s shorter than me, barely five feet tall, and she’s extremely bubbly. She’s dirty blonde and thin with wide eyes and a big personality. We always got along really well, but we were mostly connected by other people and never really good friends ourselves.

  “I’m SO glad you invited me over!” she says as we head out back to the pool. “It’s been what, like, forever?”

  I smile. “Yeah, it really has.”

  “How’s Stacey doing?”

  “She’s good,” I say. “Not home, though.”

  “Oh, I know. I mean, I’ve been keeping in touch with her a little bit, like, online.”

  “Good,” I say, smiling. “She always liked you.”

  “Obviously.” She gives me a big smile.

  I’m feeling pretty good as we lie down next to the pool and chat about our lives. Macy went away to school but apparently isn’t super happy there, which is why she’s home for the summer. She had a boyfriend, but that ended badly, and I get to hear the whole story in agonizing detail. She talks a lot, but she’s really nice, so I’m happy to enjoy the sun and listen to her.

  “So anyway, wow, I’ve been going on and on,” she says finally after describing exactly how she punched her ex in the nose after she caught him drunkenly fucking some other girl in her bed. “What are you up to?”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “Not much,” I admit. “What can I say that could possibly follow that story?”

  “Oh, good point,” she says, grinning and nodding. “I really do set a high bar.”

  I laugh again and stretch. “I didn’t go to school, you know,” I say.

  “I heard. You going to go this year?”

  “Maybe,” I say. “I don’t know. Harvard deferred my acceptance, which, they basically never do.”

  “That crazy lucky.”

  I frown a little. “I think my grandfather probably bribed them. It’s part of why I don’t want to go.”

  She looks at me for a second then nods slightly, looking out over the pool. “I know what you mean. We’re pretty lucky.”

  “Yeah. Too lucky, maybe.”

  “So, what? You’re just hanging around?”

  “Finding myself,” I say, grinning at her.

  She laughs. “Awesome. I want to find myself, too.”

  “Luckily, you’re doing it right now.”

  We both laugh together. She starts telling another story about a friend of hers from school, some hippie girl named Baya, tried to grow weed in her dorm’s bathroom. I listen and nod, happy to let her take over again.

  I feel a little pathetic. This girl is out living her life, doing what she wants to do, although for a second there it seemed like she understood how I felt. We live in a rich neighborhood and most of the kids here have rich parents. We’re all given everything we want and never had to work for a thing. I kind of hate it, to be honest. I don’t want to be some spoiled rich girl like a lot of the girls from my school.

  I want to earn my own life and build my own world. I think my mother understands, which is why she’s not forcing me to go to school. My grandfather doesn’t get it, but he means really well. He just wants the best for me, and I can’t fault him for that. I feel ungrateful, but I just want to try and be my own person and not become like everyone else in my family.

  Maybe even that’s a privilege of my family. If I weren’t part of a wealthy family, I wouldn’t get to lie around the pool trying to “find myself” or whatever it is I’m doing.

  We lapse into a comfortable silence and I can’t help but smile to myself. I’m glad I invited Macy over. We were never really close back in the day, but maybe we can become better friends now. I definitely need a friend considering where my life is headed right now. I feel totally stuck, but having someone to spend time with might help knock me out of my funk.

  Almost as if on cue, the back door opens and we both look over at the same time as Connor steps out into the back yard. He hasn’t spotted us yet as he walks over toward the pool. He’s wearing a pair of swim trunks and a tight white t-shirt with a towel thrown over his shoulder. He gets up to the pool and tosses his towel on the ground then pulls off his shirt.

  “Whoa,” Macy says.

  Connor looks up, surprised. He grins when he spots the two of us lying there, staring at him.

  “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t see you two out here.” He shades his eyes from the sun. “Damn bright out here.”

  “That’s okay,” I say. “We’re just sitting here.”

  He walks over, and I can’t help but stare at his body. I grab my sunglasses and slip them over my eyes to try and hide it, but Macy doesn’t even bother to pretend. I glance at her and she’s practically drooling over Connor.

  “Hey there,” he says to her. “I’m Connor,”

  “He’s my mom’s new husband,” I say.

  “Nice to meet you,” she says.

  “This is Macy,” I say to Connor. “She’s a friend from school.”

  “What are you two up to today?” he asks, crossing his arms over his muscular chest. His eyes roam my body quickly and I know he’s checking me out in my bikini. I don’t mind, in fact, it makes my heart beat faster. For a second, I forget that Macy is sitting there.

  “Just hanging out,” Macy says. “Were you about to go for a dip?”

  “I was,” he confirms. “But I won’t bother you two.”

  “It’s no bother,” Macy says. “We wouldn’t mind. Right, Syd?”

  I shake my head. “We were having a peaceful afternoon,” I say.

  He smirks at me. “And I’m sure my splashing around would ruin that calm.”

  “Sure would,” I confirm.

  “I’m actually very graceful in the water,” he says.

  “I doubt it.” I keep my face calm. “All that muscle might get in the way.”

  He laughs at me. “I was a SEAL. We were an amphibious unit, you know.”

  “You were a SEAL?” Macy asks.

  He doesn’t even look at her. “Once upon a time,” he answers, eyes still on me. “You know, Syd, you’re always sitting out here. But I never see you in the water. Can you swim?”

  I make a face. “Of course I can.”

  “Prove it,” he says. “Swim some laps with me.”

  I turn my head away. “I don’t feel like it.”

  “I can swim,” Macy says.

  He shrugs. “You sure you don’t want to?” he asks, eyes still on me.

  “Positive.”

  “Your loss.” He grins then nods at Macy. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Same,” she says, sounding like a little girl.

  He walks away and grabs his shirt and towel before heading back inside.

  “Holy shit,” Macy says, laughing. “Are you kidding me?”

  “What?” I ask her.

  “That’s your stepfather?”

  I frown. “I guess. He’s new.”

  “That’s so messed up.” She laughs, shaking her head.

  “What’s messed up?”

  “Syd, he’s so clearly into you.”

&n
bsp; “What?” I sit up straight, pretending to be surprised. “No way. He’s married to my mom.”

  “And like, what, ten years older than you? But that doesn’t seem to matter to him.”

  “Cut it out,” I say, shaking my head, though I know she’s totally right.

  “You saw how he was looking at you. He didn’t even notice me, like I was invisible.”

  “That’s not true.” What she’s saying is right, but it makes me uncomfortable anyway.

  “I’m just saying. He’s really, really hot. Could be worse.”

  “He’s married to my mom,” I say again. “And ten years older, like you pointed out.”

  She shrugs and leans back in her chair. “I guess so. Personally, I think that just makes it hotter.”

  I frown and then lean back and shut my eyes, ending the conversation.

  That whole exchange makes me very, very worried for a few reasons. Mainly, I’m worried that if Macy can see that Connor is into me so obviously and quickly, there’s no way my mom won’t notice. That’s what really scares me. I don’t want to be some awful daughter that hurts her mom and breaks up a marriage.

  But she didn’t seem to think it’s a bad thing, which both freaks me out and excites me. The truth is, I want someone to tell me it’s okay to go after Connor. Or at least it’s okay to let him come after me. I know it isn’t, it really, really isn’t, but I want it pretty badly anyway.

  The way he looks at me, the smirk on his face, everything about him drives me totally wild. My heart is pounding and I’m dripping wet just sitting there thinking about him, and Macy seems to understand. Maybe it isn’t so horrible, feeling like this.

  I’m never going to act on it. I know I can’t. I’ll never betray my mother that badly, even if I want to. I can’t control if he comes up to me and wants to flirt, but I don’t have to be the one seeking him out. I have to have more control over myself than that.

  I’m not going to think about Connor for the rest of the day. I’m just going to sit out here with Macy and enjoy myself. I can’t let him get under my skin so easily.

  And yet he’s there, lodged deep down inside, whether I like it or not.

  9

  Connor

  It’s hard to sleep that night, because I keep picturing Sydney in her little red bikini. It’s fucked up, but at least I’m not sleeping in the same bed as her mother. I sneak into the guest room next door late at night and sneak back early the next morning, although it would be easier if we just shared a bed. Julia would be fine with it, but I’m the one that won’t do it.

  I don’t want to get too close to Julia. Not when I want her daughter so badly. Although she doesn’t strike me as the type to go past a certain point. She’s a business woman, after all. She can separate business and pleasure, emotions and logic.

  The sun is just barely starting to rise as I slip out of bed and go back into Julia’s room. She’s up already and brushing her teeth as I lean up against the bed, rubbing sleep from my eyes and getting myself ready to face the day.

  As I stand up to go use the bathroom, Julia’s phone starts ringing. It’s not unusual for her to get calls, but it is a little earlier than usual. She comes out of the bathroom, a slight frown on her face, before answering.

  “Hello?” she says. I go to walk past her, but the look on her face draws me up short.

  “I don’t know who this is, but you’re making a mistake,” she says. She’s pale, ghostly pale, and she looks like she’s staring at a ghost.

  She looks fucking terrified.

  “Julia?” I ask.

  She doesn’t even look at me.

  “Don’t call me again or I’ll call the police,” she says softly and then hangs up the phone.

  She looks shaken. I step toward her. “What was that?” I ask.

  She glances at me and sighs. “Nothing,” she says.

  “Nothing?” I flinch my jaw. “Don’t be that way. Tell me.”

  She sits down at the edge of the bed. “I just need to get myself together.”

  I lean against the wall, arms crossed, while she takes a few deep breaths. The color comes back to her cheeks and she sighs, looking at me.

  “Tell me what that was,” I say.

  “A threat,” she answers. “Probably from my brother.”

  “Evan? Did you recognize his voice?”

  “No,” she says. “The voice was disguised.”

  “What did he say?”

  “If I don’t publicly admit that I’m a whore and a liar then someone is going to murder my family in their sleep.” She frowns and looks down at the ground.

  “Jesus, Julia,” I say. “What else?”

  “That’s it.”

  “What number did it call from?”

  “It was private.”

  I shake my head, anger flowing through me. “I’ll look into it,” I say.

  “No,” she says quickly. “Please. Let it go.”

  “What?” I ask, surprised.

  “Just let it go. He’s just trying to scare me.”

  “Julia,” I say. “Someone with a disguised voice and on a private line threatened to murder your family. I have to look into it.”

  “Don’t,” she says. “Please. Just let it go. I just want to move on.”

  I stare at her for a few seconds. She gets herself together and I can practically see her rebuilding all of her usual walls. I know there’s no getting through to her now, although I did see one brief moment of weakness.

  “If that’s what you want,” I say.

  She nods and forces a smile. “Thank you, Connor.”

  I watch her for a second longer then head into the bathroom. I shut the door behind me, start the shower, and start planning how I’m going to investigate this call.

  I know a private guy that can look into figuring out where the call came from. I have another friend in the police department that might be able to help. There are a lot of options I can take.

  This would be a lot easier if Julia helped, but I can’t force her. If she wants to pretend like this isn’t becoming more dangerous than she bargained for, she can do that. But I’m not going to risk her safety or Sydney’s just because she’s afraid of what I might find.

  This is part of my job, part of why she chose me. I protect people in bad positions and I keep them safe. I’m not going to give up on my job just because Julia is afraid. I’ll just have to find an alternate way of doing things.

  I hop into the shower and get to planning.

  After a long day at work and a bunch of phone calls, I have a basic plan together.

  It’s late, around midnight, and I’m exhausted. Sydney is out with her friend Macy, and although I’d rather she didn’t go anywhere for a while, I can’t really stop her. I can’t tell her what’s happening either, since it would just worry her. Instead, I wait up for her while researching methods to trace blocked calls.

  I tense instantly when I hear the front door open. I have my gun slipped into my jeans and I reach for it, ready to respond if I have to. The door shuts and I hear footsteps as the person walks down the hall.

  I relax when Sydney comes into the kitchen. I move my hand from my gun and chide myself internally for being so tense. I knew she was coming home right around this time, and plus, an intruder wouldn’t just walk right in the front door.

  She looks over at me and smiles. “You’re still up,” she says.

  I nod and hold up my glass of whisky. “Just getting some work done.”

  “Looks hard.” She pours herself a glass of water and joins me in the living room.

  I shrug a little. “Not particularly.”

  “What’s the job tonight?” She nods at my laptop.

  I pause for a second. I’m not sure I should tell her everything. I know her mother doesn’t want me to, and for good reason. I don’t want to spook her, freak her out. Besides, it’s still her uncle that’s being aggressive, and it’s not my place to say anything bad about her family.

  “R
esearching how to trace blocked calls for a client,” I say.

  “Exciting.” She stretches her legs out and I let my eyes trace up the length of her skin. She’s wearing high waisted Daisy Dukes and a blue top, unbuttoned at the top two buttons, showing just the right amount of her breasts. Her thick hair is piled in a messy bun at the top of her head and I want to pull it out, let it spill down over her shoulders.

  “What?” she asks, blushing slightly. I realize that I’ve been staring and look away.

  “Nothing,” I say. “Just lost in thought.”

  “Right.” I glance back and she bites her lip. “Do you work late often?”

  I nod. “Guess so. Hard not to.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I feel a lot of responsibility for the people I protect and help. I know my job should end when I’m not there, but I can’t help it.”

  She nods, looking at me with a curious expression. “You really care.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “I thought security guys were just jocks with guns.”

  I laugh a little. “Some of us are, that’s true. But I try not to be like that.”

  “I can see that. Do you like it?”

  I pause for a second. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I never really considered it.”

  She smiles at me, head cocked. “You never thought about whether you like what you do?”

  “No,” I admit, shrugging. “I’ve just always done it.”

  “Are you happy when you’re working?”

  “Maybe,” I say, thinking. “It’s not exactly happy. But I feel fulfilled. Like I’m doing a good job.”

  “Then you like it,” she says, nodding.

  I grin at her. “And how would you know?”

  “I just know.”

  “Do you find great satisfaction sitting out by the pool?”

  She stares at me with an annoyed expression. “No,” she says. “It’s not exactly what I want to be doing.”

  “What do you want to do, then?”

  She considers me. “I’m not sure yet,” she admits. “But I know I don’t want to go to Harvard just because I can. I want to have direction, purpose. That’s why I know you like what you do, because it gives you purpose. That’s important.”