Daddy's Wet Little Secret

A Sprained Ankle, A Bonding Moment

CHAPTER FOUR

RAIN’S POV

Dinner felt longer than it should have.

Thelma was talking about something funny that happened at the mall, and I knew I was supposed to laugh, or at least smile, but I could barely hear her over the sound of my own heartbeat.

“Rain?”

I looked up. “Hm?”

Thelma blinked. “I said the saleslady was flirting with Uncle Lucien so badly. You should have seen her.”

I forced a smile. “Really?”

Thelma laughed. “You sound so serious. Yes, really. She nearly folded herself in half.”

Across the table, Lucien lifted his glass of water calmly. “That is not what happened.”

“It absolutely is,” Thelma said. “She was smiling too much. She asked for his number.”

“Thelma, she just wanted to have it in case I needed a doorstep delivery.”

“You're being ridiculous, all she would've have asked was your address if that was truly the case, the f**k does she need your number for??”

Lucien glared. “Language.”

I stared at my plate and pushed my food around with my fork. After a while, I heard the softest manner anyone could have my name.

“Rain,” Lucien said.

My fingers tightened around the fork. “Yes?”

“You haven’t eaten.”

I swallowed. “I’m trying to.”

Thelma looked between us. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I said too quickly. “I’m just…still processing all of this.” I smiled genuinely this time. “I’m so grateful to the Lord for this opportunity.”

Lucien’s gaze stayed on me for a second too long. “To be honest, we are also grateful to the Lord for bringing an angel into this family.”

“Angel?” I blushed and quickly realized he probably meant it in the most innocent way possible.

“Yes, you are like a miracle to this family.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Mr Vale.”

He returned the smile with a much brighter one, that was when I realized he had dimples. No wonder his smile felt so addictive.

Thelma kept talking after that, filling the silence the way she always did, but I was barely there. Every time Lucien reached for his glass, I noticed his hands, the emerald ring on his index finger and his cuffs. Every time he spoke, I felt it in my stomach. Every time our eyes almost met, I looked away first.

I hated that I was acting like this.

No, hated was not the right word.

I was scared of it.

Dinner ended with the scrape of chairs and soft goodnights. Thelma hugged me before heading to her room.

“Try to sleep early,” she said. “Tomorrow I’m stealing you for a full house tour.”

I smiled faintly. “Okay.”

Then she was gone.

Lucien remained by the table for a moment, busy with his phone, the bright screen from his phone reflected on his glasses as the light in the dining room was already dim. I should have left. I knew I should have.

But I stared.

He let his phone down on the table while still staring, loosened his watch, glanced down at something on the table, then looked up and caught me staring.

My breath stopped.

“Rain.”

It was just my name.

Just that.

Still, I felt it everywhere.

“Yes?”

“You should rest.”

I nodded too fast. “Right, sorry. Good night.”

“Rain?”

He called again before I could turn around fully.

“I want you to see me as your father. I’m not some stranger who just needed a daughter, I signed that document because I needed someone to rely on me and see me as their father. So, that is what you'll do onward, alright?”

I swallowed and nodded.

“Good night.” He muttered.

I didn't reply, I turned and practically fled upstairs.

The second my bedroom door shut behind me, I pressed my back to it and closed my eyes.

“What is wrong with you?” I whispered.

I clutched onto my rosary and began whispering into it, “Lord, please save me. Lord, please save me. Lord, please save me.”

Lucien had saved me. He had given me a home, safety, breathing room, a future. He had been kind when life had not. Steady when everything in me was shaking.

“It's just gratitude. I'm just grateful to him for helping me when I needed it the most.” I began to mutter to myself.

I walked deeper into the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

“This is stupid,” I muttered.

I lay back and stared at the ceiling.

“It’ll pass.”

It did not pass.

I turned to one side. Then the other.

I pulled the blanket up. Threw it off. Closed my eyes. Opened them again.

Nothing helped.

Every time I drifted, I saw him at the table. His glasses. His voice. The quiet authority in the way he said things.

That was what was driving me insane.

He was never careless. Never inappropriate. Never even close.

By the time I gave up on sleep, the house had gone completely silent.

I slipped out of bed, pulled on a robe, and opened my door carefully.

The estate felt different at night.

“I’m just getting water,” I whispered to myself, as if I needed permission.

Downstairs, the kitchen was dark except for the low light above the counter. I poured myself water and drank half of it in one go.

That was when I saw it.

A line of warm light spilling from beneath a door farther down the hall.

His study.

I should have looked away.

Instead, I stood there with the glass in my hand, staring like the light itself was pulling me closer.

I told myself I was only curious.

One step.

Then another.

Then my foot landed wrong on the staircase edge.

Pain shot through my ankle so fast I gasped.

The glass slipped from my hand and It shattered.

And then I was falling.

I hit the step hard and bit back a cry, but it still came out.

The study door opened almost immediately.

“Rain?”

Lucien was at the bottom of the stairs in seconds.

I tried to sit up. “I’m okay.”

“You’re not.”

“I said I’m fine.”

He was already kneeling beside me. “Don’t move.”

I froze.

His hands were careful as he checked my ankle.

“Does this hurt?”

“Yes,” I said, then winced. “A little.”

“A little?”

“Okay, a lot.”

He exhaled through his nose. “You missed a step?”

I nodded, embarrassed. “I saw the light under your door and—”

I stopped.

His eyes lifted to mine.

“And?” he asked quietly.

My mouth went dry. “And I wanted to check if you were still working late.”

For one second, neither of us said anything, he watched me through warm gaze.

Then he stood.

Before I could ask what he was doing, he bent and lifted me into his arms.

I grabbed his shirt on instinct. “Lucien—”

“No.”

“I can walk.”

“No, you cannot.”

“It’s just my ankle.”

“And you just fell down the stairs.”

I could feel the steady strength of him, the warmth of his chest, the clean scent of his skin. I hated how easily my body melted into the hold even while my mind was screaming.

I was forced to lean in, my nose inhaling the strong scent of his cologne from his neck. Then, I saw a name tattoo on his shoulder blade, “Tania”. My breath caught.

He started up the stairs.

Just as I said, “This is not necessary.” Sounding annoyed.

“You broke an ankle.”

I was hearing his heavy breathing and before I could stop myself, I asked, “Why are you breathing so heavily?”

He chuckled, the rumble from the chuckle vibrating in my bones.

My heart was doing something reckless and humiliating.

When we reached my room, he carried me inside and set me down gently on the bed.

“Stay there,” he said.

“I wasn’t planning to sprint.”

He gave me a look and disappeared out of the room, reappearing shortly with an ice pack.

He crouched in front of me again, and pressed the ice pack on where my ankle was sprained.

I watched him. His long fingers, his long lashes as his gaze focused on icing my sprained ankle.

“Why were you awake?” I suddenly asked.

“Work.”

“At this hour?”

“Do you also have trouble sleeping?”

He said nothing and after a short while said, “Do you?”

I nodded. “I mostly stay up staring at my crumpled ceiling. Before I watch TV till 7am in the morning but I stopped doing that because I didn't want my landlord hearing the sound and harassing me late at night. The only day I remember sleeping, I was woken up by the water dripping fast and cold on my head. When I opened my eyes, it was raining heavily and my room was flooded.”

He finally looked up. “I'm glad I found you at the right time.” He went back to icing my sprain. “You need not worry. I'll give you everything you ever wanted. All you have to do is ask.”

I blinked. And in my thoughts I said, “I don't think so. Because what I want right now is the most priceless thing.”

“Hold the ice.” He muttered.

I did, my heart stuttering when our fingers touched slightly.

He got up. “Hold it like that for twenty more minutes. I'll come check up on you ever five minutes.”

As he start to leave, something possessed me to ask. “Who is Tania?”