Owned by My Best Friend's Father
By sonyiswriting
Free Chapters
Chapter 1 BETRAYED
ISLA. Sheila would kill me. Body bags, bleach, and ropes. Maybe even toss my body into the ocean instead of burying me and planting an endangered plant species on top of my hastily dug grave. Like any sane person would do. Did I deserve it? Probably. Would I commit the offense again? Yes, definitely. What sin did I commit to deserve this, you might ask. I fucked her daddy dearest, and I did it right under her nose too. But before she killed me, this was the summer that started it all. **** I hadn’t stepped foot in my dorm room in nearly forty-eight hours. Every corner of campus turned into some kind of refuge, a temporary home that saved me from the sting of the betrayal, sitting in my own space and waiting for me so she could spew whatever bullshit she had to say. It took a toll on me, of course. My car had seen more of me than my bed, and those overpriced lattes from the fancier cafés had drained the tiny savings in my wallet more than I cared to admit. Maybe it was time to find a cheap coffee shop—one that wouldn’t make me feel even worse than a miserable twerp, one where I could breathe without feeling like I was about to combust. Fuck! My head! It felt like someone was whacking at my brain with some sort of machete, while simultaneously digging my memories to the surface… to the moment when I had walked into his apartment. I hadn’t bothered to knock. Not when I had a key, and was sure he wasn’t home. What started out as a stolen moment in between my classes, a break from the stress eating at me every waking hour, turned out to be a wake-up call. His hands were in her hair. Her back arching off the couch. Their moans tangled in the air like an unbearable melody. It was probably minutes, but it felt like I stood there for hours. My stomach twisted, then churned, and when it finally became too unbearable… when my so-called boyfriend turned around and saw me, releasing a startled gasp, I had turned and walked out before their brain could catch up. Then, I was hurt. Now? Anger was the only thing keeping me upright. It buzzed in my veins, sharp and relentless. I’d even snapped at a classmate this morning, my frustration bleeding into a miscalculated beam load in my architectural engineering class. It wasn’t like he even did anything. I was just embarrassed because the professor had corrected me in front of everyone. For an amateur mistake. One I never would have made if I wasn’t running on fumes and the absolute need to tear the image out of my head. Damn me! I needed rest. I needed to stop pretending I could outwalk the fury within me. But if I went back to the door, I’d have to see her. And if I saw her, I’d have to deal with the urge to scream, to fight, to say something that I would never be able to take back. Fuck my life! I had no idea how long I sat in my car, keeping my forehead pressed against the steering wheel, while debating if I could just sleep here for the night. It wasn’t like I had not done it before. But for the simple fact that my whole body felt like it was being covered by a bodybuilder, I knew it was time to make it back to my dorm. I needed an actual bed. My bed. “Damn girl! You look like you’ve been through hell and back.” my across the hall dorm mate mentioned the moment she saw me. She was dressed in black leggings and a tank top, so she must just be coming back from running. “Heck, you even smell like it too.” I couldn’t help the snort. “Trisha.” “What?” She asked, eyebrows raised. “It is the truth. All that studying finally fried your brain.” Considering we were almost in the same major, and she studied even more than me, this statement was not correct. We chatted for a while longer, taking the stairs so she could add more steps for the day. It was almost enough to make me forget the reason I was avoiding the dorm. It was quiet when I finally stepped inside. I would just slip in, grab what I needed, and make my way to the shower without causing any fuss. That was totally doable. Totally doable. Sheila, my roommate and best friend, was on the floor, curled up, her face streaked with tears, and my feet took that as a cue to halt all functions. She wasn’t crying because I hadn’t come back to the dorm room, and I ignored her hundred calls and text messages now, was she? Was it guilt that got my heart twisting? No, it couldn’t be. Irritation at all these theatrics, maybe. She slept with… “She left.” What? “Who?” I crossed my arms. “My mom,” she choked the words out like they were stuck in her throat. “The divorce has been finalized now, so she’s moving out soon.” Well… that was clearly not what I expected, and I wasn’t touched enough to be moved by her little sob story. Not my problem. Not my cross to carry. Sheila sniffled, swiping at her face, which made her mascara stain her face even more, then looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. “I know I’m not your favorite person at the moment…” No shit, Sherlock. “… but please, Isla. Come home with me, just for a little while. If a stranger is in the house, they won’t fight as much, they won’t scream. They’ll behave.” Fuck this bitch. The audacity she had to say such things. “No,” I said, making sure the word came out sharply. Absolutely. It seemed Sheila had the ability to make an unlimited number of tears fall from her eyes because a fresh wave rolled down shortly after I made my statement. “Please, Isla.” She was standing so close to me right now, and I could kick her if I wanted to. My supposed best friend who didn’t give a fuck about my feelings when it mattered most. “Please. I’ll pay you.” That froze my brain instead of my legs this time. Money. It shouldn’t have mattered. It shouldn’t have been enough to make me hesitate about my plans. But my bank account was running dangerously on the fumes of past glory, and a week at least of pretending to care in exchange for cash was almost tempting. Almost. I turned around so I could look her in the eyes, already loathing how weak I was. “How much?”
Chapter 2 THE MAN I SHOULDN’T WANT
ISLA. The estate wasn’t what I had expected. I knew Sheila came from money—there were signs obviously, and she had said something about her father being some sort of rich millionaire or something—but this? This was on a whole other level. An estate that loomed ahead like something straight out of a movie. Large, sprawling and perfectly manicured hedges sat prettily, with a driveway long enough to make walking a punishment. The air even smelled different here… expensive, like freshly cut grass, clean stone, and a hint of something floral. Focusing on this made it even easier to ignore Sheila. Just because I accepted her little deal didn’t make us friends automatically. I stepped out of the car, gripping the strap of my bag a little tighter. Maybe this was a mistake, and I shouldn’t have agreed to come here. Was it possible to back down now? “Sheila!” The sound of footsteps following the loud happy cry of Sheila's name stopped the rest of my thoughts. A woman who looked so much like the older version of Sheila approached us, her lips spread wide into the largest smile I had ever seen on a mother’s face. “Isla, right?” she asked the moment she was standing in front of us, her voice light, welcoming, as if we had met a thousand times before. She took my hands in hers before I stretched them fully for a handshake. So, that was that. “It’s so good to finally meet you. Sheila talks about you all the time.” From my periphery, I caught Sheila rolling her eyes, and muttering something under her breath. Did you tell your mother you fucked my boyfriend, Sheila? Or that you paid me to be here? All the questions I wanted to ask, but her mom was nice. Unbelievably nice. She was the kind of person who made you feel at ease within seconds, who radiated warmth like an open fire. She looked nothing like the type of woman who’d be caught in the middle of some nasty divorce. And that made me wonder… What the hell was going on? “You must be exhausted,” Sheila’s mom continued. “We have a room ready for you. If you need anything—clothes, toiletries, whatever... just let me know. Or you can take anything you need from the guest wing.” Guest wing. I had to clamp my teeth down on my lips to keep the laugh in. Of course, they had a guest wing. I followed Sheila up the grand staircase, keeping my distance while also trying to wrap my head around the sheer size of the place, when a deep voice cut through the space. “You didn’t tell me we’d be housing strays, Sheila.” I stopped mid-step, my entire body tensing as what it perceived to be a threat. The air seemed to shift, charged with something sharp and heavy. Slowly, I turned. And there he was. The man could only be Mr. Wolfe. Vincent Wolfe. Sheila’s father. I had spent hours googling him to understand the kind of man he was… heck, I googled the whole family, and I was prepared to hate him the moment I saw him. Only a man like him could hurt such a sweet woman. I didn’t expect the attraction that hit me—hot, immediate, and wholly inappropriate. This was Sheila’s father we were talking about. Tall. Broad-shouldered. He had the kind of presence that demanded attention, with sharp features and brown eyes that pinned me in place. He wore the kind of casual wealth that most people could only dream of—an unbuttoned dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, slacks that probably cost more than my tuition. His jaw was dusted with just the right amount of stubble. But his lips? Those gorgeous plump lips were pressed into something unimpressive, almost cruel. I should look away now. I wanted to look away. Then he opened that mouth of his. “Didn’t think you’d bring home a project, Sheila. What, is she here to tutor you? Or did you feel bad and decide to do charity work?” The attraction fizzled out instantly, replaced with a burning annoyance so strong it nearly choked me. Sheila groaned. “Oh my God, Dad. Can you not?” “Can I not?” He let out a humorless laugh, his gaze flicking over me like I was something insignificant. “If you’re going to pick up strays, at least make sure they don’t stink up the place.” It took everything in me not to react. Not to flinch. Instead, I met his stare dead-on, making sure to pull my best poker face. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll be gone before you notice.” A flicker of something passed through his face, but it was gone before I could name it. He just let out a scoff and walked past us like I was nothing. I hated him. And I think I understood why the divorce was happening. No woman should be shackled to such a man. “… don’t let daddy get to you, Isla. He’s just in a sour…” I slammed the door in her face before she could complete the rest of her sentence, letting out the breath I held since I saw him. What the hell was that? Not even a full hour. I hadn’t been here for a full hour, and Mr Wolfe, also known as Sheila’s daddy, had made my blood boil. Asshole. Complete and utter asshole. I hope Sheila’s mom gets half of the property. Still… Why the fuck couldn’t I shake this stupid feeling of being seen? The way his eyes had lingered… No, no, no. I wasn’t thinking straight anymore. Distractions. I needed a distraction, and I knew the perfect one. I grabbed my phone and collapsed onto the bed, letting my fingers hover over the screen for only a second before instinct took over and led me to the one account I always ended up on. The sexy masked man. His latest video was already racking up likes. I pressed play. The camera captured the sharp cut of his jaw, the barely there smirk as he ran a hand over his toned chest. The blue lighting he chose this time was perfect, teasing me in a way that was better than what I expected. I forgot to breathe the more he moved, slow and controlled, rolling his hips to the beat in a way that sent heat curling in my stomach. He dragged a hand down his chest, skimming those lithe fingers down his abs before stopping just at the waistband of his pants. Teasing. Fuck. I had to clench my thighs even tighter, exhaling through my nose. This was unfair. He knew exactly what he was doing. The kind of power he wielded over his audience. Over me. I rewound the video. Just once, or maybe twice. Again. My skin felt too warm, the air in the room suddenly too thick. The weight of the day, of the tension downstairs, of Sheila’s father's knowing gaze— that all faded into the background, replaced by this. The slow, deliberate movement on my screen. The ache coiling between my legs, demanding attention. My fingers trembled as I reached under the covers, slipping past the waistband of my shorts. The walls are thick, right? I pressed play one last time. Then, I let myself go.