Wanting My Step-Daddy

Julian's Pov

No way this is happening.

Is this some kind of twisted karma the universe is playing on me? The same woman I had rescued from a bar and almost slept with is standing in front of me, being introduced as my fiancée's daughter. It was hard to believe.

She stood in front of me, her electric blue eyes still wide in shock and disbelief. It was clear she recognized me and was doing a terrible job trying to hide it. Finally glancing at my outstretched hand, she pursed her lips and took it, not giving any response.

Her hands were small and soft against mine, and I felt her flinch, electricity zapping through us at the contact. Pulling away a moment quicker, I glanced back at Clarissa.

"Wow... She is a beautiful lady. I didn't expect her to be so grown," I said in a steady voice, putting some needed distance between us as I took several steps back.

"Oh... Did I fail to mention that?" Clarissa said with a chuckle, reaching to wrap her hands around my arm as she stood beside me. "Well, she is. She just moved in recently. Had some trouble at work and needed to lay low for a bit," Clarissa explained, a genial smile on her face.

Ivy's gaze moved from me to her mother's, and her eyes narrowed, filled with anger and contempt. She was yet to say a word.

"Have... you told her about the engagement?" I asked when the silence became unsettling. Clarissa nodded, beaming at me before turning to her daughter.

"Yes, I have. She's quite happy for me," she said, giggling as she rested her forehead on my arm, and I stiffened as I turned back to Ivy. That didn't look like the expression of a daughter happy for her mother. I cleared my throat, making to speak.

"As you already know, I am Julian Ashford, and I'm engaged to marry your mother. I hope I can receive your blessings," I said with a tight smile. She glared at me, a muscle ticking in her jaw.

"When is the wedding?" she suddenly asked, her voice curt.

"Um, soon. We're yet to pick a date."

She glanced at the both of us yet again. "Good. I'm happy for you." Turning around, she started to leave the room. "I'm going out."

"No, you aren't," Clarissa immediately shot out, running to reach her. "We're having dinner together, remember?" she asked, reaching for her hands. Ivy jerked her hands away, narrowing her gaze.

"I don't like what the chef whipped up," she forced through clenched teeth, her voice thick with loathing. Throwing a sideways glance at me, she added, "I'm sure you would enjoy your intimate time together. Now, if you'll excuse me..." Her voice trailed off as she exited the living room, her steps hurried as she climbed up the stairs. We stood there in surprise, watching her go.

She returned a while later, already having a change of clothes, her dark hair flying across her shoulders as she rushed out of the house, slamming the door behind her a bit too loud. Clarissa turned to me, an embarrassed smile on her face as she made her way towards me.

"She always had a rebellious streak to her, but she'll fall in line eventually," she said as she stood in front of me. I glanced at the door she had just stepped out from, then at Clarissa.

"That's Edward's daughter, right?" I asked, and she nodded, letting out a sigh as she rubbed her arms. The weight on my chest became heavier. I had almost slept with my dead best friend's daughter. Oh God.

"Was it hard raising her?" I asked carefully, watching as the expression on Clarissa's face contorted into one of sadness.

"Well, it wasn't going to be easy, now was it?" she added with a dry chuckle. "But I did struggle for a bit."

"You did your best. She seems to have turned out fine," I muttered, and she beamed up at me.

"Really? I'm glad you think so."

A comfortable silence settled between us as Clarissa looked at everything but me. Eventually, she managed a peek, a light flush staining her cheeks. "You're staying for dinner, right?" she asked almost hesitantly.

I nodded, placing my hands into my pockets. "Yes. There are very important things we need to discuss," I said, feeling tension creep into my system. She straightened as well, the ease in her features disappearing.

"It's about your money laundering activities disguised as charity. The man you're working for now is the man I've been hunting down for decades," I announced, and she stiffened, her face blanching.

"H-he is?" she stuttered. I nodded, my voice grim.

"Yes. I believe he's the one responsible for Edward's death," I announced, and the atmosphere thickened. I heard Clarissa swallow.

"Oh... Please, have a seat."

.

.

.

The conversation was long and heavy, and by the time we got to the end, I was already exhausted. As one might have expected, the marriage wasn't borne out of love or commitment but of duty. I had dedicated the past two decades of my life to finding the people responsible for my best friend's death and bringing them to justice, and was down to my last victim.

Unfortunately, I had found out that he had ties with Clarissa, and further investigations made me discover she was Edward's mistress and mother to his only daughter and heir. Knowing the operation would put both of them at risk, I found Clarissa and offered to protect them. She had offered the deal of marriage, pending the time I would be done with the operation. We would live as husband and wife.

What I hadn't counted on was almost sleeping with the said daughter. Well, I was glad I held back that night, or else I would be regretting it right now. Speaking of her-where the hell was Ivy? She had stepped out all day, and it was already evening. I hoped she wasn't drinking herself to stupor. Once the marriage documents were finalized, I would begin to keep an eye on her.

Deciding to wait for her, I took a bottle of premium wine from a rack, pouring myself a glass and seating at the barstool provided. Long minutes passed, dusk became twilight, and Ivy hadn't resurfaced. Clarissa tried to wait as well but had to retire early. Ivy didn't return home until past midnight.

She sauntered in, reeking of alcohol and sweat-but thankfully, no sex smell. I didn't know why that made me feel relieved. Standing at the door, I watched as she drunkenly made her way in, still holding a bottle of whiskey, slurring a tune. She stiffened when she felt a presence, her eyes slowly moving up to meet mine. The drunken haze in her eyes cleared when she realized who it was, a frown framing her lips.

"You're still here?" she asked, hiccuping.

"Yes, I was waiting for you," I muttered in a calm voice. "You're late." I growled. She hissed, trying to walk past me.

"Don't need to do that. Get... out of my way." She growled, already close. She tripped over herself and I caught her just before she planted her face to the ground. She slapped me with her free hand. My head whipped to the side, the side of my cheek burning with the sting.

"Get. Your. Dirty. Hands. Off. Me."