Daddy's Girl: Raised To Please Him

Chapter 4

Alan stormed into his office at the mansion, slamming the door behind him. His chest heaved, his jaw locked tight, and his hands flexed at his sides as if trying to contain the surge of emotions threatening to consume him.

She was driving him mad.

The scent of her-soft, warm, and maddeningly familiar-lingered in his mind like a ghost. The way her voice curled through the air, calm yet defiant, set his nerves on fire. And her eyes... those eyes that seemed to hold a thousand secrets.

Alan raked a hand through his hair, growling under his breath.

He couldn't stand it.

This wasn't him. He was a man of discipline and control. He had built his reputation on being unshakable, untouchable. Yet somehow, she had found a way past his defenses without even trying.

He paced the room like a caged animal, his thoughts tangled in a web of frustration and longing. Every time he got close to her, his body betrayed him. His pulse quickened, his skin burned, and he wanted-no, needed-to touch her.

But he couldn't.

It wasn't just wrong; it was dangerous. Sydney was a mystery, and mysteries always came with risks.

Alan avoided Sydney for most of the day, burying himself in paperwork and meetings. But the effort to ignore her only made things worse.

Every sound she made-the light tread of her footsteps, the quiet hum of her voice as she passed by-set him on edge. He hated how attuned he was to her, how she seemed to occupy every corner of his mind without even trying.

By evening, his frustration had reached its peak. He stood in the library, staring at the same document for the past ten minutes, his eyes unfocused and his thoughts elsewhere.

Sydney, on the other hand, had spent the day trying to keep her distance. Alan's mood was impossible to ignore, and she wasn't foolish enough to poke the bear.

But as the day stretched into the evening, she found herself lingering near the library, her curiosity getting the better of her.

When she peeked inside, she found him standing near the window, his back to her, his posture tense.

"Alan, Sir?" she called softly, stepping inside.

He turned sharply, his dark eyes narrowing at her intrusion. "What do you want?" he snapped.

Sydney flinched but held her ground. "I just... I wanted to see if you were okay."

His lips curled into a bitter smile. "Do I look like I need your concern?"

She folded her arms, her own irritation rising. "No, but you look like you've been chewing on glass all day. Maybe if you stopped sulking, you'd feel better."

Alan stared at her, caught off guard by her bluntness. For a moment, he didn't know whether to laugh or yell.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he said coldly, turning back to the window.

"You're right," she said, her voice softer now. "I don't. But whatever's bothering you, taking it out on everyone else won't help."

He stiffened, her words cutting deeper than he wanted to admit.

"You don't have to keep everything bottled up, you know," she said softly.

Alan turned around slowly, his dark eyes narrowing, sharp as a blade. His steps were deliberate as he moved closer, closing the space between them. She stiffened, unsure whether to hold her ground or flee.

"You wouldn't want to know what's happening with me," he said, his voice a low, dangerous rasp. He stopped inches from her, his towering presence making her pulse race. "Because if you did, Sydney..."

He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her ear, his words deliberate and heavy with tension.

"You might find yourself on this table..." He let his gaze flick toward the large mahogany desk in the center of the room before locking his eyes back on hers, his voice dropping even lower. "Screaming my name."

Sydney's breath hitched, her heart slamming against her ribcage as his words sank in. His intensity was suffocating, his proximity overwhelming, and for a moment, the air between them crackled with something dark and electric.

But just as quickly as it came, Alan straightened, stepping back with an almost cruel smirk tugging at his lips. "Still curious?"

Sydney took a step toward the door, her voice unsteady as she whispered, "Good night." She didn't dare look back, her mind spinning with the weight of their exchange. But before she could take another step, his hand shot out, fingers curling firmly around her wrist.

The sudden contact sent a jolt through her, and she froze, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, she turned her head, meeting his gaze. His eyes were dark, stormy, filled with something she couldn't quite place-frustration? Desire? Both?

"You don't get to walk away like that," Alan said, his voice low and dangerously controlled. His grip wasn't rough, but it held her in place, a silent demand for her attention.

She stared at him, her heart racing. "Alan... what are you doing?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling under the weight of his intensity.

He took a step closer, closing the distance between them, his face now mere inches from hers. "You think I don't notice, Syd?" he murmured, his tone both sharp and maddeningly soft. "The way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention? The way you avoid me like you're scared of what might happen if you don't?"

Her lips parted, but no words came out. The air between them felt charged, crackling like a live wire.

His grip on her wrist loosened slightly, his thumb brushing against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. "I can't stop thinking about you," he admitted, his voice raw, almost pained. "And it's driving me mad."

Sydney's breath hitched, her entire body betraying her as heat surged through her. She tried to pull her wrist free, but his touch held her in place, firm but careful.

"This... this isn't right," she stammered, though her resolve felt like it was crumbling under his gaze.

His lips curled into a faint, bitter smile, and he let out a low, humorless laugh. "You think I don't know that? You think I haven't been fighting this every damn day?"

She looked away, her cheeks burning, her chest tight with a mixture of emotions she couldn't untangle. "Let me go," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

For a moment, he didn't move, the silence stretching unbearably between them. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he released her wrist, his hand lingering in the air for just a second longer before falling to his side.

"Good night, Sydney," he said, his voice rough and strained, as though each word cost him something.

She didn't look back as she hurried out of the room, her heart pounding so hard it echoed in her ears. Once inside her bedroom, she leaned against the door, her wrist tingling where his hand had been.

Her breath came in shallow gasps, her mind racing with the memory of his words, his touch, his gaze. She pressed her hand to her chest, trying to calm the storm raging inside her, but it was no use.

She didn't know what this was between them-this strange, overwhelming pull-but she knew one thing for sure: it terrified her.

Sydney bolted into her room, closing the door softly behind her as if the act would quiet the chaos inside her mind. She leaned against the door, her wrist still tingling where Alan had held her. It wasn't just his words or the way his eyes had burned into hers-it was the way her body had reacted, the warmth that spread through her, confusing and uninvited.

She pressed her hand to her chest, trying to steady her erratic breathing. Why? Why did her heart race like this when he looked at her? Why did his touch feel electric, lingering long after it ended?

Her fingers brushed absentmindedly over the spot on her wrist, and her stomach twisted. This wasn't right. None of it made sense. Alan was... Alan. Her mother's husband. The one who was supposed to stay at arm's length. And yet, there had been something unspoken between them tonight, something that made her feel like the ground beneath her was shifting.

Across the mansion, Alan stood in the dimly lit hallway, staring at the empty space where Sydney had been just moments before. His hand flexed at his side as if he could still feel the smoothness of her skin against his palm.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

He was supposed to be in control, always calm, always calculating. But tonight, the composure he prided himself on had shattered the moment she tried to walk away. Her scent, her voice, the way she looked at him-it all left him restless, unmoored.

Alan's jaw tightened as he paced toward the study, his thoughts a storm he couldn't quell. She was just Sydney. His stepdaughter, for God's sake. He shouldn't be noticing how her lips parted when she was startled or how the curve of her neck caught the soft light of the room.

And yet...

He exhaled sharply, gripping the back of a leather chair as if it could ground him. There was something about her-something that felt maddeningly familiar, yet entirely out of reach.

Alan thought back to the one night years ago, the one he tried to forget but never truly could. The faceless woman with the intoxicating scent, the one who'd burned herself into his memory. He shook his head, trying to dismiss the ridiculous notion that kept creeping into his mind. It couldn't be her. That was impossible.

But the way Sydney made him feel-the pull, the heat, the maddening tension-was exactly the same.

Sydney, meanwhile, curled into her bed, burying her face in the pillow in frustration. Her mind drifted to the faceless man from her dream, the one who had haunted her since that night years ago. She couldn't understand why, but something about Alan's presence tonight had stirred memories she thought she'd locked away.

As the night stretched on, they both lay awake in their separate rooms, consumed by their thoughts. Neither of them wanted to admit it-not to themselves, not to anyone else-but they were both grappling with the same truth: Something between them had shifted, and neither knew how to make sense of it.

The tension in the mansion was suffocating as the days dragged on. Sydney and Alan continued their quiet avoidance of each other, both of them trapped in the whirlwind of confusion and longing that neither could fully comprehend. They moved around each other like two planets in an orbit, always close but never truly touching, the space between them filled with something unspoken, undeniable.

Sydney found herself spending more time in the library, the one place in the mansion where she could pretend to escape the chaos of her mind. The books, once an escape, now felt like an anchor to the confusion swirling in her head. Every time she opened a page, her thoughts wandered back to Alan-the way his breath had felt against her ear, the way his touch had ignited something deep within her that she wasn't ready to confront.

But the escape she was seeking was fleeting. She couldn't avoid the storm brewing between them forever.

It was late afternoon when the front door opened with a creak, signaling the return of Euri. Sydney's heart gave a small jolt at the sound, a mix of relief and dread knotting in her stomach. Euri's presence always brought a certain stability to the house, but today, Sydney could sense that things were different. There was an undercurrent of tension in the air that even her mother's calm demeanor couldn't dispel.

Euri stepped into the hallway, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floors as she moved toward the staircase. Alan appeared in the doorway of his office as if summoned by the sound of his wife's arrival. His expression was unreadable, but there was a noticeable shift in his posture-like he was trying to shake off something that had been weighing on him.

"Euri," Alan greeted, his voice colder than usual.

"Alan," Euri replied, her tone clipped. She glanced past him, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Everything all right?"

Alan hesitated, then nodded, the tension in his shoulders betraying his calm demeanor. "Just busy with work. You know how it is."

Euri's eyes flicked toward the stairs, a silent question in her gaze. "Sydney?"

"Library," Alan said shortly, turning his attention back to his papers. "She's been up there most of the day."

Euri raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she ascended the stairs, her footsteps soft but deliberate. Sydney could hear her mother's approach, the familiar sound of her presence that had always brought comfort. But today, the comfort felt distant, overshadowed by the electricity in the air between her and Alan.

As Euri entered the library, Sydney looked up from her book, surprised to see her mother standing there. There was a long moment of silence before Euri spoke.

"How was your trip?" Sydney asked, trying to sound normal, but her voice felt strained.

"It was fine," Euri replied curtly, her eyes scanning the room as if searching for something-someone. "You and Alan... are you two getting along?"

Sydney froze. She hadn't expected that question, and the suddenness of it sent a jolt of panic through her chest. "Of course," she said quickly, forcing a smile. "We're fine."

Euri's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary, a sharp, knowing look that sent a shiver down Sydney's spine. "Are you sure about that?"

Sydney's stomach tightened, her mind racing for an answer that wouldn't betray the tension she could barely contain. "We're just... adjusting. It's been quiet around here."

Euri nodded slowly, but there was something in her expression that made Sydney uneasy. "Good. Because there's something off about this place lately. It feels like everything's changing."

Sydney wanted to argue, to say that nothing had changed, that everything was the same as it had always been. But the words felt hollow in her mouth. She could feel the change-could sense the way the air between her and Alan had shifted, the weight of his gaze still fresh in her mind. It was like they were standing on the edge of something, and she didn't know how to stop herself from falling.

Downstairs, Alan was still in his office, sitting at his desk, his fingers drumming restlessly against the polished surface. He hadn't expected to be this affected by Sydney's presence, by the way, her scent lingered in the air long after she left. He tried to focus on the work in front of him, but his thoughts kept drifting back to her-the way she had looked at him, the way her skin had felt when he touched her.

What was it about her? What was it that made him feel this pull, this magnetic force that he couldn't seem to escape?

He clenched his jaw, standing abruptly from his desk. He couldn't stay cooped up in here any longer. He needed to get out, to clear his head, even if just for a moment.

But as he walked down the hallway, he passed by the library and saw Euri standing in the doorway.

Alan stopped in his tracks, a flicker of unease washing over him. Euri was silent for a moment, and then she turned to him. "I'm leaving again for business," Euri said briskly, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "I'll meet your father afterward. You want to come along?"

Alan hesitated for a moment, the weight of the past few days pressing on him like a vice. The tension in the house had only grown, and every time he was near Sydney, his control seemed to slip further. He glanced toward Sydney, sitting quietly in the corner of the room, her presence like a silent challenge.

"I'll come with you," Alan finally replied, his voice flat. "Better to get out of here."

Euri nodded, her sharp eyes briefly meeting his before she turned and walked toward the door. Alan followed her, eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere at the mansion, even if just for a few hours.

The drive to the restaurant was quiet, Euri focused on the road ahead, her mind likely on business, while Alan stared out the window, his thoughts tangled and restless. When they arrived and were seated at the table with his father, the air was thick with the sense of formality, business mingling with family obligation.

Alan's father, a well-dressed man in his late sixties, greeted him warmly, his eyes twinkling as he looked between the two of them. "It's good to see you both," he said with a smile. "We have a lot to discuss. Euri, I trust the business is going well?"

"Of course," Euri replied coolly, her gaze flickering over to Alan. "Everything is progressing as planned. We'll discuss the next steps after tonight."

Alan tried to ignore the undercurrent of tension in the air, focusing instead on the menu, but the conversation quickly shifted in a direction that had his stomach tightening.

"You know," Alan's father continued, a sly smile playing at the corners of his lips, "it's been on my mind lately. Perhaps it's time to think about the next generation. A grandchild would be a great addition to the family."

The words hit Alan like a punch to the gut. His grip on his glass tightened, and his jaw clenched as his father's words sank in. A grandchild. His father had already decided that the next step in their family legacy was a child-one who would carry on the name.

Alan's heart raced with frustration, anger bubbling up inside him. He felt trapped, as if his entire life had been mapped out for him, a series of events dictated by his father's will, with no regard for his own desires. He couldn't stand it.

His voice was low, barely controlled. "Is that so? You think you can just order everything in my life, including that?" Alan's words cut through the air, sharp and cold.

His father raised an eyebrow, but there was no surprise in his expression. "Of course. You have a responsibility, Alan. This marriage-" He paused, glancing at Euri before continuing. "-it was never just about the two of you. There's the family business, the legacy. A child is the next logical step."

Alan's fingers curled into fists under the table. His marriage to Euri had never been a choice for him. It had been a contract, a business agreement to consolidate power, to keep things running smoothly. There had been no romance, no love. Only duty. And now his father expected more from it-an heir, a grandchild, a future he could not control.

Euri sat across from him, her face unreadable, but Alan could feel the shift in the room. Her gaze was calculating, cold. It wasn't just about the business for her. It was about the contract. It always had been.

"You're right," Alan said, his voice biting. "This marriage has been a contract. And once everything is settled, we'll have it annulled. Just as we agreed."

Euri's eyes flickered to him, but her expression remained unchanged. She gave a small nod, confirming the unspoken agreement they had made years ago. Their marriage had never been about love; it had always been a transaction. And once the business was settled, they would part ways.

Alan's father didn't seem surprised by the admission. "An annulment, then," he said, nodding slowly. "You both know your responsibilities, but once business is finished, we'll discuss the future. For now, enjoy the dinner."

The tension in the air was thick as the evening wore on, but Alan couldn't shake the feeling of anger and helplessness. Everything had been decided for him, every choice taken from him. And now, as his father's words echoed in his mind, he realized just how trapped he really was.

As they left the restaurant, Alan walked a few steps ahead, the weight of the conversation pressing on him. Euri followed behind, silent, her thoughts likely already back on the business at hand. And Sydney-his mind drifted to her, to the growing tension between them. It was a mess he didn't know how to untangle, and it was becoming harder to ignore.

Alan wasn't sure what the future held, but one thing was certain: he couldn't escape the web of his family's expectations, no matter how hard he tried. And worse, he wasn't sure if he wanted to.