A Mistress To My StepDaddy

Chapter 6: His Arrival

(Isabelle's Pov)

No! I refused to believe it. There's absolutely no way he is my stepfather.

My brain was in chaos, I kept thinking about him. In fact, by the time I finally pulled my hands away, the water had been running the whole time. I was still pressing my hands against the cold, white porcelain, my eyes staring straight down into the drain. I just couldn't bring myself to look at my reflection. I almost knew exactly what my face looked like, and I didn't really want to find out for sure.

The sound of my mother's laughter went up through the ceiling. She was definitely making the most of her time with her so- called husband. Completely unaware of what is going to happen to her family and her life. My stomach turned, and my hand was again in the direction of the tap.

I was rinsing my face when the door was flung open. The Sir in the room suddenly shifted, wondering who was towering behind me. My body recognized him before my brain finished the thought.

I could feel him. I had a sense of the atmosphere changing just as it had in the club, when the pressure had dropped and the room had become smaller and warmer. Before my brain was able to react, my body had already identified him. I still looked at him because not looking would have been worse.

There he was in the doorway, hands casually tucked in the pockets of his jeans. His jacket, with the left arm rolled up, showing the tattoo on his forearm, which was catching the light of the bathroom. The tattoo consists of thick black lines that extend to his elbow, the same lines that I got enamored with even before I knew his name.

His hand, rested on the door frame, gripping the door handle lightly, not holding it tightly, but just leaving it there, as if it belonged to him. He looked at me in the exact same way he had in that dark room three weeks ago. "Are you alright, Isabelle?" He asked, with a blank expression, as if he genuinely wanted to know. "You look a bit flushed."

He said, coming closer while I was turning off the tap. "I'm fine."

I replied, attempting to seem relaxed, although the truth was I was far from it. He stood still. His eyes locked on me. And those amazing eyes... Oh my God! They really see through you. He pretended to have some concern, the same kind of concern he gave me before he finally took me that night.

I took a deep breath and, with one hand, rested on the edge of the sink as he moved toward me more and more until I finally felt his breath that was like a tender caress against my cheek when he opened the door and then closed it behind him, leaving us both alone. How could I forget that smell! Smell of cedar, and a deep note of something wild.... I could recognize it immediately that scent reminded me of the night when he used me... Really, a crazy night!

While panting, I was tugging at his face. Dorian's eyes mesmerize a woman, that's for sure. At the same time, I was unraveling my dress. "There is no need to put up a facade," he uttered softly, almost a whisper in my ear. The kind of whisper you sense just before you actually hear it. "We both know what this is, baby girl."

"My mother is downstairs." I suddenly cut him off, stepping back so that I wouldn't have to want him, but then... Damn it! I felt aroused beneath. But, he still wouldn't blink.

"She is." Firmly keeping his gaze locked on me, he said, "And that doesn't change the fact of it, sweetie."

There was no smile from him and his face didn't even twitch, absolutely no amusement or even any warning, not at all. He saw that I was avoiding him at all costs and, since he completely understood that we were starting a new chapter in our relationship father

"Isabelle?" "We have a secret between us, huh?" He asked rhetorically, pretending to know exactly how I would react

My nails scraped the bottom of the basin as I heard him making it further "Please stop! Don't do that," I said.

"Don't do what?" He asked. "Stop making it sound like we're the same team." I said as he tilted his head slightly, examining me with the same little, unidentifiable curiosity he used to examine that canvas in the club bar when I didn't know what he was or what he did, let alone who he was. "Aren't we? I asked as I looked sternly at him now.

"You're marrying my mother, Dorian. After making love with the other woman in the club, you are marrying her own mother, really?" I said, annoyed, and whatever that flashed on his face too quickly for him to identify. My hand slid off the door frame, and that was the end. That's it. 'Whichever it is,' he muttered to himself, 'Let's both pretend that this never happened.

I stopped, still in the same spot, another minute. My palms rested on the basin, I turned off the faucet and the glass showed my face and whatever it was that I wanted to hide most, the red colour on my cheeks, the tightening of my jaw, with the shining look in my eyes.

I placed the back of my hand near my mouth, and from downstairs, I heard my mother laughing again at whatever was amusing her. Then, I opened the faucet and ran cold water.