Claiming My Mother's Husband

There’s A Huge Problem

My mother and I’s relationship wasn't exactly all rainbows and sunshine, in case you haven't noticed.

Hate… hate was a strong word I wouldn't use, but I'll say what we felt for each other was pretty close to that.

But that wasn't the point. The point was that even though she was a shitty mother, she had good taste when it came to her men.

My father… My father was a good-looking man, tall and broad. And all the men she had wasted with since his death were just as handsome, even more.

And as I stared at this man, I realized she had hit the mark with this.

He stood tall, towering over us, with black hair tied in a loose bun, his grey eyes soft, shoulders wide, the black tee he wore hugging his figure and showcasing the muscles.

A voice whispered in my head, “What do you think he’ll look like without those clothes on?”

My eyes widened, and I felt disgusted with myself for having those thoughts.

He was going to be my stepfather, for Christ’s sake! What was wrong with me?

“Oh, honey!” Rana—my mother—gushed as she rushed to his side, her expression and voice totally changing. “I didn't see you come in.

He looked down at her as she moved into his arms. “Yes, you seemed quite… occupied.”

God, his voice…

No, get your s**t together, Vivienne!

Rana chuckled nervously, glancing at me from her side eye as if telling me to behave, even though I did nothing but just stand still. “Yes, it was just a bit of mother and daughter dispute, that's all. And speaking of my daughter…”

She took his hand and led him to me, and I didn't know why, but my body froze. It almost seems like I forgot how to breathe as he got close to me, his attention entirely on me now. His scent wafted to my nose: leather and a spicy note.

“Ken, meet Vivienne,” Rana introduced, her red lips twisted in a smile that screamed fake. “My sweet daughter.”

That snapped me out of my foolish trance, and I turned to her with an eyebrow raised.

Sweet daughter? Me? Vivienne?

Rana gave me a hard look, and I stared back at her, refusing to back down and play whatever game this was.

“Hello, Vivienne.”

Something strange happened to me as I heard him call my name. Something clenched between my legs, something forbidden, something wrong.

It was the way he said my name.

Vi-vi-en-ne.

The way he gave each syllabus attention, like he didn't want to leave any behind. That… that did something to me. And that voice of his…

I turned away from Rana and faced him, our eyes meeting, and I managed a small smile that I knew looked painful.

“H-hello,” I managed.

He held out his hand to me while maintaining eye contact, his eyes intense and sharp, as if they missed nothing and could see through you.

“It's nice to finally put a face to the name. Rana has told me so many things about you.”

She has? Surely it wasn't good things?

I realized his hand was still out, so I placed mine on his, shaking it gently, but as soon as his hand closed around mine, big and warm, calloused like how a real man’s hand should be, I felt a harsh shiver run through me. And I wasn't quick enough to hide it, so Ken noticed.

He raised an eyebrow, and I ripped my hand away, face burning in embarrassment as I turned away from them.

“I-I’ll go get ready!”

I ran up the stairs, asking myself over and over, “What is wrong with you? Huh? What is it?”

But I didn't get the answer.

As soon as I got to my room, my phone rang. When I saw the caller’s ID, my heart skipped a beat. I picked it up immediately.

“Did you see the news?” I said as soon as the call connected.

Aaron cursed. “I did.”

And now the panic was back. “Aaron, we’re done for. I-it’s over. This is the heiress of the Fletcher empire. It's not just–”

“Hey. Hey. Calm down. f**k!”

I bit my lips shut, resting my back on the closed door, biting my thumb.

Aaron sighed, and I could tell he was running his hand through his hair, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I admit, this is going to be rough.” My heart dropped. “This is the Fletcher family we’re talking about here. These people have twice the power my family does.”

My sob was about to burst out, but I held it in. Aaron didn't like it when I got like that.

“But I can assure you that they wouldn't be able to trace it back to us,” Aaron continued, and my knees nearly went out from relief. “I made sure I got rid of every evidence, every single trace. They're only going to hit a dead end if they investigate. You trust me, don't you?”

I nodded quickly, even though he couldn't see me, my breath coming easily now. “I do.”

“Good. Nothing’s going to happen to us. I'll talk to you later.”

I ended the call and stared up at the ceiling, trying to calm my breathing.

When I was finally calm, I quickly freshened up, threw on a black pair of pants and a tee, and left the room without getting my hair done.

When I got back downstairs, the table was already set, with three plates. With food in each. That means there was food in mine.

I stared at Rana, and she stared back, that fake smile still on.

“Come on,” she said. “Sit. We’ve been waiting for you.”

I sat without asking any questions, and that was when I finally noticed Ken’s eyes on me. He was focused on me, his dark eyes roaming.

I looked away first, focusing on my plate.

“So, honey, I decided we should push the wedding to a week from now, instead of two,” Rana said when we were deep into dinner.

I raised my head to see Ken’s reaction, but his face was just as calm as he answered, “Sure.”

Just then, his phone rang, and he had to excuse himself from the table. When he was gone, I turned to Rana and leaned forward, keeping my voice low as I snarled, “A week? Seriously?”

She also leaned in. “Yes, Vivienne. A week. Now get that look off your damn face.”

Just as I was about to say something sharp, Ken walked back into the room, and we pulled back, acting as if nothing happened.

“Sorry about that,” he said as he sat. “It was a call from work.”

“That's fine, honey,” Rana said sweetly, caressing his arm. “I know you’re busy.”

He gave a small smile, reaching out for the salt and knocking over his wallet from the table. It fell close to me, and I bent to pick it up, picking some of the cards that fell out.

One in particular caught my eye: a white card. His ID card.

Fear, unlike any I've ever felt, wrapped around my heart, making it hard to breathe. I gave him back his wallet with a hand that wouldn't stop shaking, and a mouth that’s too ahead of itself as it whispered, “Kenneth Rodgers, Detective, Major Crimes Unit, NYPD.”

He raised an eyebrow, about to say something, when my mother cut in. “Is there a problem, Vivienne?”

Yes, mother. Yes, there’s a huge problem.

But how do I tell her that her soon-to-be husband and my soon-to-be step father was the detective in charge of the murder case I’m involved in?