My Step Father, My Desire.

Knox

I shift in my leather chair, trying to focus on Cynthia's presentation slides projected on the conference room wall.

But I'm barely in the room with them. My head is muddled with thoughts of last night. The feel of my stepdaughter's hand on my dick.

"Our demographic analysis shows a 34% uptick in engagement when we target the 25-to-40 age bracket," Cynthia says, her pointer dancing across colorful charts.

I'm completely lost when she goes on to the next slide.

I was stupid for letting Emma touch me. And we almost got caught. Not like we did anything. But it didn't look that way when Zach, her boyfriend walked in. I should have walked away when I had the chance. It can't-

"Mr Williams? What do you think about the budget allocation?" Cynthia's voice cut through my thoughts.

I blink, realizing she is looking at me expectantly, just like the others. Dammit. "The budget, yes. It seems..comprehensive."

Cynthia lifts her eyebrows slightly. She has been my campaign lead for three years now and it's obvious in her eyes that she knows I'm distracted.

"I haven't mentioned specific numbers yet, sir."

Heat creeps up my neck. Emma's ruining everything.

"Right. Please, continue with the breakdown."

I force myself to sit straighter. This is my company. My reputation on the line and I need to think of a way to deal with Emma later. But my mind betrays me.

I have images from last night resurfacing in my head too many times. How my dick jerked in need when he gripped me. I haven't felt that way with Gina. And I know it's fucked up. I shouldn't be....I shouldn't have.

"Mr Williams, you're not looking at the projections," Cynthia says, her tone edging toward frustration.

I grab my bottle of water and drag my attention back to the screen as I take down a gulp.

"I'm sorry, Cynthia. I didn't sleep well last night. Can you run through the timeline again?"

She sighed, but her expression softened. "We can reschedule this meeting-"

"No, no. I'm fine. Really." I rub my temples, trying to push away the thoughts away.

"The timeline?"

"Phase one launches in two weeks, assuming we get Sanderson's approval by Friday. Phase two begins the following month, and we'll want to assess performance metrics before moving into phase three." Cynthia's pointer traces the calendar on screen.

"The entire campaign runs through the fiscal quarter, with options to extend based on results."

My phone buzzes against the conference table, causing a distraction. I glance at the screen and stare at the message for a few seconds blank.

Why is my ex-wife contacting me?

I haven't seen or heard from her in almost two years. Not since our divorce had been finalized in a flurry of lawyers and bitter accusations.

"Sorry, please continue," I say to Cynthia. Before she gets the chance to speak, the door to the conference room opens. What the hell is happening today!

My secretary, Patricia, pokes her head inside. Her eyes look worried.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt," Patricia says, her voice tight. "But there's someone here to see you, sir." Her eyes are on me. I know I'm not scheduled to meet anyone for the next hour.

"She says it's urgent."

"She?"

I frown as I stand to my feet. I hate distractions in my meetings.

"Who is it?"

Patricia is hesitant for a moment. She glances at Cynthia, then back at me, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

"Mrs Lewinsky," she finally says.

I feel the blood drain from my face. Monica is here. My ex-wife.

What could possibly bring her here now? My gut tells me something isn't right.

"Where is she?"