Claimed By My CEO Stepdad

Chapter Eight

Aria Pov

The morning air outside the hotel felt colder than it should have.

I stepped into the first cab I saw, still feeling the slight, persistent ache between my legs and the deeper soreness in my thighs. Every small shift on the seat reminded me of the night before—of the way he had held my hair, the way he had watched me swallow him, the blank cheque I had filled out like a transaction. One hundred thousand dollars. The number sat in my mind like a stone. I told myself it was practical. I told myself it meant the night was finished and sealed. I did not believe either claim.

My phone rang before the cab had even pulled fully into traffic.

Victoria’s name lit the screen. I answered on the second ring.

“Aria, where are you?” Her voice was bright, already moving at full speed. “I’ve been calling. Are you still at Ethan’s?”

I stared out the window at the passing buildings. “I’m coming,” I said. “I’m on my way home now.”

“Good. Don’t take too long. There’s something important this morning.”

She hung up before I could ask what she meant. I slipped the phone back into my bag and leaned my head against the seat. The city moved past in blurred streaks of glass and concrete. I kept my hands folded in my lap so the driver would not see them tremble.

When the cab finally stopped in front of our building I paid quickly and stepped out. The familiar entrance felt strangely distant, as if I had been gone much longer than one night. I climbed the stairs slowly, each step pulling at the lingering soreness in my legs. By the time I reached our door my heart was already beating too fast.

Victoria opened it before I could knock.

“There you are.” She pulled me into a quick, warm hug that smelled of her usual perfume and fresh coffee. When she drew back she studied my face with open affection. “You look tired. How is Ethan? Did you two have a good night?”

The question landed like a slap of its own.

I felt the bruise on my cheek, carefully covered with makeup that still did not fully hide the shadow. I felt the ache between my thighs. I felt the memory of Ethan on that bed with Derek and the way he had looked at me afterward with no guilt at all.

“He’s fine,” I said. The lie tasted thin. “We… talked.”

I did not dare tell her the truth. I did not tell her that my boyfriend preferred men, that he had slapped me hard enough to leave a mark, that I had not slept in his apartment at all. I did not tell her I had spent the night in a hotel suite with a stranger who paid me a hundred thousand dollars to walk away clean. Some truths were too large for the morning light and my mother’s hopeful face.

Victoria smiled, satisfied enough with the short answer. “Go put your bag down and freshen up. Then come straight to the kitchen. We’re having breakfast together.”

I nodded and moved past her into the small hallway. My room felt unchanged—same narrow bed, same pale curtains, same quiet that had always belonged only to me. I set my bag on the floor and sat on the edge of the mattress for a moment, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. The night still clung to my skin no matter how thoroughly I had washed in the hotel bathroom. I could still feel the ghost of his hands. I could still hear the low sound he made when he came into my mouth.

I stood up again before the memories could pull me under.

In the bathroom I splashed cold water on my face, smoothed my hair, and checked the makeup once more. The bruise was quieter now, but it was still there if someone looked closely. I changed into clean clothes—simple jeans and a soft blouse—hoping the ordinary fabric would make me feel ordinary again. It did not.

When I stepped back into the hallway Victoria’s voice floated from the kitchen.

“Aria, hurry. Your stepdad is at home. We’re having breakfast together.”

The words stopped me cold.

Your stepdad is at home.

I had known this moment was coming. Victoria had told me yesterday that he would be here, that I would finally meet the man who had been sending money and existing only as a name. I had prepared myself for a polite stranger, an older businessman, someone distant and formal. I had not prepared myself for the possibility that the universe could be this cruel.

I forced my feet to move.

The short hallway felt longer than it ever had. Each step brought me closer to the low murmur of a deep voice I already recognized. My pulse climbed into my throat. The ache between my legs pulsed in time with it, a humiliating reminder of exactly how well I already knew that voice, that body, that controlled intensity.

I reached the top of the short stairs that led down into the open living area and kitchen.

As I came downstairs, the first thing I saw was him, and our eyes met.