My Stepfather, my Ruin
"This... this is wrong," she stuttered, trying not to meet his eyes. "You're my stepfather. Let's forget it ever happened."
"How can I forget it happened, Nicole?" He questioned, gripping her chin. "When the image of you whimpering for more replays in my head every fucking night?"
When one night of desperation turns into Nicole ending up in bed with a nameless stranger, she's almost shocked to death when she moves in with her mother's new husband to see that the nameless stranger is her new stepfather.
Tristan Michelson has always been in control of his emotions, but he can barely control himself when he realizes the masked stripper is his new stepdaughter.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 6
Nicole Harper
~•~
I was lost in thought until I fell asleep.
By the time I woke up, it was very dark outside. I checked my phone to see that it was already past eight at night. I blinked in surprise. How long did I think for? How long did I sleep for?
I sat on the bed, not sure what to do, then my stomach rumbled and I found myself changing into something much more comfortable-an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts.
Barefoot, I made my way downstairs and went to the kitchen. The space was huge. It was the kind of kitchen that made you want to spend time in it regardless of whether or not you knew how to cook.
I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I opened the fridge, hoping to find something to eat. A blue sticky note caught my attention and I carried the container it was stuck on.
My lips pulled into a smile. At least, my mom was selfless enough to reserve dinner for me.
I put it into the microwave and leaned against the kitchen island, doomscrolling as I waited for my food to heat up.
"You don't like me very much, do you?"
I jumped in fright, turning around to see that Tristan was on the other side of the island. I placed my hand on my chest, trying to calm my fast-beating heart. "What the hell? What are you doing here?"
He arched an eyebrow. "This is my house, Nicole," he said, emphasizing on my name.
My tongue poked the inside of my cheek in annoyance, knowing damn well why he was speaking like that.
As I stared at him, all the memories from that night came flashing in my head.
"Are you throwing a fit because your mother remarried or is it an issue with me personally?"
I took a subconscious step backward even if there was something in between us. The more oblivious he acted, the angrier I got. My mother was with her third husband. She'd had several boyfriends. If he were this rich, it wouldn't be hard for him to find out and my mom never hid her history. Why would I get angry about a man who wouldn't last two years?
"Are we going to keep acting oblivious?" I questioned, not sure when the words left my mouth. I hadn't decided on whether or not to confront him yet here he was standing in front of me, looking ridiculously good in a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, looking nothing like the man who tied my hands behind my back, fucked me until I almost cried, and left me like that.
His hair almost covered his eyes, but I could vividly remember how those brown eyes tracked my every move that night. He'd been mesmerized. His intense gaze had turned me on, but how could I have known he was the "billionaire" my mother was talking about on the phone?
He arched an eyebrow. "Have we met before?"
I opened my mouth, ready to call him every name in the book, ready to call him out for acting like he didn't remember what happened that night, but then I paused.
What if he really didn't recognize me?
That night, I'd been wearing a mask that I never took off. I never gave him my name either. It was possible he couldn't recognize me. He knew nothing about me. Not my name. Not my face. Only the sound I made when I came undone.
I turned around, facing away from him as I closed my eyes tightly. Fuck.
I almost fucked up. I almost revealed that I was the stripper that night. If he couldn't recognize me, things were a lot better this way. I would have to learn how to act around him and not give myself away.
"Have we?" He was suddenly a lot closer.
I moved away, walking closer to the microwave as I faced him again. His eyes were stuck on my face. For a second, they drifted to my lips. My breath hitched. "No, not at all."
"Then I presume we have no existing differences?"
I swallowed. As long as we weren't counting intimacy. "None."
"Good," he hummed, his voice low and deep, doing something to my stomach I would never dare admit. "Your mom was worried you didn't join us for dinner today. I'm assuming that won't be the case tomorrow."
Dinner? Together? I wasn't used to that. However, I didn't trust my voice anymore so I just settled for nodding. His presence was imposing. He was close enough that he could reach me, turn me around, and...
I cleared my throat, ridding myself of every improper thought I had of him. He was my mom's husband. Aside from that, he wasn't a good person either. Good people didn't cheat on their partners. There was nothing to fantasize about him.
Just because I knew what he looked like and felt like, just because I knew how good he was at handling a woman's body didn't mean...
Fuck. I was already going off track.
"I don't like it when women are unhappy in my house," he said, taking a step back. "Especially not my wife."
I bit the inside of my cheek, physically restraining myself from snorting. If he cared so much about his wife, why was he looking at strippers with lustful eyes? Men were such hypocrites.
The microwave beeped, reminding me that I still had to eat. I let out a breath and focused on my food. By the time I brought the container out of the microwave, he was gone. I didn't even hear him leave.
Then again, I didn't hear him come in either.
I transferred my food onto a plate and carried it up to my new room, not wanting to run into that man again. He unsettled me.
I needed to pretend like everything was fine, but I'd never been the best at pretending.
This was going to be a wild summer.
Were there any jobs that provided accommodation for interns?
Keep Reading
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to
Unlock All Chapters
You may also like
8.5
"Oh. God, Eli, please! I'm not on the pills," I gasped, my fingers clawing at his shoulders.
"With a pussy as sweet as that?" he growled against my neck. "Jett was the loser. I'm not. I'm gonna fuck this pussy till the end. Afraid you're gonna have my child?"
My head dropped as a shudder ripped through me. "You're crazy!"
His voice dropped to a whisper. "You're mine now. My woman. And I'm gonna fuck you until this pretty body of yours only knows me."
---
Rowanne Steele thought she had it all. A perfect marriage to Jett Carter, heir to the Carter empire, and a future filled with love. But when Jett dies in a tragic car crash, her world shatters. Her mourning days aren't over, still clinging to his memory, drowning in grief and loyalty to the man she thought she knew.
Until one night, a hidden truth rises from his belongings and everything Rowanne believed about her husband was a lie.
Lost and heartbroken, she runs into the only arms that feel safe, Eli Carter, Jett's younger brother.
What begins as a moment of comfort in the rain turns into a mistake neither of them can forget. A mistake that feels far too much like fate.
Rowanne swears it can't happen again. Eli refuses to let go. Whether forbidden or not, he's determined to claim her. And this time, he won't lose.
7.9
In my past life, I was the naive surrogate who fell desperately in love with Karson King, an untouchable Wall Street billionaire.
I thought my blind devotion would earn me a place in his family. Instead, his cruel mother forced me to sign away my parental rights to my three-year-old daughter.
I was locked in a dark, freezing basement. I watched helplessly as his arrogant relatives tormented my child, pushing her down a flight of marble stairs and shattering her tiny arm.
When we finally died in a horrific car crash, my face covered in blood amidst the shattered glass, Karson didn't shed a single tear. To him, my death was just the convenient erasure of a cheap mistake.
I sacrificed my dignity for his approval, but they treated us worse than stray dogs. Why did my innocent daughter have to pay the ultimate price for their ruthless arrogance?
Opening my eyes again, the harsh glare of a massive crystal chandelier pierced my vision. I was back in the grand foyer of the King estate, exactly five years ago.
"Sign it. You are nothing but a gold digger."
My soon-to-be mother-in-law slammed the thick legal contract onto the marble table, demanding I give up my daughter.
This time, the paralyzing fear evaporated, replaced by absolute, icy clarity.
I didn't cower. I picked up the pen, looked right at the billionaire who despised me, and prepared to manipulate his entire empire.
9.7
I tried to quit.
My boss said no.
When you work for billionaire restaurateur Bastian Hale, every day is an exercise in endurance.
He screams at you in front of half the staff? Endure.
He tears your work to bits and tells you to start again? Endure.
He surprises you shirtless in the office late one night? Endure... then go home and die of embarrassment.
I've endured six years of Bastian Hale.
I can endure anything.
... Until my doctor tells me I'm going blind in ninety days.
Suddenly, enduring isn't the goal anymore.
Living is.
Seeing everything I can before the lights go out forever.
And that means one thing: quitting the job that's consumed my entire adult life.
There's just one problem:
Bastian doesn't accept my resignation.
Instead, he shreds my letter to pieces...
Offers me a million dollars to stay...
And vows to make my last ninety days of sight worth remembering.
The man is arrogant. Brutal. Cold as the walk-in freezer.
But his hands are warm.
And in the dark, he teaches me things my eyes never could.
I wanted one last look at the light.
I got a taste of the dark instead.
9.8
For two years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to wealthy heir Grady Maddox.
Then I found a hidden compartment in his study desk. Inside were dozens of explicit polaroids of his adopted sister, Jasmine, and a worn leather diary.
The diary revealed the sickening truth.
"Kaya is the perfect shield. As long as I have a wife, no one will ever look too closely at me and my little Yue."
When Jasmine deliberately knocked a bowl of boiling soup onto my hand, Grady didn't even glance at my blistering skin.
He frantically checked Jasmine for nonexistent scratches and yelled at me.
"Why weren't you paying attention? Look at the mess you've made! You scared her."
He then kicked me out to our empty penthouse as punishment, only to move Jasmine in the very next day, letting her parade around in his dress shirts and giving her my favorite custom furniture.
Looking at the husband I had devoted my life to fawning over the sister he was secretly sleeping with, I didn't feel heartbroken. I just felt a deep, suffocating disgust.
I was nothing but a paper wall meant to hide their twisted affair.
I didn't cry, and I didn't beg for his love.
I simply locked him out of the bedroom, gathered my financial records, and called Manhattan's most ruthless divorce attorney.
I was securing my escape, completely unaware that Grady's estranged, terrifyingly powerful older brother had been waiting ten years for this exact moment.
8.4
Juliette was an agriculture major desperately trying to get top-tier CRISPR potato data from Adrian Castillo, the untouchable physics genius and wealthy heir.
But to get it, she was dragged to a high-end shooting club, where Adrian suddenly lost all his legendary motor skills, shooting zeroes and acting like a helpless nerd.
His clumsy act made Juliette a target. Blair, a wealthy heiress, cornered her, mocking her mud-stained cargo pants and calling her a pathetic dirt-girl.
"If you lose, you leave this club and never speak to Adrian again."
Blair challenged her to a professional air pistol match. The crowd of elites laughed, waiting for the farm girl to humiliate herself.
Even worse, Adrian just stood behind her, pretending to be terrified of Blair and whispering that his sinuses would swell shut if Juliette didn't save him.
The mockery and judgment felt suffocating. Everyone thought she was just a desperate fangirl who didn't even know how to hold a gun.
But they didn't know the dark trauma she had buried years ago. And she didn't understand why Adrian, a man who could supposedly shoot a coin at eight hundred meters in a sandstorm, was deliberately playing weak to push her to the firing line. What was his sick endgame?
To secure her experimental fertilizer, Juliette finally stopped hiding.
She picked up the competition pistol, locked her perfect stance, and fired ten flawless shots.
108.5. Total, undeniable annihilation.
7.1
Jenna lay dying in the ICU, kept alive by a ventilator.
Her twenty-year-old twins walked in wearing designer clothes, looking at her with pure disgust.
Before Jenna could even reach out, Arthur stepped back.
"Don't touch me. You'll ruin my jacket."
Clio shoved a photo in Jenna's face, revealing their billionaire father was marrying someone else next week.
They told Jenna she was a penniless nobody, nothing but a cheap incubator for the Knight family heirs.
Then, checking his luxury watch, Arthur complained they were going to be late for a charity gala.
Smiling coldly, he reached out and unplugged her life support.
Jenna suffocated in agony, watching her own children walk away without looking back.
As the heart monitor flatlined, she swore a blood oath. If she ever got another chance, she would make them bleed.
When she opened her eyes again, she was back fifteen years in the past.
Her five-year-old son was kicking her bed, screaming at her to make his pancakes.
The trauma of her death ignited into pure, freezing rage. She finally understood that to this family, she was just livestock.
This time, Jenna didn't drop to her knees to coax him.
She dragged the brat over her knee and slapped him hard.
She demanded a divorce, escaped her locked mansion using torn bedsheets, and ran into the dark.
Finding a bleeding, heavily armed military operative hiding from assassins, Jenna pressed her hands against his wound.
"I get you out of this kill zone. In exchange, you protect me."