Yours, Daddies!

Hello, Stepsis.

Chapter 7.

The air in the room tensed and silence draped over them.

Isadora’s stomach churned, and a sharp feeling of fear sizzled down her leg.

“Isadora… go say hi to your stepbrother.”

Her mother’s painted sweet voice slipped into her throat, and she blinked back, sparing her mother a faux smile.

Stepbrother? No stepbrother would f**k his stepsister’s p***y and make her c*m for him like a slut.

But he did, and her life was just about to spiral.

Isadora dragged her wobbling legs to his position, her p***y remembering every drag of his finger.

“Hi… my name is Isadora.”

Damian’s jaws clamped. His cold eyes pierced into hers like it could cut through her.

His c**k twitched at the gentle pout of her mouth, and every nerve in him crawled to grab her by the wrist, slam her to the wall, and make her moan for him like she did yesterday.

Because who gave her the freaking right to barge into his life, ruin his suit, take his finger, moan for him like no one ever, then walk away like he was something to be used, then come back in the form of his f*****g stepsister?

A soft murmuring stirred up amidst the crowd, and Zavian glanced between Isadora and Damian. His brows furrowed, and from the look in his eyes, he could tell they had either had an encounter or she had previously annoyed Damian. He and his brothers were sworn enemies. Of course, he knew every look.

The room turned chaotic as everyone began to throw each other subtle side glances, asking why Damian wasn’t taking Isadora’s hand.

“Isadora darling…” Mr. Dolgedo called, bringing her attention to his. “Ignore your brother. He is cold and knows nothing about family. You both will get along, okay?”

Isadora nodded her head gently, sparing Mr. Dolgedo a smile before finally taking a seat next to Zavian.

Damian’s fist curled, the hair at the back of his neck prickling from watching her sit close to Zavian.

What now? After taking his finger and moaning his name like some slutty bad girl, she was suddenly going to act like she was some good saint?

The sight of his brother infuriated him, but the sight of her exchanging conversation with his brother infuriated him most.

Isadora’s skin burned from the weight of his glare. She could tell that he was staring at her with those hot grey eyes of his and God, so help her, because the hair on her skin crawled and every inch of her body prickled with a desire she couldn’t express.

Her heart thrummed in both fear and want. This cannot happen. She cannot let their relationship surge up from here or she would just be some meat for her mother to skin alive.

The weight of his gaze softened, not because he stopped glaring, but because other business partners were walking in, and the conversation from Mr. Dolgedo and them reduced the tension in the air.

“Able Mr. Dolgedo,” A business partner praised, and Mr. Dolgedo exchanged handshakes with them, wearing a bright smile.

“Meet my wife…” he introduced with a brighter smile, pulling Mrs. Margaret closer to him by the waist.

Mr. Nelson, one of the business partners, ran a brief glance over Mrs. Margaret, then leaned into Mr. Dolgedo and said, “Finally! You have gotten your lover back, huh?”

The smile on their faces widened. “Absolutely…” he declared with an excitement Damian so damn wanted to ruin.

He had never been an advocate of his father’s happiness. Because his father had committed too many crimes to ever be happy.

Mrs. Margaret ran her hands around Mr. Dolgedo’s chest, claiming her spot without saying a word. Yes! After so many f*****g years, she had claimed her right back and now owned the man that had always been hers.

Conversation flattered and everyone settled into their chair, but Isadora couldn’t help but think about Mr. Nelson’s words.

So her mother didn’t just marry Mr. Dolgedo by coincidence? They had been preparing for this moment all along?

Her chest clamped, conflicted by the thoughts of her father and the way her body crawled with so much desire for a man she should now call brother.

Silence settled into the air after the introduction, and Isadora just picked at her food.

The number of eyes on her was imposingly frightening.

Her grip on her cutler tightened, and while everyone was smiling and conversing, she just buried her gaze in her food, unwilling to meet their gaze.

“Are you okay?” Zavian leaned in, his brows arched.

She blinked back, startled. “I… I am… of course.”

“You do not seem fine. Are you bothered?”

“Bothered? Maybe by the taste of the food. Aside from that… I am absolutely good.”

“Taste of the food?” Zavian stared down at his plate for some seconds.

“You should have mine,” he declared, but before Isadora could counter, he had already swapped the plate.

“We… we are having the same meal,” Isadora stuttered, and he spared her a smile.

“I know… but maybe something is wrong with yours.”

A soft sigh escaped her lips, then she let out a breathy, “Thank you.”

Damian clamped his grip around his fork, his eyes blazing hot.

For the first time in his life, he wanted to get on his feet, grab his brother’s plate, throw it across the room, then have her eat his own food.

But wasn’t this a scene already? Wasn’t this whole marriage thing a scene? And wasn’t her appearance in his life as his stepsister already a scene?

His jaws clamped, and he shoved meat harder into his mouth, making sure she saw the rage that compelled that action.

Isadora hemmed softly, dragging her seat backward. “I… I need to use the restroom…” she whispered to Zavian and bolted out before he could propose to follow her.

When she got out of the venue, she leaned back against the door, letting out an exhale she knew so damn well she had been holding before finally making her way to the all-guest restroom.

Isadora stood in front of the mirror, glaring at the reflection of herself that the mirror gave back.

Her grip on the marble tightened, and she let out another deep exhale.

This can’t be happening. Damian. Zavian. None of them can be happening.

She was still trying to believe that the guy who had finger-f****d her p***y in ways no one ever could was her stepbrother, and worst of all, the other brother, who he seemed not to have a proper relationship with, had kissed her—and she had enjoyed it.

No. She exhaled, turning the tap and splashing some water against her face to clear her thoughts.

Seconds later, she made her way out of the restroom, ready to leave before one of the brothers came to find her.

But the moment she stepped out, her legs faltered and she stopped in her tracks, staring at her world’s biggest scar.

Her heart skipped, and a flicker of fear seeped into her.

“Hello… niece…” Mr. Armstrong grinned, taking a drag from the cigarette in his hand.

Isadora took a step backward, disgust and fear curling around her breath.

Her heart clamped. And she recognized that grin. It was the same one he had years back when he had r***d her and made her look like the villain before her mother.

The pain of the past rushed back, like it was still fresh. Because it still and forever will be.

She suppressed a swallow, glaring at the hands that held the cigarette. It was the same hand that plunged into her p***y. It was the same hand that f****d her p***y so hard until she was bleeding. It was the same hand that clamped tightly around her mouth and muffled her scream till she passed out, and those hands were the same hands that slapped her face hard when she tried reporting to her very nonchalant mother.

Tears stung the back of her eyes as the images came flooding in. She had never had intentions to kill, but with him….

Day by f*****g day, she had prayed to get a degree in law so she could bend the law to her will and have everyone who ever wronged her pay for their sins. But until then, she had one duty, and it was to get her life together, even if it meant dying under her mother’s control.

Mr. Armstrong took a step closer with a crooked smile on his face.

“Still scared of me?”

Isadora took another backward step. Yes! She was! She was still scared of him. Not just because he r***d her countless times and made her a f*****g horny b***h, but because he twisted every story in his favor till she became the villain and no longer the victim.

The pain lodged against her chest, and tears prickled the back of her eyes, but she was determined not to let it slide.

“Do you miss me?” Armstrong asked with an arched brow, taking a step closer while taking another drag from his cigarette and puffing the smoke into her face.

“Stay away…” Isadora said, taking another step backward

“And if I don’t…”

His words trailed off as the door to the restroom hallway opened and Damian stepped in.

“Are you harassing her?”

The sound of his thick voice filled the air and they both turned in his direction.

Isadora’s breath hitched at the sight of him. Her stomach fluttered, and she hurriedly looked away.

Damn it! He was the last person she wanted to see right now, but the look on her uncle’s face told her that he was the only person who could save her.

And for whatever reason, she loved the cowering sight of her uncle.

“My niece and I were… were just chatting…” Mr. Armstrong forced the word, but Damian gave no reply. He just stood still, hands buried in his pocket, while his cold eyes gave every command his mouth could have.

Armstrong spared Isadora a fake forced smile before walking away. He couldn’t afford to get into Damian’s trouble. Dude was young yet too powerful.

The moment the door clicked, a feeling of relief settled into her.

But her heart still thrummed because he was trouble himself, but at least he didn’t r**e her.

She cleared her throat, unsure what to say, but she said it regardless. “Hello, stepbrother.”

Damian’s brows arched in astonishment and he stood, stunned for some seconds before an invisible smile formed at the corner of his lip.

Silence settled between them for some seconds before he finally took a step forward.

His head tilted, and he held her gaze before giving a reply in his deep, gravelly voice.

“That’s not the perfect greeting for a man whose fingers you have c*m on… Isa.”