Eight: Still So Daddy-ish
1563 Words
Gianna
“Are you okay?” Kevin asks, slurping on his smoothie, eyes glued on me.
A nod comes automatically, a smile forced into place. “Yeah.”
He really is a sweetheart. Driving all the way to jerk face’s house, helping me pack what I need, then insisting on taking me out for breakfast. Well, brunch.
McDonald’s buzzes softly around us. He has a smoothie and burgers, while I work on my McFlurries, barely tasting any of it.
“Gia, you’re obviously worried about something,” he says gently. “Does it have anything to do with you telling Dmitry I’m your boyfriend?”
My head shakes on instinct. He’s gotten the rundown, mostly. Everything except the near kiss and the uncomfortable moment in Dmitry’s room that still leaves me feeling like a puddle.
“It’s not that,” I say. Dmitry being an ass is the least of my problems.
Today marks the start of something I’ve been avoiding for months. I’ve officially crossed into being a real cam girl. The boudoir photos I took last night have already been scrutinized by Diane and are probably uploaded by now.
And I’m nowhere near ready. Not even close.
Kevin reaches across the table, fingers wrapping around mine in a comforting, and oddly grounding way.
“I get that being around him is trouble enough,” he says. “That’s why I’m offering to be your fake boyfriend. I can help keep your brother’s best friend off your back for a while.”
A fake boyfriend.
My body shivers at the thought. Telling Dmitry I’m in a relationship is one thing. Pretending to actually be in one is a completely different mess. And Kevin does not deserve to be used like that.
“I can’t do that,” I say quietly, pulling my hand back before I can talk myself out of it. “Kev, I really can’t.”
His brows draw together, confusion flickering across his face. “Why not?”
Because you’re real, I want to say. Because you actually care. Because there’s already too much wrong with me to drag you into it. Because you’re way too good for this.
“You don’t deserve to be dragged into my mess,” I say instead. “This whole thing with Dmitry is complicated and stupid and messy, and I don’t want you caught in the middle.”
Kevin leans back, studying me for a long moment. He doesn’t look hurt. Just thoughtful.
“Gia,” he says gently, “I think you’re getting this wrong.”
I frown. “How?”
“For starters, I’m being selfish,” he admits, lips twitching into a small smile. “This is my one shot at having you to myself, even if it’s fake.”
The words stun me. “Do you even understand what you’re offering?” I ask. “Imagine the headlines if the press finds out.”
“I don’t care,” he says easily. “And honestly, I’m pretty sure I could convince you to turn fake into real before anyone even notices.”
My gaze darts everywhere but his face, guilt settling heavy in my chest.
I will never be with you.
The thought hurts more than I expect.
“I don’t want to use you,” I whisper. “That’s not who I want to be.”
Kevin reaches for my hand again, slower this time, giving me room to pull away. I don’t.
“You wouldn’t be using me,” he says. “You’d be letting me help. There’s a difference.”
I stare at our joined hands, my throat burning.
“And what if he figures it out?” I ask. “What if he doesn’t buy it?”
Kevin shrugs lightly. “Then I deal with it. I don’t mind.”
“You should,” I let out a soft, humorless laugh. “This is my problem, not yours.”
He squeezes my fingers. “I don’t need this to be permanent. I don’t need it to mean more than it does. I just need you safe, and not alone in a house with a man who clearly still gets under your skin.”
I stay quiet. It’s obvious nothing I say will change his mind.
He tilts his head, eyes gentle. “Let me be the buffer. Just for now.”
Every logical part of me screams that this is a terrible idea. But the tired part, the scared part, the part already drowning, clings to the offer. Slowly, I nod.
“Okay,” I say, barely louder than a breath. “But only for a while.”
Kevin smiles, relieved and genuine. “Deal.”
And somehow, instead of feeling safer, my chest feels heavier.
Because the one thing Kevin doesn’t know is that Dmitry Orlov is not the kind of man who lets things go.
And I have a sinking feeling that pretending is only going to make everything worse.
We finish eating quietly, a strange tension settling over the table.
Is this really how we’re supposed to convince Dmitry?
Kevin checks his phone, then looks up at me. “Do you want to head back?”
“Yes,” I say a little too quickly. “I should head back.”
The drive is painfully quiet, broken only by the low hum of the radio. Kevin keeps both hands steady on the wheel while I stare out the window, watching the city blur past.
It’s strange how, until last night, Kevin and I have barely interacted. Well, aside from the little cat-and-mouse games we play.
Now I’m sitting in his front seat.
And he’s my fake boyfriend.
When the gate comes into view, my stomach drops.
Dmitry is already outside, arms crossed, posture rigid, expression unreadable.
Kevin’s grip on the wheel tightens, knuckles turning white. “God,” he mutters. “I really dislike him.”
“That makes two of us,” I whisper, the words catching in my throat. “Just ignore him. He’s basically a bully when you give him attention.”
Kevin lets out a dark chuckle. “He doesn’t acknowledge me, though.”
I don’t respond, my eyes already lurched outside, glued on my ex.
Dmitry’s lips are pressed into a thin, grim line, sharp and unyielding.
Annoyingly, heartbreakingly, I still find him attractive.
“Just… don’t get in his way,” I murmur, fear curling low in my chest.
The car rolls to a stop. Dmitry’s eyes lift almost immediately, locking onto us with unnerving precision.
“Time to meet the bull,” Kevin says under his breath.
We step out of the car. Kevin grabs my bags from the back and carries them up to the porch, his posture straight, his expression polite and carefully neutral.
He’s doing an impressive job of pretending Dmitry doesn’t exist.
“Do you want me to take these to your room?” Kevin asks.
“No,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “It’s fine. I’ve got it.”
Dmitry clears his throat, the sound sharp and deliberate, freezing me mid-step.
“So,” he says, voice low. “You left early.”
“Had to get my things,” I reply, forcing lightness into my tone.
His gaze flicks to Kevin. Then back to me. “With him.”
“Yes,” I say evenly. “He’s my boyfriend, after all.”
Dmitry’s jaw clenches, the muscle jumping like it might crack. “You left the house without a word.”
“I didn’t think I needed to report my movements to you,” I snap.
Something dark flashes in his eyes.
“Funny,” he says quietly. “Last I checked, Gianna, I’m in charge here.”
“Move, Dmitry,” I shoot back, my heart pounding hard enough to break through my ribcage.
He leans in just enough to invade my space. “I’ve always wondered,” he murmurs. “Did Alec know about you and him?”
Before I can answer, Kevin’s arm snakes around my waist, firm and possessive.
“Not exactly,” Kevin says smoothly, smiling in a way that’s all charm and no warmth. “Being the senator’s son has its downsides.”
Dmitry’s gaze drops to Kevin’s hand.
“Go upstairs,” Dmitry says, not looking at me.
It’s not up for debate. I hesitate for half a second, then turn to Kevin, giving him a hug.
Arguing right now feels like lighting a match in a room full of gas.
Futile.
He motions to one of the guards. “Take her things.”
The words follow me as I turn away, climbing the stairs two at a time. I don’t look back.
I don’t want to know what his face looks like when he watches me leave.
My door closes behind me with a soft click.
Only then do I let myself breathe.
I can’t help the smile that catches on my lips. Dmitry hasn’t changed a bit. Still so daddy-ish if that makes any sense, and I cower at every freaking order he gives. Ready to please.
A sharp chime cuts through my thoughts.
I freeze almost immediately. What is that sound?
Just then it rings again, and my eyes land on my phone on the bed.
Stream reminder: 15 minutes.
Shit, how did I f*****g forget?
- Writer
