Claimed By My CEO Stepdad

Chapter Thirteen

Aria Pov

The statement rang in my ear.

“Stop.”

One quiet word, spoken with the same controlled authority he used in the boardroom, yet it landed heavier than it should have. I stood frozen with my hand still on the door handle, the corridor stretching empty behind me. Why would he say I should stop? The supermarket request from Victoria still sat unfinished in my mind, practical and ordinary, but the way he had spoken made the ordinary feel suddenly dangerous.

I turned back and looked at him.

Alexander stood near his desk, posture straight, expression unreadable. The city light behind him outlined the sharp lines of his shoulders. He did not move closer. He simply watched me with that same steady intensity I had felt in the hotel when he first told me to open my mouth.

“Sit,” he said. “Did you hear me? I said stop.”

The command was soft, almost conversational, yet there was no room in it for refusal. My pulse climbed. I let the door close with a quiet click and walked the few steps to the chair across from his desk. I sat. The leather was cool against the backs of my thighs. I kept my hands folded in my lap and forced myself to meet his eyes.

“Yes,” I said. “I heard you.”

He remained standing for a moment longer, then moved around the desk with unhurried precision until he stood closer than professional distance required. The faint scent of his cologne reached me—clean, expensive, and already too familiar.

“What is it, sir?” I asked, keeping my voice even.

His gaze held mine without blinking.

“I want you to call me Daddy. Not sir.”

The words struck like a physical touch. Heat rushed up my neck and across my cheeks. For a second I could only stare at him. The night in the hotel flashed behind my eyes—his hand in my hair, the way he had watched me take him, the low sound he made when he came. Now he stood in his office in full daylight, asking for a title that made the forbidden nature of everything between us even sharper.

“But—”

He lifted one hand, not quite touching me, yet the gesture alone was enough to stop the rest of the sentence in my throat.

“But,” he said, voice low and final, “doesn’t change anything.”

Silence stretched between us. My breathing felt too loud in the quiet office. I could still feel the slight residual ache between my legs, a humiliating reminder of how thoroughly he had already claimed me. Calling him Daddy would make the memory even harder to bury. It would turn every future interaction into something charged and deliberate.

He waited, patient and unyielding, as if the outcome had already been decided.

I swallowed.

“Yes… Daddy.”

The word left my mouth barely above a whisper, yet it seemed to fill the entire room. Something dark and satisfied moved through his eyes. He did not smile. He simply inclined his head once, acknowledging the shift.

“Good,” he said. “Now go. Take care of what your mother asked. When you return, come straight to my office.”

I stood on legs that felt less steady than they should have. He stepped back just enough to let me pass. I walked to the door without looking at him again, opened it, and stepped into the corridor. The air outside his office felt cooler, thinner. I kept walking until I reached the elevators, then the lobby, then the street.

The city noise rushed around me, ordinary and indifferent. I raised a hand and a cab pulled to the curb within moments. I slid into the back seat, gave the driver the name of the supermarket Victoria always used, and sat very still as the door closed.

I took a cab as I went to the supermarket.