Sinful Pleasure | 18+

Chapter 20 - Kez

No, he won't. Daddy doesn't care that I'm learning more about where he comes from, nor does he care about me. Business was always more important than famille.

"Speaking of which, do you know where he is?"

Something inside her suddenly ticks, and she stands frozen-unable to move. And although I can't see her face, or hear what she's thinking, I know exactly how she feels about my question.

Swiftly turning on her heels, she forces down a swallow, one that allows me to know how bad she is at hiding her emotions, and lying. I'll let her feed it to me anyway as she did with her cookies. Stalking over to me, her arms rise, and she pulls my blonde hair over one shoulder, smoothly brushing her fingers through it.

"Gabriel is..." she pauses momentarily, thinking about whether she should tell me the truth or not. "Busy." A breath of relief floats from her mouth, and I cannot help but frown. I just wish she wasn't so afraid of my dad, then she'd tell me anything and everything. "Now child, go back upstairs. I presume you have homework to complete," she says, ushering my butt out of the room.

Groaning, I look over my shoulder and watch her rush into the kitchen. Homework, pfft. No. I wait a minute, hearing Maribel walk into the butler's pantry and out the back door that is inside the small room.

The door slams shut, and I waste no time dashing back inside the dining area and making my way through another short hallway to my left, one door at the end. Quickly pulling it open, I step through and gently close it behind me, giving my best effort in trying to keep quiet.

My head shoots up, and I stare down at yet another door-further from where I'm standing. I suck in a breath to silence myself. When I want to eavesdrop and listen in on the things around me, holding my breath helps, that way I don't have my breathing blocking out most of what I'm trying to hear.

Hesitantly, my feet move forward, and I tiptoe my way toward the voices I hear behind the door. Suddenly my gut wrenches, the voices turn to groans-oddly unsatisfying groans-ones that make someone sound like they're struggling, somehow.

Nevertheless, I continue my walk. It's nothing, Kez. I think to myself, I'm most likely right. Stopping an inch away, I furrow my eyebrows and lean forward. I can't quite hear what the voices are saying, it's muffled, and it's as if they're purposely doing that.

I think back for a second. Maybe he's in a meeting, or, he could be on an important phone call-on the loudspeaker, of course. No, but it sounds almost...serious. Shit. Maybe I'm overthinking.

Licking my lips, tasting the chocolate cookie still lingering on my tongue, I move closer, allowing the shell of my ear to press against the door. I can't risk this-not when my father could barge through this door at any moment. But, who said taking a little bit of risk was dangerous. Swallowing, I bring out my arms and reach them over to grab the door frame. They were double doors, but not wide enough that I couldn't do this.

I push myself up and press the whole left side of my head against the wooden door. The sounds are less muffled, and I can now hear my dad's voice. It's low-anger on the very top of his tongue.

Jesus. always angry. "Please," a hoarse voice pleads. "If this gets out, I'll be fired." They say, a tiny sob catching in their rough throat.