The Billionaire's Stepdaughter

030

MATHIEU ABOVE ^ or BESIDE >

So so sorry for the long break and I want thank you guys with all my heart for your continuous commitment and love <3

☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻ENJOY!!☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻

"Shut your eyes, cover you ears, close you mouth and all will be good angel."

Her father used to say this to her every time he and the bitch were about to get into a particularly nasty fight or really, any bad situation in general. She also did this when Troy broke his leg in eight grade or the day when Alex had left for college. But the very last time Andrew had ever said this to her was about a week before he died. The spawn of the Devil was caught cheating on Andrew while he was in the hospital by no other than Troy and Alex. With who? Of course it couldn't be some average ol' pool boy, no, it had to be Andrew's best friend of thirty years, on Andrew's desk, in Andrew top-floored office. Anna supposed that was the day he finally decided to cut her off on his final testament and what a satisfying day it was, to see her face while their lawyer read the will. So with Andrew's method being tremendously effective, Anna has adopted this as a sort of comforting stance even through her adultish life. To which she found rather suitable for the current predicament.

So she did. Anna closed her eyes shut and kept her lips tight. But she couldn't cover her ears though. So she dreamt of a faraway place as her last ditch attempt to block all noise and emotions. All touch and connection. Too ugly and tainted now. She didn't want a first row seat to such a debauch spectacle.

Why? Why? Why? It kept ringing in her ears. God did she just want the ringing to stop. Riiing, ring, ring, ring ring.

So she numbed herself all too use to the act. She used to numb herself all the time: when she used to live with the she-devil. Or the time when her first love dumped her for faked-breasted Angelina, and lastly was when her father died or at least she tried to. Troy and Alex wouldn't let her, but they are not here now. So numbness would do, no harm done. In fact she was so accustomed with it that she didn't even realize that she was doing it.

So dreaming it was. The more wanted outcome. She suppose that her favourite memory would be the boat. A few days to have the man who ruled countries and industries, all to herself. At her beck and call. At the boat, he acted as if he was a slave and she, his mistress that owner his heart and soul. Was that just a lie? Dream... just dream.

The first morning, she could still clearly remember the first morning of the little getaway. When she woke up, she was greeted by the grinning Nicolas. He was so beautiful and just so painfully perfect in that moment. But then again he always was, yet, something in this particular instant made him even more so. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle with so much bliss while the sunlight from the porthole acted, what she thought was funnily, as a spotlight for all his godliness. So freaking flawless.

She almost fainted too when he sat up and stretched. Completely and unashamedly naked. Every ripple of muscle just gleaming under the watchful eye of the sun. And he had the brashness to smile his panty-dropping smile and ask for breakfast. Needless to say, breakfast did not come until a whole while later. But they most likely will never have this type of opportunity again. He probably will never take her to another vacation and she would probably not come within a five meter radius of him. She did not want that. Can't even fathom a life without him. But how can they ever go back? How?

Dream. Don't think. Just don't think. But the more she did this the more tears came gushing out of her eyes, the whimpers that left her mouth sounded as horrible as they sound. She bit her lips so hard, she could taste that bitter taste of blood. Her eyes were still closed tighter than a vault. But something wet was hitting her forehead. An army of tiny droplets fell on her forehead. She wanted with all her heart to see what it was, but she was so scared out of her mind. What would she see? If or when she does open her eyes, the dream would be over and she would be faced with the cruel cruel reality. Her bubble was so perfect. Why couldn't she stay in that pink bubble of happiness. Why did she need this god forsaken farce with Mathieu and for goodness' sake, why did she even agree? Why was Nicolas married to her mother? Why was he doing this?

So she didn't open her eyes... well.... not until she heard a whimper coming from the same mouth she has kissed a thousand times or how it sounded so similar to the voice that countlessly whispered sweet nothings into her ear.

Nicolas was crying, no she was crying, he was sobbing. He was shaking and his face was tucked at her head. And he was just sobbing, clutching her for dear life. It felt like an eternity before he started sliding down, Anna flinched, she hated that but he did this. Nicolas seemed to notice this as well as he took a sharp inhale when she did. But he kept sliding down anyways and stopped when his knees hit the pure marbled floor. His arms coiled around her hips and his lips pressing kisses on her navel. She was at loss. His sobbing went down to whimpers and silent tears. Why was he still so beautiful while crying. Damn him, Anna thought.

She was so mad, so much in her, but all she wanted to do was comfort the love of her life. Her once limped hands on her side, cautiously raised to reach him. She could see bruises forming from where Nicolas held her, but she ignored them. It would heal thought, however, she could not say the same for her heart.

Her heart skipped a beat when Nicolas clutched her outstretched hand. She was afraid again. But he took her hand and pressed of again his face, inhaling as if he was memorizing her smell. But then he let go and pressed his face once more into her navel. She was confused for a moment before both hands started to soothe Nicolas, softly running through his hair. When she did this, he dug his face deeper into her, a huge need to disappear. And he started sobbing... a heart-wrenching sobbed that made her feel guilty even though she did nothing.

They just stayed there for so long with no care of who might see them or how Nicolas' reputation can be destroyed. Imagine, if some influential individual sees this very sight. Nicolas Chevalier with his fly open and dick hanging, embracing his disheveled and obviously fucked step-daughter in the hallway of his main residence during a supposed celebration for said step-daughter and step-daughter's beau. Who happens to be the billionaire magnate's nephew while his supposed wife was socializing with their guests. Nicolas would be a dead man walking if any one saw them, but somehow they just didn't care and there was only one another and that was all.

But there was no more bubble. No more happiness to maintain so Anna spoke, "why?" It was so quiet and empty. Like she had given up. She didn't get the answer she wanted. Instead she received and onslaught of desperate, "I'm sorry" or "please forgive me, mon amour." She felt a vice grip her heart when he said the latter. Was she? Was she still his heart? Was she ever truly that? She loved him so much it hurts, mentally, emotionally and now even physically.

The more sorries she heard, the tighter the grip was. Frantically, she started shaking her. "No!" She screamed. But he kept going, tighter and tighter he held her and more desperate were his pleas for forgiveness, but they meant nothing. Nothing at all now.

☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻SE IL VOUS PLAÎT COMMENTER OU VOTER!☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻☻