Being accountable to anyone on this whole planet is off the table and not up for negotiation.
But there’s one person whose life has been so intertwined with mine that it’s impossible not to feel some sort of responsibility toward her. The one person who basically grew up with me and has been there during all the monumental moments of my life.
My moving out of my father’s house. My college years. Law school. Passing the bar. Starting Weaver & Shaw. My father’s death.
And eventually, finally finding her mother.
And that person is now sitting on the chair facing me and Aspen, who’s chosen to cling to the other end of the sofa for dear life.
I was the one in that position two seconds ago—the one she held on to for dear life—but now that she’s no longer naked after she hastily put her clothes back on, I apparently have no role to serve.
Aside from being the subject of my daughter’s glares, of course.
Gwen has the expression of a haughty princess. Minus the foot tapping and the crossing of her arms.
She and Aspen have been red for the past fifteen minutes, which would’ve looked comical under different circumstances.
“In case neither of you noticed, I’m waiting for an explanation,” she says with unveiled stubbornness, going for the jugular.
She’s definitely my and Aspen’s daughter.
Her mother shrinks further into her corner of the sofa. She was over the moon after hearing Gwen talk about her earlier, and in order to keep that awe-filled expression longer, I encouraged the conversation.
Now, however, she’s clearly out of her element.
Stretching my legs in front of me, I meet Gwen’s colorful eyes. “Well, let me inform you that we’re under no obligation to explain anything. Last I checked, I’m the parent.”
“Last I checked, you said you weren’t attracted to her,” the little minx shoots back. “Which is obviously incorrect, judging by the nude show I walked in on. I’m going to guess it’s not work-related.”
“I’m sorry,” Aspen whispers, clearing her throat.
“For what?” Gwen’s voice softens when she talks to her mother, unlike her bratty attitude with me. I might have spoiled her a bit too much.
Aspen meets her gaze for a brief second. “For you having to witness that.”
“Shouldn’t you be more sorry that you guys have a thing and didn’t tell me?”
“It’s not a thing,” Aspen blurts, quick to correct Gwen, and I’m so close to choking the shit out of her while fucking her.
“Then what are you?” my daughter asks.
“Good question. Why don’t you answer it, witch? What are we?”
She gives me an incredulous stare. What? She thought this would be going her way? There’s only one way and she just fucked it all up by denying what we are.
“I hope whatever it is, the name is a relationship,” Gwen says, still tapping her foot. When neither of us answers, she gasps. “Oh my God, you’re friends with benefits?”
“We’re not friends,” I say with a calm I don’t feel.
Aspen’s shoulders snap at that, her spine jerking upright, and she adopts that hot bitch persona that only she can pull off. “Yeah, we’re not.”
“Then it’s just benefits?” Gwen throws her hands in the air. “I can’t believe this. The last time you guys did this, I came out of the union and lived my whole life without a mother. Thanks for being selfish once again and not considering me in whatever sexual arrangement you have.”
Aspen pales.
I glare at Gwen, unblinking. “Watch how you speak to us. We’re the parents, not the other way around.”
“Then act like it and stop messing with my head.” She springs to a standing position and regards Aspen with puppy eyes. “I’m so disappointed in you. I thought we were at a point where you could tell me about these things, but I guess we haven’t made any progress at all.” She jerks her head in my direction. “And I thought there were no secrets between us, Dad.”
“Says the one who married my best friend while I was in a coma.”
“Well, I love Nate. I always have. Do you guys love each other?” When neither of us answers, she gives us a dramatic look and throws her bag over her shoulder. “Call me when you decide what your relationship is and where I fit in it.”
The door nearly snaps from its hinges when she slams it shut behind her.
Now that’s dramatic, unnecessary, and full of Gwen’s over-the-top empathetic tendencies.
Aspen, however, seems to have taken it all too seriously, because she gets up, her legs shaking as if attempting to go after Gwen.
I grab her by the waist, then sit her back down. She glares at me over her shoulder. “I thought we weren’t friends. Let go of me.”
“That’s true. We’re not friends, sweetheart. You’re my fucking woman.”
I swear she blushes like a curious case of tomatoes before she lowers her head and clears her throat. “Gwen must hate us.”
“No, she was just caught up in the heat of the moment. She’ll calm down after she tells Nate all about it and he’s the one who will be argumentative on her behalf. The downside is that he’s way less emotional than her, which is harder to deal with.”
She groans, hiding her face in my chest. “I don’t want to lose her.”
“You won’t. She likes you.”
Her eyes explode in a myriad of colors as she stares up at me. “Really?”
“Yeah. And she’s the forgiving type. No clue where she got that from.”
“Definitely not from you.”
“Or you.”
She smiles, then it soon drops and she attempts to pull away.
“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?”
“Home. I think we’ve caused enough damage for one night.”
“Fuck no. The damage has already been done.” I grab her chin with two fingers and tilt it up. “Besides, you hate being alone on a night like this, right?”
Her breathing shatters, “How can you even think about sex in a situation like this?”
“I think about sex in every situation when it comes to you, so I fail to see where the surprise is in that.”
“Will you ever get enough?”
“Will you?”
She hesitates but doesn’t answer, and I don’t allow her to when I seal my lips to hers and finish what Gwen interrupted.
Contrary to what I expected, Gwen is putting up a fight.
It’s been a week since she walked in on our foreplay, and she’s been playing hard to get with the both of us ever since.
As I did expect, however, Nate was the person she spilled her heart to, and he came over with a metaphorical cape and a cardboard knighthood to act as her representative.
Aspen tried to explain, channeling her inner diplomat. I flat out told him I have nothing to explain to him, of all people, when he had sex with my daughter while I was sleeping.
He called me a motherfucking idiot, Aspen glared at me, and then they attempted to leave together to pick up their logical—also spelled boring—conversation. Which I didn’t allow, of course.
I don’t give a fuck that they’re just friends. Nate is still the only man she’s close to, and at some point, I believed they were fuck buddies.
The only reason I wasn’t sure if they were indeed sexual partners is due to the fact that Nate used to discard the women he slept with as if they were used tissues.
Still, a part of me thought maybe Aspen was special enough that he kept a friendship with her.
That thought left a burning fire in my chest. I’m as self-deprecating as a presidential candidate. The only times I would do it is when it’s fake.
However, I can’t deny the nagging thought that if Aspen had to choose a partner, it would be someone like Nate. Although stoic and detached, he’s as level-headed as she is, wouldn’t force her hand to do anything, and there’s no bickering involved.
Now, don’t get me wrong. The chances of me admitting that out loud are nil, but that doesn’t mean the thought isn’t lurking rent-free in my head.
My solution? Using the Nicolo angle, lying by saying that we have a lunch meeting with him to keep Aspen by my side.
The lunch happened in my house, right after spanking her ass red for refusing to eat, and then ordering her to consume food.
She’s currently standing near the window, wearing only my shirt.
And hickeys.
And bite marks.
And my handprint.
Her fair legs are covered in fading bruises. At some point, she stopped complaining about them, except for when she has to use a ton of makeup to cover the ones on her neck.
She did ask me not to bite there anymore, but fuck that.
There’s always this animalistic need to mark every inch of her skin so she’ll only belong to me.
So I’m the only man who ever gets to own her body and has a mission to conquer her soul.
I never had these feelings about a woman before. There was a hint of wanting more when I first met her, but it wasn’t to the extent of this burning obsession.
Not to the extent of being hungry twenty-four seven for a taste of her.
I’ve never been the type of man who gets attached easily, or at all. Never looked at a woman twice, or came up with one idea after the other to trap her to stay with me.
But the woman standing at the window, checking her phone and massaging her temple, is the exception to all the above.
She’s so fucking beautiful, like my tailored fallen angel and the devil’s favorite demon.
Unable to resist the urge, I pull on my boxer briefs and walk up to her, then wrap a possessive arm around her waist, cocooning her from behind.
She smells of sex and me.
I always smell myself on her now, and I’m thankful for the sensitive nose that allows me to experience this moment to the fullest.
My other hand massages her head and she sighs. “Mmm. Right there.”
“You still have severe headaches?”
“Only when I’m tired. Thanks to someone.” She gives me the stink eye and I merely smirk, continuing my task.
Aspen is seven days sober, and I’m going to bet her decision to stop drinking has to do with Gwen calling her an alcoholic. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Aspen, it’s that she despises being weak with a passion. A result of her rough childhood, mobster father, and the lengths she had to go to in order to snatch her position at the top.
And according to her logic, being less than perfect in Gwen’s eyes is a sign of weakness.
That’s the furthest thing from the truth, but if it makes her stop drinking, then she can believe it all she wants.
She’s been an adorably grumpy creature while withdrawing. The first few days were the worst, but she’s been gradually adjusting and even started to eat more. And my favorite part? She seeks me out every chance she gets, and when I attempted to ignore her just to get a reaction out of her, she bombarded my phone with her form of invitation—erotic pictures.
Sighing, she relaxes in my hold, and even her movements pause on the phone.
“Still trying to reach Gwen?” I motion at the screen that’s opened to her group chat with Caroline and Gwen.
“She’s ignoring me but talks to Caroline just fine.”
“That’s a manifestation of her anger. She’ll come around.”
“You also said she’s the forgiving type, but that personality trait apparently doesn’t apply to this.” Her voice lowers. “I feel like she’s slipping through my fingers after I’ve finally got her. What if she remains disappointed in me?”
“She’s wanted a mother ever since she was a toddler, so the chances of that desire waning is somewhere below zero. Gwen is infuriatingly determined and doesn’t give up unless she gets what she wants.”
Her face lights up like it does anytime I talk about Gwen and then she wraps an arm around her stomach. “You know, she kicked a lot when she was inside me, sometimes hauling me out of sleep in the middle of the night. I thought she was sick or something and I couldn’t do anything about it or I could have triggered my aunt and uncle’s abuse.”
My jaw clenches and I stop massaging her head to keep from squeezing it or something worse.
Like me, Aspen doesn’t like to talk about her past. This is one of the few times she’s willingly offered a glimpse.
“Are your aunt and uncle still alive?”
“Thankfully, no. They died in a horrible crash soon after I ran away. My aunt’s head was found a mile away from her body.”
“Good riddance.”
She shudders. “I thought I would feel glad, too, but their death didn’t give me back the daughter I lost. Back then, they hit me any chance they got, tried to poison me, too, and locked me up until I thought I was going to die.”
“But you didn’t. You’re here.”
“Yeah. I set traps all over the house and made their lives hell. I tried everything under the sun to protect the baby that was growing inside me. I was young but not really a kid, you know, and for the first time in my life, I felt responsible for someone else. I fell in love with her the second I found out about her and I used to read to her a lot, have her listen to all types of music, and tell her happy stories that I was too pragmatic to feel joy from. I…wanted her to be loved and cared for and to have a story different from mine. So when they put that dead baby in my arms, I lost all my purpose and merely survived. Until…well, now. I want to give her everything I have and don’t have, despite the fact that she’s not a kid and is married. Is that weird?”
“No, it just means you’re a parent. And if it’s any consolation, I also wanted her to have a story different from mine. Which is probably why I spoiled and sheltered her too much.”
She faces me, forcing me to let her go. “You’re a great father, Kingsley. The best father I know.”
“Either you don’t know many fathers, or that was meant to be a compliment.”
A blush explodes on her neck and she whispers, “Shut up.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep your emotions a secret, sweetheart. Not even our daughter will find out about it.”
She pauses, her lips falling open. “You…just… Did you just call her our daughter?”
“Well, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, but you’ve never said that before.”
“You called her our daughter first the other day. So I’m just keeping up with the trend.”
She flashes me a smile. “Thank you.”
“Did the world just end or did you thank me?”
“Just go with it and stop being a smartass.”
I pull her against me. “Am I?”
“The worst of all.” She sighs, nuzzling her nose against my chest. “But hey, your smell definitely chases away the withdrawal headache.”
“I charge with a fuck for every hug.”
Her shoulders shake with laughter. “Sex addict.”
I stroke her fiery hair. “I plead guilty, Your Honor.”
We remain like that for a while, her arms wrapped around my waist, face buried in my chest, and my fingers playing with her hair.
And if time could stop, this would be the perfect moment.
“You should tell Gwen what you just told me,” I say after a while. “She’d understand.”
“I’d rather not.”
“You don’t have to be strong all the time, Aspen. There are people, your flesh and blood included, who should see you for who you are. Flaws, weaknesses, and all. Someone as empathetic as Gwen will appreciate it.”
“I…will think about it.” She releases a breath. “It just feels so weird after all these years. A lot of things do.”
“Like what?”
“Like how I found you, Caroline, and Gwen. It’s like that sudden surge of life dying patients get before they die.”
“That’s a depressing analogy.”
“I know. I just can’t help thinking about it.”
“What I can’t help thinking about is how your aunt and uncle found me.”
She lifts her head, frowning. “Me either. All these years, I thought Caroline helped them, but she swore it wasn’t the case.”
I don’t like this. It’s a missing piece in a puzzle and a black hole that disrupts the whole picture. The worst part is that the only links to this theory, Aspen’s aunt and uncle, are gone.
As if it was all planned.
My phone beeps on the floor beside us, but I pay it no attention.
Aspen stiffens a little before she subtly pulls away. “I’m going to get back to work.”
I clutch her wrist before she’s out of view. “Why?”
“What do you mean why? I have a meeting with a client.”
“That’s not what I’m wondering about. Why did you pull away from me just now?”
“I…did not.”
“You’re not even meeting my gaze.” I tilt her head up to be greeted by her muted eyes.
All light has vanished from them as if she’s in battle mode. She has this mode sometimes where she escapes into a deeper part of herself, where it’s impossible to find her.
“I have work, Kingsley. Not all of us have billions to fall back on.”
“Your social discrimination bitterness is not only pathetic but holds no logic.”
“Then I’m pathetic.” She forcibly pushes me away, grabs her clothes from the floor, and slams the bathroom door shut.
I’m about to haul her out of there and see what the fuck got her nonexistent panties in a twist, but that would only lead to a fight.
Considering our equally headstrong personalities, it’s better to just let things cool off sometimes.
I grab my phone and pause when I see a text on the screen from one of my previous side pieces.
Hey, sexy.
I narrow my eyes on it, then on the bathroom door. Aspen couldn’t have seen it.
If she did, she would’ve raised hell about it.
I delete the text, block the number, and consider changing mine. Too many women know it when they should’ve taken their NDAs seriously.
They don’t matter anymore.
In fact, they never did.
The only woman who does is apparently mad at me.
