Daddy’s Obsession

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The kitchen remained quiet long after the plates had been cleared.

Vivienne sat on the high stool in Arcturus’s oversized white polo, bare legs dangling, the hem brushing mid-thigh. Every small shift reminded her of the deep ache between her legs. She kept her eyes on the marble countertop, fingers curled tightly around the ceramic mug of coffee he had poured for her. The silence felt heavier than any conversation.

Arcturus leaned against the opposite counter, arms crossed, watching her with that same unreadable calm he always wore. As if the night before had not happened. As if he had not spent hours buried inside her, calling her his slut and his heaven while she came apart beneath him.

“You’re staring,” she said quietly.

“I am.” His voice was even. “You’re beautiful when you’re nervous. The freckles across your nose stand out more when your face is flushed.”

Vivienne’s ears burned. She looked down again. Red hair—slightly wavy from the shower—fell over one shoulder. Pale skin. Green eyes she knew were too wide right now. She had always been told she was pretty. Boys at university stared. Professors sometimes lingered too long. But none of them looked at her the way Arcturus did. Like he was already imagining the next time he would ruin her.

She cleared her throat.

“About Italy…”

“What about it?”

“I still don’t understand why it has to be now. My third year just ended. Final year starts after the break. I was hoping to spend time with Rowena before everything gets busy again.”

Arcturus pushed off the counter and walked around the island until he stood beside her. Close enough that she could smell the clean scent of his skin. He reached past her for his own coffee, deliberately brushing her arm.

“Rowena can wait,” he said. “I can’t.”

Vivienne’s fingers tightened around the mug.

“You’ve never taken me on a trip like this before.”

“I’ve never had you before.” The words were quiet, matter-of-fact. “Things are different now.”

She swallowed. The casual way he said it made her stomach twist.

Arcturus took a slow sip of coffee, then set the cup down. His dark eyes moved over her face again—lingering on the scatter of freckles across her nose and cheeks, the soft curve of her mouth, the way the collar of his polo slipped off one pale shoulder.

“You’re studying International Business and Corporate Strategy at Imperial,” he said, as if continuing a normal conversation. “Top of your cohort last term. You’ll finish your final year with distinction if you stay focused. After that, you’ll come work under me.”

Vivienne blinked.

“I… I haven’t decided where I want to work yet.”

“You don’t need to decide. I’ve already decided for you.” He tilted his head slightly. “Callahan Holdings. You’ll start in the acquisitions division. I’ll teach you everything myself.”

Callahan Holdings.

The name alone carried weight across Europe. Arcturus Vesarius Callahan was not simply wealthy—he was the kind of rich that owned islands in the Caribbean, private estates in the Scottish Highlands, a fleet of cars that never saw public roads, and a helicopter that waited on the rooftop of the company’s London headquarters. He controlled ports, logistics networks, luxury real estate, and several quieter companies that never appeared in the public filings. People in the city spoke his name with a mixture of respect and caution.

Vivienne had grown up inside that world without ever fully belonging to it. Her mother had brought her into Arcturus’s life when she was still small. She still remembered the first time she saw this house—the high ceilings, the quiet staff, the way everything smelled expensive. Arcturus had accepted her without hesitation. He had signed the papers. He had put her in the best schools. He had introduced her as his daughter.

And then, when she was twelve, her mother simply vanished.

No note. No call. No body. Just gone.

Arcturus had never spoken of it in detail. He had only held her the night it happened, one large hand on the back of her head, and told her that she still had a home. That she still had him.

She had believed him.

She still did.

Even now.

Especially now.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Vivienne murmured.

“What thing?”

“Looking at me like… like you want to—”

“f**k you again?” Arcturus finished calmly. A faint smirk touched the corner of his mouth. “I do. But not right now. You’re still sore. I can be patient when it matters.”

Heat flooded her face. She looked away, staring hard at the half-empty mug in her hands.

Arcturus’s voice softened, though the possessiveness underneath never left.

“The villa is in Positano. Private, cliffside, fully staffed. We’ll have the place to ourselves. No interruptions. No friends. No distractions.” His eyes drifted over her red hair again. “I want two weeks of you without anyone else pulling at your attention.”

“And after that?” she asked quietly. “When we come back… what happens?”

Arcturus stepped closer. One hand settled on the counter beside her hip, caging her in without quite touching.

“After that,” he said, “you start your final year. You continue living in this house. You continue belonging to me. And every time you forget what that means, I’ll remind you.”

Vivienne’s pulse hammered in her throat. She wanted to argue. She wanted to demand space, independence, something that resembled a normal life. But the words tangled and died under the weight of his stare.

A phone vibrated against the marble.

Arcturus glanced down. The screen lit up with a name that made his expression cool by several degrees.

Orion.

For a moment he simply stared at the incoming call. Then he exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled, and answered.

“What.”

Vivienne could not hear the other side of the conversation, but she watched Arcturus’s jaw tighten almost imperceptibly. His free hand remained on the counter beside her, fingers flexing once.

“No,” he said after a pause. “She’s not available.”

Another silence.

“I don’t care what you want, Orion.” His voice dropped lower. “Stay away from her.”

He ended the call without another word and set the phone face-down on the counter.

Vivienne’s stomach flipped.

Arcturus looked at her again. The calm mask was back in place, but something darker moved behind his eyes.

“My brother,” he said quietly, “has always had poor timing.”

He reached out and brushed a strand of red hair behind her ear, the gesture deceptively gentle.

“Finish your coffee, my heaven. We have packing to do.”

The tension in the kitchen did not ease.

If anything, it thickened.