My Mother's Husband Is My Sugar daddy

Chapter 16

Dangerous Tension

The late afternoon sun poured through the tall windows of Francis’ mansion, casting warm amber light across the marbled floors and brushing Adriana’s bare thighs as she walked barefoot through the hallway. She had chosen the tiniest pair of shorts she owned, a denim, frayed at the edges and paired with a silk robe that barely clung to her shoulders. Her lips were glossed, eyes wide and playful, and she wore the scent Francis once said reminded him of spring rain.

He was in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove when she found him. He was dressed in his usual tailored slacks and a dark button-up. The top buttons were undone, just enough to expose a glimpse of his collarbone. Luci has left for the spa.

"Mmm... that smells delicious," she purred, stepping inside, one leg casually brushing the door frame, her robe slipping down to expose her shoulder.

Francis turned, startled. "Adriana," he said carefully, eyes blinking for just a second to the pale skin at her collarbone before quickly darting away. Francis looked up, a bit startled. “Adriana… I thought you went out. You’re home early."

She smiled coyly. “Changed my mind.”

He nodded slowly and returned to his cooking. But her presence was impossible to ignore. She walked toward him, pretending to fix her robe, letting it slip just enough to expose her shoulder. She perched on the kitchen table, leaning in to glance at the pot. Her bare thigh brushed his foot.

Francis tensed. “Do you need something?”

“I was bored.” Her voice was soft and sweet. “Mum is not home, and you’re here. Figured I’d come to keep you company.”

He tried not to look at her directly. “You should go rest or maybe go out. I’m sure your friends—”

“They’re not you,” she cut in sharply.

"I mean, mum's out, right? I thought we could keep each other company. You cook, I... supervise."

She moved closer, deliberately brushing his arm as she reached for a glass in the cabinet. Her hip grazed his side.

Francis took a measured breath. "Where do you want this supervision to happen? From the other side of the room, maybe?"

She laughed lightly. "Don't be so stiff. I’m just playing. You act like you’re scared of me or something."

He didn’t respond to that. Instead, he focused on stirring the sauce, his jaw tense.

Adriana lingered, pretending to scroll through her phone. She tilted the screen toward him. "Ooh, this one’s cute, right?" she asked, showing him a photo she had just snapped. It was her, smiling sweetly with the pot of food in the background. Just behind her, blurry but unmistakably visible was Francis.

"Adriana," he said, voice sharp now. "Stop."

She blinked, feigning innocence. "Stop what? Taking harmless pictures? Don’t be so dramatic."

"It’s not just the pictures," he said, setting the spoon down with a clatter. "It's how you dress around me. The way you... talk. I don't think you realize how inappropriate this all is."

"So now it's my fault?" she snapped, dropping the playfulness. "Maybe you shouldn’t look at me like that if you're so uncomfortable."

He stepped back, visibly shaken. "Look at you like what? Adriana, I don't... I don't look at you. Not like that."

She stepped forward, refusing to let him gain distance. Her voice cracked a little. "You think I don't see it? The way you used to smile when I joked with you. The way you’d buy me things, defend me when Mum got mad. Now suddenly I’m the villain?"

He raised a hand. "That's not what's happening here."

"Then tell me what is happening!" Her voice rose. "You made me feel seen. You made me feel wanted."

Francis looked horrified. "Adriana. You're just a child."

That word child made her face twist. She turned away, silent tears sliding down her cheeks.

Francis took a breath, trying to calm himself. "Listen to me, honey. I love your mother. This—this cannot happen. I need you to understand that."

"You love her," Adriana said, choking out a laugh. "Then why do you keep letting me get close? Why don't you push me away when I touch you? When I lean in?"

He was silent.

She faced him fully now, her expression raw. "I walk around this house, invisible. She doesn't notice me., you did. You made me feel like I mattered."

He shut his eyes. "Adriana you’re important to us, and I love you like my daughter. It was not my intention to give off the wrong impression; I was only trying to be a good dad."

"But it was mine," she whispered.

“You are her daughter.”

“I’m not a child.”

“You’re only eighteen, Adriana. That’s—”

“Old enough to know what I want.”

He shook his head, stepping away. “This can’t happen. You’re confused.”

She followed him. “I’m not confused, I’ve never been more sure about anything. You made me feel seen. I don’t even remember what it feels like to have someone look at me like I matter… until you.”

Her voice cracked, and for a moment, something real and painful broke through the surface of all the teasing, all the seductive games.

Francis turned around. “That’s not love, Adriana. That’s loneliness and I get it. But this isn’t the way.”

“I hate her.” The words spilt out before she could stop them.

Francis looked stunned.

Adriana's voice dropped to a whisper. “She never saw me. Not really. And now, she has you and I have nothing.”

His expression softened with sympathy, but the tension in the air remained.

He moved closer, about to speak but she reached for him. Her fingers brushed his wrist.

He didn’t pull back.

She looked into his eyes, and something desperate rose in her. “Please don’t walk away.”

Francis swallowed, and the breath between them grew heavier. Her face was too close, her lips parted, and his hand rose almost instinctively to her arm.

And then he pulled away.

“Don’t do this,” he said quietly. “Don’t become someone you’ll hate.”

Adriana stood still, shaking. “I already do.”

He walked out, leaving her alone.

Her face twisted into a snarl of pain and fury. She stormed up to her room, slammed the door, and collapsed on the bed.

On her bedside table, her phone lit up. A selfie from earlier of her in short shorts, robe hanging off, Francis blurred in the background, showed. She stared at it and saved it to her private folder.

Later that night, Francis found Luci in the living room, curled up with a book. Her smile lit up when she saw him, and for a moment, his guilt threatened to crush him.

"Hey," she said. "Are you okay? You look off."

He hesitated. "It’s Adriana. I... I think she’s been acting a little strange."

Luci chuckled. "Strange? She's a teenager; they are all strange; you said that yourself."

"No, I mean—" He paused. "It’s hard to explain. She’s been different around me. The way she dresses, the things she says."

Luci waved a hand. "Oh, come on. She has always been dramatic. You know how she is, I don’t think she means anything by it."

Francis wanted to press, but her relaxed tone made him hesitate.

"Maybe you’re right," he muttered.

She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "You're overthinking again, relax. She's probably just looking for attention. Give her space."

The next day, Adriana sat on the staircase, legs folded beneath her, robe barely tied. She watched Francis move through the hallway, her eyes fixed on every little gesture.

She pulled out her phone and snapped a quick selfie. He was walking behind her, blurry in the background, unaware.

She uploaded it instantly. My favourite view, she captioned it. Ten minutes later, Francis confronted her.

"Take it down," he said sharply.

"Why? It's my page, my house."

"That picture is inappropriate. You know it."

"Then maybe you shouldn’t have walked behind me like that," she replied, her tone ice.

He looked at her, incredulous. "You really don't see a problem with any of this, do you?"

"The only problem I see is you pretending you don't want me."

He stepped back as if slapped.

She stood and walked toward him slowly. "I see it in your eyes. You look at me and you don't know what to do. It's okay, I can help you figure it out."

He turned his back on her.

"No. Enough. You're confused, and this stops now."

She grabbed his arm.

"Don't walk away from me again."

He faced her, eyes cold. "I love your mother. And you’re acting like a child."

She broke down, and her composure crumbled.

"Why does everyone keep saying that? I'm not a child! I'm not!"

Her voice cracked, and her lip trembled. "I just want to be loved. I want to be seen."

Francis softened slightly. "Adriana..."

She took a desperate step forward and in a flash, she kissed him. It wasn’t long, but it was electric, forbidden, and dangerous.

He pulled back like he had touched fire. "No," he breathed. "No."

He turned and walked out of the room without looking back.

Adriana was left behind, heart pounding, breath shaking, a dark smile creeping across her lips. She whispered to the empty room, "Now he knows. He knows what he’s been trying to deny."