Chapter 2
“Jemaya, what the hell is wrong with you? Don’t soil his clothes with your salty tears!” My mom’s sharp voice cut through the air as she used the strength in her fingers to pry my hands off Jake, successfully separating me from the only comfort I had truly known in the past eighteen years of my life.
The sudden disengagement shattered me further, and I desperately wanted to cling to him, but that would only ruin my first impression even more. So, I ran.
Ran away from their sight.
Away from everything.
Still sobbing aggressively.
I hadn’t cried when my dad died.
I never cried when my parents fought.
I never cried when my father hit me for trying to defend my
mother.
I never even cried when I got a crush on a boy in middle school, and my mom threatened to disown me if I ever dated
anyone.
But when I found myself in Jake’s arms, it felt like all my grievances were being released, like I could pour it all onto his
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shoulders.
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I had finally found a place where I could let my tears flow.
As I ran, I heard them arguing about whether to follow me or not, but I couldn’t care.
This was new to me too.
I thought I was strong because I had never broken down before, but maybe that just meant I had never found the right person to cry to.
Hours seemed to pass before I finally stopped sobbing.
I hiccupped, trying to take in my surroundings when I suddenly caught a familiar, intoxicating scent-his cologne.
“I heard that crying makes pretty girls ugly,” his deep baritone startled me despite the fact that I had already sensed his
presence.
I looked up to find him leaning against the doorway of the garden I had run into.
He smiled at me, and I managed a small smile back between hiccups. He took it as an invitation and walked over to sit beside me.
“But something about your tears makes you look attractive,” he finished, pulling me into a hug before I could get away.
“I… I’m sorry about-HICCUP-the mess I made of myself. You must-HICCUP-hate me now,” I stammered, my face resting on his sturdy chest.
His body was solid, muscular, yet warm, and I could feel his
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heartbeat through the fabric of his shirt.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. “I came after you, even though Mira -your mom-insisted you were fine and decided to wait until you calmed down.”
I lifted my head to look at him.
“You watched me cry? You saw everything?” My embarrassment burned hotter than my earlier sadness. I quickly covered my face, but he pulled me closer again, resting his chin on my bun.
“It’s okay,” he repeated.
His tone was meant to be comforting, but it carried a certain authority that made me feel secure, like everything truly was okay.
My emotions were still raw, but in his arms, I felt… seen. Supported.
However, the sudden movement had placed my hand in a very awkward position.
I wanted to shift, to remove my hand from where it had unknowingly landed-right on his zipper-but moving might make it even more obvious. So, I stayed still.
Maybe if I didn’t move an inch, he wouldn’t notice. Right?
“Really? Is all of what I’ve done really okay?” I whispered, my voice small.
He let out a deep, rumbling growl that vibrated through me, sending a strange sensation straight to my core.
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“Yes.”
“Thank you,” I said shyly, still hyper-aware of where my fingers were resting.
“Don’t mention it. We’re going to be family soon, and I understand that this might be moving too fast, but…” He hesitated before asking, “Can I call you my daughter? If you want, you can call me Dad.”
My heart pounded.
It was too fast. Too soon.
Yet, the way he said it made something inside me ache with longing.
“Dad… Daddy?” I tested the words on my tongue, words I hadn’t used in years.
Ever since I caught my father with another woman, I had stopped calling him Dad. He had lost all my respect.
Jake inhaled sharply. “Yes. That’s my girl.”
Then he kissed the top of my head.
For a moment, we sat there in a silence that was both intimate
and innocent.
Despite my hand still being on his zipper, despite how close my chest was pressed against his, he never said anything.
And I couldn’t be more grateful for his words of comfort, for the way he kept reassuring me that we would be a happy family.
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The way he emphasized “happy” made me realize that my mother must have told him everything.
“Thank you,” I murmured. “I feel so much better now.”
He responded by wrapping his other arm around me, pulling me even tighter against him.
I couldn’t ask for a better source of comfort.
But I also couldn’t ignore the fact that something beneath his zipper had noticeably changed.
The heat. The size.
My fingers hadn’t moved, but…
Did he not notice? Or was he just ignoring it?
I was about to ask when my mother suddenly interrupted us.
I panicked and immediately tried to pull away, as if I had been caught doing something wrong, but Jake remained
completely unaffected. His arms stayed around me, holding me securely.
However, in my frantic attempt to escape, my fingers
instinctively grabbed onto something-something thick and undeniably solid.
As we both looked up at my mother, realization dawned.
My hand was wrapped around the bulge in his pants.
Even a child could tell exactly what I was holding.
And that wasn’t the only discovery I made.
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It was hard. Thick. And my fingers couldn’t even wrap around it properly.
ME
The thought of what he had used it for with my mother-who was now walking toward us-made my stomach twist with a strange, unfamiliar emotion.
Possessiveness.
“Thank you very much for this and for accepting us,” I said quickly, pulling my hand away and trying to compose myself.
Jake nodded, finally letting me go as if he had only just noticed where my hand had been.
“It’s okay. You can come find me in my room or study anytime you need me. I’m your daddy now, so it’s okay,” he said.
I swallowed hard.
And then my mother was standing in front of us.
“Hi, Mom,” I croaked.
She nodded stiffly, barely sparing me a glance.
I could tell she was both shocked and upset by my earlier
outburst.
It hurt.
I had always been the one to offer my shoulder whenever she needed to cry. Whenever she needed comfort.
“Hey, Jake,” she purred, completely ignoring me as she moved to sit on his lap, whispering something in his ear.
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“You’re so naughty,” I heard Jake chuckle, his hand still resting at the small of my back.
“And you’re so hard for me,” she teased with a laugh. “Let’s go to the room.”
She pulled him up behind her, and they both stood, turning to face me one last time.
“Your room is downstairs. The maid will show you. Under no condition should you ever come upstairs or disturb Jake in his study. He is always busy in there,” she ordered before leading him away.
They were gone in seconds.
My chaotic thoughts came rushing back.
But at that moment, I had only two questions.
First-did my mom really just meet him a month ago?
Second-why was she already acting like the madam of the house?
And yet, the thoughts I couldn’t shake were the ones I didn’t want to admit.
He had gotten that hard when my hand was on him… and not for her.
The possessiveness I felt over that made my chest burn.
She could claim him all she wanted.
But he had said I could come anytime.
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So who did she think she was to give me orders?
My mother, yes.
But she wasn’t the owner of this house
A
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