My Best friend's Father Made Me His Mistress

4

Adonis Praxis Edward.

Really?

Seeing her high school love dancing with another female is what her pushes over the edge? These damn college students and their misplaced priorities.

Once I saw her at the edge of my pool, I started dragging my shirt over my head. I didn't think I’d rattled her badly enough to send her spiralling, but apparently I’ve underestimated how fragile this worm really is. She’s young. Perhaps, too young to stomach the kind of heat men usually get from me without cracking in the first phase.

Well, I’ve seen men piss themselves, break down sobbing, snort blood out of their noses when I’m done questioning them.

I don’t even have time to curse before she drops into the water.

By the time I dive in and drag her out, her body is frighteningly limp in my arms. Visibly cold.

That’s not the only visible thing. Her skirt has bundled-up around her waist so I am looking at her thighs.

They're milk-white and scattered with those little rust-colored freckles.

I don’t pay attention to it. I look at her face instead to see if she’s breathing. Good, she is.

It’s Miami, but it’s snowing to the shards. Water runs off us in sheets as I haul her up, in a bridal carry I never intend to repeat.

This is the first time I’ve ever had to investigate or threaten a literal college student.

I lower her onto the concrete, tilt her head back, part her lips with mine, and force air into her lungs. My palms press against her sternum. I’ve done CPR more times than I can count, and I know her pulse is still there.

So she’s coming back to me whether she wants to or not.

On the third cycle, she jerks, sputtering and coughing up pool water. She folds over, gripping the tiles as she vomits what’s left. Her hair sticks to her face in wet strands and I get up away from the mess.

After a long minute, she lifts her small head to look at the monster that is me. She's on all fours. Her knees are wide but I don’t think she realizes that I can see her underwear. Pink cotton panties, tight across her ass.

Each breath she takes makes them tremble. I turn my face away and I do not look at it.

“You want to die that bad?” I growl, to frost over the air between us. “Then go jump in front of a moving bus. But don’t do it in my damn pool.”

As soon as I say it, I notice how cold she is in the soaked clothes, red rimmed watering eyes, lips trembling. She’s terrified.

The arrogant side of me, the part that is pure Adonis, wants to say more. To dissect her pathetic reason for jumping into the water but I bite the words back. Considering the drastic step she’s already taken, what worse might she do if I said my mind?

“Get up.”

She wraps her arms around herself. Snow on Christmas Eve that’s what she looks like.

I don’t expect her to walk anywhere like this. Hell, she can barely stand. So I step closer, and the moment my shadow touches her, she squeezes her eyes shut and stumbles back with a squeal.

“I’m sorry—please don’t—”

She’s panicking again but I don’t give her time to spiral. I just hook an arm under her knees, another behind her back, and lift her clean off the ground. She tenses so violently I feel it through her soaked clothes, but I don’t loosen my hold.

I carry her toward the far wing. It’s the one I use for meetings when I have guests and conversations that I don’t want near my children. It’s the perfect place, because I need to talk to the worm. I need to make damn sure something like tonight never happens again.

As I walk in, the sensory lights come on one by one. Soft pools of gold bloom along the floor. When I reach the first sitting room, I set her down in the center of it. She still won’t open her eyes, probably convinced I brought her here to punish her.

I leave her only long enough to get what she needs. A towel. A thick sweater. A robe. I come back and set everything in front of her.

“You need to change out of those clothes. Use the towel to dry off. Then put on the sweater and the robe.”

Her eyes open.

“Go in there and change.” I tilt my head toward the side door.

She hesitates.

“Now.”

That gets her moving.

I drag off my own soaked shirt and wipe down with the spare towel I grabbed. I toss the shirt aside and walk to the bar built into the corner. I pour myself something expensive but it doesn’t settle anything.

She comes out right as my lips hit the ice at the bottom of my glass. Her hair is a little drier now, though still clinging to her pale face. Hmm, it’s long…longer than I realized when it was plastered to her in the water.

I leave the bar and step into the light so she can see me when I speak.

“Sit.”

She obeys instantly like a reprimanded child.

“I’m sorry, sir… I won’t do that again.”

I laugh, not because it’s funny, but because of how predictable it is.

“Another lie. You lie a lot, Maddison.”

“Sir, please.” She slips off the couch and drops to her knees in front of me. The moment she does, something pokes in my chest. Her on her knees, pleading like that hits somewhere darker than I want to admit. I blink it away. Must be the alcohol warming my blood, because desire is the last thing, I should be feeling right now especially because I don’t know this girl.

“Get up.” I say.

But she shakes her head. “Sir, please don’t hurt me. I… I don’t know what I was thinking when I jumped—”

“Since you clearly don’t know how to think, I will do it for you. I need you alive and not dead so your brothers have a reason to surface. Henceforth, you will have a job. You will continue your studies. Both will keep you occupied and under observation. Estella will have a complete report on your movements in the house. And outside this house, I’ll have someone follow you constantly. You won’t so much as breathe in the wrong direction without me knowing.”

She opens her mouth weakly.

“Did your brothers ask you to sacrifice yourself? You love them so much you’d rather kill yourself than let me use you as leverage?”

“That’s not—”

“I won’t have cops showing up at my house during New Year’s because some girl drowned herself. Lie to me again, Maddison, and I will find your brothers. And I will make sure they go before you. Now, get off your knees. Go to your room. Sleep. We are done here.” I say, checking the time on my watch.

It’s already Christmas. The exact stroke of midnight.

As she gets up from marble floor and hurries out. The whole house ignites. The hundreds of snowy Christmas trees I had Estella source from Portugal hundreds all light up. From every window, every pillar, every terrace and the outside of the house dazzles with cold blue-white.

From several meters away, anyone can see the display that Edwards know how to show wealth during the holidays. I wasn’t planning on dealing with a trembling college girl on Christmas but here we go.