Entangled with My CEO Stepfather

6.

Jasmine

If I could stop thinking about it, I would. But I can’t.

I’m at Betty’s apartment, sitting on her bed, my eyes glued to the screen of my laptop, but I can’t make out the image in front of me. My finger is pressed against the mouse, just slowly feeling its slick touch as though that’s the only thing that can keep me in the present so I don’t go back to that moment.

I can almost feel his eyes burning against my lips, a desperate hunger that makes me breathless.

No! f**k!

“Jasmine.”

My body flinches, my eyes darting to Betty as she walks into the room.

“Hm.” Her brows furrow. “I swear I turned on the AC; why are you sweating so much?” she mouths before walking towards me.

My heart skips a beat, my palm sliding across my temple.

I force an awkward chuckle, “It’s nothing… I just need to take a shower.”

“So?” she starts, her brows raised.

“So…” I chorus, completely clueless as to what this is.

“The applications. How many have you sent?” She moves to the end of the bed, sitting beside me.

“Ah, that. Eighteen—”

“Eighteen?” she cuts me off before I finish pronouncing the word. “It’s barely been an hour, and you’ve already—”

“I told you I had to do this. I can’t stand him. He’s so… annoying and rude…” I roll my eyes, but I try to keep the rest of the words inside me. Complaining too much would give me away.

“Really? You’re going to quit the job you spent two years trying to get into because you hate your mother’s new husband,” she says almost jokingly, like she clearly read meaning into it.

“It’s not about my mother.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s about the handsome rich man she’s married to. The one you hate before even knowing him.”

“I’ve spoken to him, Betts; he has an attitude… you’d hate him too.”

“I’ve known you my whole life, and you have an attitude,” she immediately counters.

My God!

It’s almost like she supports him.

“Betts, seriously—”

The sound of a buzzing phone cuts through the silence. It’s the phone in Betty’s hand, and it’s my boring ringtone.

“I almost forgot. Violet has been blowing up your phone.” She says, raising the phone for me to see.

My face twitches awkwardly.

“Why? She never calls me; she has Mum pick up her diapers.” My gaze returns to my laptop, ready to send another application even though I see the pay is just two thousand dollars a month.

“If she never calls, don't you think it’s important?” Betty tries to get my attention.

“I’m sure it’s not. She probably won something and needs to brag about it to me. She’s fine.” I barely finish speaking before she presses the phone against her ear.

“Yes, it’s Betty…”

My gaze snaps to her, my eyes wide open.

I don’t know why, but my heart begins to thump heavily in my chest.

Maybe I do.

My mind goes to the most ridiculous question ever. What if it’s something relating to him?

I clench my fist, my gaze locked on Betty. Her eyes remain unreadable as she hands me the phone.

Although every cell inside me rejects whatever call comes from a location he’s in, my shaky hand moves, taking the phone and pressing it against my ear.

“Jasmine. A—Are you there?” Violet’s broken voice comes over the speaker.

My body stills.

She’s sobbing heavily. Violet! The person who didn’t cry at my father’s burial.

“What's wrong? Are you okay?” Instinct takes over immediately.

“It’s Paul. P—Please, can you come home?”

Home?

God no!

“Violet…” I call out, but Betty snaps her fingers, calling for my attention.

“Don't you dare!” She mouths, pointing her finger at me. Clearly a warning.

Fuck!

“Jasmine… please?” She starts crying all over again.

“Fine. Make sure your room is tidy, or be in mine before I come home.” I sigh before disconnecting the line.

“It’s already dark. I should leave now so I get home on time.” I say, trying not to complain.

Betty only smiles and nods at me as I gather my stuff to head right into a chocolate factory when I’m allergic to chocolate.

The one-hour drive home feels like minutes. Like the world itself keeps finding ways to get me into his orbit. But I keep my jaw locked, a serious expression on my face as I head straight into Violet’s room, avoiding everyone.

“Jasmine…” she wails at the sight of me, her hands stretched out. “Can you believe him… just because he turned eighteen, he left me…” she continues to sob as I stand behind her door, trying to catch my breath after running all the way from the garage with two grocery bags in hand.

Letting out a deep sigh, I tiptoe through the pile of clothes all over the ground and remnants of snacks. The air in the room isn’t helping either; I feel like I’m in a laundromat on a busy Wednesday.

I had said Tidy up your room, Violet!

I slide into the bed beside her, sinking into the Cheeto dust as she wraps her sticky arms around me, pressing her head against my chest.

Hesitantly, my palm begins stroking her back. Not because I don't want to, but because this feels weird. The last time we were physically this close was when she was five.

It's weird, but there’s a sudden calm to it. Having her holding me this tight, sobbing as I stroke her back. My eyes slowly close shut, trying to avoid how the hundreds of medals on the wall catch the light. I don’t want to dwell on that. I shouldn’t remember how each medal or trophy is just another reminder of how my needs were ignored just so hers were met.

“I hate men! I do!” She starts speaking again, but I just listen. It might not seem as big to me as it is to her, but I know she’ll be fine. It's just a boy. Paul Hogan, a nerdy short king she met at a spelling bee.

“It’s okay. You’ll be okay,” I give the best comfort I can.

“Why can’t he be like Daddy Valdimir?”

Six words that feel like ink tainting this sacred moment.

My palm freezes against her back. Just when I’d managed to forget about him for a split second, she has to remind me whose house this is. At any moment, that door could swing open, and he’ll be standing there.

“You can’t say that; you don’t know him…” I find myself defending nerdy Paul, but mostly for the wrong reason.

“I do. Last week, before Mom’s wedding, we were in Egypt, and he made sure I had everything while he spent time with Mom.”

I can almost feel my brain split in two.

“And that makes him the best man there is?” I ask, trying to hold back my irritation.

She only sighs, reaching across from me and taking another bag of chips from the one I bought her.

“There's ice cream there if you want it.”

“No, thank you. I don't take that cheap stuff anymore. Daddy Vladimir improved my palate after we went to Italy and he had the whole store rented out for the day in Tuscany, just so I could have a taste of all the flavors.” She sniffs, still resting against my chest while I pat her back.

Great!

“He remembered my favorite chocolate without asking.” She adds.

“Right, because that's so easy to forget. Mint Stracciatella…” I respond sarcastically.

“He sat through my swimming competition even though Mom couldn't make it.”

If I were invited, I would have been there as well.

It doesn't end. The skin-crawling praises of why ‘Daddy’ Vladimir is the best man she knows, and how I should feel lucky to work in the same company as him. All I can do is sigh and agree.

All she says contradicts the Vladimir I’ve seen so far. Maybe that’s the front he’s putting up for her.

The second I can no longer feel her moving, I know she has fallen asleep.

The calm and quiet make my heart melt in my chest. She’d puke when she's better and realize she fell asleep on me. Like she always did when we were younger.

I should take a picture of this.

Carefully, I reach for my phone, that warmth still swirling in my chest. I'm glad I came. It almost makes the whole of today less stressful and more fulfilling.

This is why I love Betty.

The second my phone unlocks, a message pops up.

Walter.

A smile forms across my lips.

‘Thinking about you. Let's have dinner tomorrow after work.’

My smile widens.

Then another message.

KGH: System notification.

Blood drains from my face.

‘You are required to report to the office by 6:30 a.m. tomorrow to accompany Mr. Kensington on a two-day business trip to Madrid.’