Nicole Harper

~•~

At first, I thought, what the fuck? What were the odds that the man who kept appearing in my dreams happened to be the man my mom got married to?

Then I thought, WHAT THE FUCK? Did he cheat on her with me? 

That night, I was never really sure who the groom was. If it was his bachelor's party, then he was already engaged yet he fucked me like he didn't care about that. My mom wasn't the best person out there, but that didn't mean she deserved to be cheated on.

"Nikky," my mom said, placing a hand on his chest. "Say hi to Tristan."

My lips parted but words refused to come out. I wasn't sure what to do. If I had anywhere else to go, I would run away immediately. The situation I was in was absolutely insane. Was I supposed to tell my mother what happened? But I couldn't tell her that without revealing that I went stripping. Would she even believe me? Or would she think I was trying to sabotage her marriage?

Tristan stepped forward when I didn't say anything. "Nice to meet you, Nikky."

"Don't call me that," I snapped unintentionally. 

He narrowed his eyes slightly, glanced at my mom then back at me. Was he pretending not to know me? How noble of him. "Nice to meet you, Nicole?"

I gritted my teeth. Was he trying to piss me off on purpose? 

Ignoring my reaction to him, he walked further, trying to take my luggage from me. I stepped away. "I'll carry it in myself."

My mother, oblivious to the tension, or pretending not to care, clapped her hands in delight. "Come in, I'll show you to your room. I took the liberty of decorating it just the way you liked."

I walked over to my mom and didn't look back as she led me inside. I could feel Tristan's stare on my back but I pretended not to notice. The house was huge but I had no time to take it in because I wanted to get to my new room as soon as possible.

Four flights of stairs later, two per level, we arrived at my new room. "You're in between me and Tristan," she explained, pushing the door open.

"You live in separate rooms?"

"He likes his space," she shrugged. Yeah, sure he did. I was sure he used his space to fuck other women, didn't he? "I also prefer to decorate my space however I want. Besides, we have a shared bedroom opposite yours." She nodded at the door opposite the room.

This was such an awkward position to be in. Apart from the fact that I knew the size of her husband's cock, I was also caught in between them physically. Why would she think it was a bright idea to put my room in the middle of theirs? 

I wanted to ask for a different room, but I also didn't want to be a bother.

"Do you like it?"

At her words, I properly focused on the room. My tongue poked the inside of my cheek. The walls were painted pink. Everything in the room was either pink or white. I stopped liking pink a long time ago because of her, but she thought she decorated the room just the way I liked.

I forced a smile, swallowing the actual words I wanted to say to her. "Yes."

"Perfect! Settle in so we can go shopping in the evening."

My brows furrowed in confusion. "Shopping?"

"Yes." She leaned in. "Tristan gave me a black card."

"I'm not spending his money!" I responded which was ironic because my last few months of rent were settled with his money.

"Why? Because he's not your father?" I clenched my teeth at her question. She was the same one who told me two months ago that he couldn't pay my debts because he wasn't my father. "I'm sorry for giving you a deadbeat father, but I've atoned myself with this one, no? Don't be uptight." She held my arm affectionately. "Besides, Tristan wouldn't mind."

Tristan wouldn't mind but I would. I didn't like the man. I didn't want to be near him. I definitely didn't want to use his money. Who knew how he got it?

"The flight was stressful, Mom," I decided to change the subject because if I continued to say no, my mom would find a way to convince me. She didn't stop until she had her way. "I want to shower and get some rest for now. We can talk about shopping on a different day."

She stared at me for a few seconds before letting out a sigh. "Fine. You've had a hard time at school. Get some rest. I'll tell the housekeeper to make you food."

"It's fine," I shook my head. I didn't want to bother anyone and I also didn't want anyone coming up to my room. "I can cook for myself."

"Nicole–"

"It's fine, Mom. Really."

"Are you sure?" I nodded. 

Thankfully, I didn't have to persuade her to leave anymore. She left after that. I closed and locked the door after she left. Then I stood in the middle of the room and looked around.

It was nothing close to my personal taste but I would have to make do with it until I could afford to move out. 

I collapsed on the bed and exhaled heavily. I wasn't sure who I offended in my past life. I wasn't sure if this was some kind of karmic retribution, but I still couldn't believe that man was my stepfather.

I'd spent the last month or two clenching my legs whenever I recalled how roughly he took me that night. I woke up wet from dreams about him. Clara thought I was crazy. Even I thought I was crazy for thinking about a stranger so much just because of sex.

Now I was living in his house and he was married to my mother.

Talk about coincidence.

This was worse than that.

This was punishment for daring to fuck a man during a bachelor's party.

Nicole Harper

~•~

I was lost in thought until I fell asleep.

By the time I woke up, it was very dark outside. I checked my phone to see that it was already past eight at night. I blinked in surprise. How long did I think for? How long did I sleep for?

I sat on the bed, not sure what to do, then my stomach rumbled and I found myself changing into something much more comfortable-an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

Barefoot, I made my way downstairs and went to the kitchen. The space was huge. It was the kind of kitchen that made you want to spend time in it regardless of whether or not you knew how to cook.

I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I opened the fridge, hoping to find something to eat. A blue sticky note caught my attention and I carried the container it was stuck on.

My lips pulled into a smile. At least, my mom was selfless enough to reserve dinner for me.

I put it into the microwave and leaned against the kitchen island, doomscrolling as I waited for my food to heat up.

"You don't like me very much, do you?"

I jumped in fright, turning around to see that Tristan was on the other side of the island. I placed my hand on my chest, trying to calm my fast-beating heart. "What the hell? What are you doing here?"

He arched an eyebrow. "This is my house, Nicole," he said, emphasizing on my name.

My tongue poked the inside of my cheek in annoyance, knowing damn well why he was speaking like that.

As I stared at him, all the memories from that night came flashing in my head. 

"Are you throwing a fit because your mother remarried or is it an issue with me personally?"

I took a subconscious step backward even if there was something in between us. The more oblivious he acted, the angrier I got. My mother was with her third husband. She'd had several boyfriends. If he were this rich, it wouldn't be hard for him to find out and my mom never hid her history. Why would I get angry about a man who wouldn't last two years?

"Are we going to keep acting oblivious?" I questioned, not sure when the words left my mouth. I hadn't decided on whether or not to confront him yet here he was standing in front of me, looking ridiculously good in a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, looking nothing like the man who tied my hands behind my back, fucked me until I almost cried, and left me like that.

His hair almost covered his eyes, but I could vividly remember how those brown eyes tracked my every move that night. He'd been mesmerized. His intense gaze had turned me on, but how could I have known he was the "billionaire" my mother was talking about on the phone?

He arched an eyebrow. "Have we met before?"

I opened my mouth, ready to call him every name in the book, ready to call him out for acting like he didn't remember what happened that night, but then I paused.

What if he really didn't recognize me?

That night, I'd been wearing a mask that I never took off. I never gave him my name either. It was possible he couldn't recognize me. He knew nothing about me. Not my name. Not my face. Only the sound I made when I came undone.

I turned around, facing away from him as I closed my eyes tightly. Fuck.

I almost fucked up. I almost revealed that I was the stripper that night. If he couldn't recognize me, things were a lot better this way. I would have to learn how to act around him and not give myself away.

"Have we?" He was suddenly a lot closer.

I moved away, walking closer to the microwave as I faced him again. His eyes were stuck on my face. For a second, they drifted to my lips. My breath hitched. "No, not at all."

"Then I presume we have no existing differences?"

I swallowed. As long as we weren't counting intimacy. "None."

"Good," he hummed, his voice low and deep, doing something to my stomach I would never dare admit. "Your mom was worried you didn't join us for dinner today. I'm assuming that won't be the case tomorrow."

Dinner? Together? I wasn't used to that. However, I didn't trust my voice anymore so I just settled for nodding. His presence was imposing. He was close enough that he could reach me, turn me around, and...

I cleared my throat, ridding myself of every improper thought I had of him. He was my mom's husband. Aside from that, he wasn't a good person either. Good people didn't cheat on their partners. There was nothing to fantasize about him.

Just because I knew what he looked like and felt like, just because I knew how good he was at handling a woman's body didn't mean...

Fuck. I was already going off track.

"I don't like it when women are unhappy in my house," he said, taking a step back. "Especially not my wife."

I bit the inside of my cheek, physically restraining myself from snorting. If he cared so much about his wife, why was he looking at strippers with lustful eyes? Men were such hypocrites.

The microwave beeped, reminding me that I still had to eat. I let out a breath and focused on my food. By the time I brought the container out of the microwave, he was gone. I didn't even hear him leave.

Then again, I didn't hear him come in either.

I transferred my food onto a plate and carried it up to my new room, not wanting to run into that man again. He unsettled me.

I needed to pretend like everything was fine, but I'd never been the best at pretending.

This was going to be a wild summer.

Were there any jobs that provided accommodation for interns?