Wanting My Step-Daddy

Ivy. Julian moved into our house days later, and just as I expected, Clarissa was ecstatic about it. She wouldn't stop gushing and following him around, acting like a little child that had been handed their favorite toy. I won't deny it - I was very envious watching them like that - but I did my best to ignore them, going about my life and acting like they didn't matter. I found it strange they didn't immediately start sharing a room but concluded it must be because they hadn't tied the knot fully. That gave me a measure of relief. That would have been the push that would have driven me over the edge. The very next night, my mother threw a party to celebrate. People filled our house, celebrating the newest couple in town. My mother was all smiles, arms linked with Julian as she paraded him around the living room, talking with the guests. I sat in a corner, a bottle of liquor in my hands, completely invisible as I watched and drank, my jealousy and hatred mixing within to become a truly vile concoction. Occasionally, Julian and I would hold gazes, and the smile on his face would drop. I just looked away, pouring more liquor into my system. Now wasn't the time to confront him. If he wanted to play father, I wanted to see how far he was willing to take it. If I couldn't make him want me, at least I could make him squirm. Later that night, when I had the chance, I took his number from my mother's phone and saved it. I had been doing some research about him but hadn't found much on the internet other than the fact that he was a wealthy businessman. Sitting at an obscure point in the room, I brought out my phone and texted him: I: I miss you... I typed, then clicked send. It took him a while to bring out the phone from his pocket, but he did so, swiping the screen and stiffening slightly. His gaze darted around before landing on me. Seeing the phone in my hands, I watched him clench his jaw. With a deep breath, he put the phone back in his pocket and continued speaking with the guests. I: So, you're not going to ask who this is? I sent another text, hating its pathetic tone. Watching him grow uncomfortable, he excused himself from the group he was with and brought out his phone. The three bubbles appearing on my private chat told me he was responding to me. J: How did you get my number? I scoffed, rolling my eyes. I: You're seriously asking that? It's easy now. All I need to do is go through my mother's phone. Welcome to the family. More of those bubbles. J: What do you want? I: I missed you. I want you. I wrote. Clicked send. There was a delay this time around. When I looked at him from across the room, he was still looking at his phone, perhaps too scared to look at me. J: You know that's not possible anymore. I'm engaged to your mother. I: You're still engaged, not married. I think you can play around a bit. I watched him scratch his hair, feeling a dark satisfaction at seeing him so restless. He soon began texting furiously. J: Play around with my fiancée's daughter? That would be too much of a scandal. I smirked as I replied. I: It won't be if no one knows about it. Don't you want me too? You found it hard to resist me that night. Even now, you can't stop staring at me. J: Please, Ivy, stop doing this. Don't contact me again. Just then, my mother walked up to him, and he placed the phone back into his pocket, giving her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. They talked for a bit, and she led him back to the party. I decided I was done. But there was still one more thing to do. I waited until he held eye contact with me again. And I smiled at him. It wasn't kind. It wasn't gentle. It was a calculated, manipulative one - the kind that said, "You're stuck with me now." Only then did I rise to my feet, finish the alcohol in the bottle, and amble all the way to my room, feeling the peculiar heat of his gaze on me. I landed on my bed and, thanks to the alcohol in my system, fell into a dreamless slumber. When I awoke, it was late in the morning and to a pounding headache. I groaned, gripping my head as if I could somehow stop the assault to my senses. After gaining a semblance of control, I went to the bathroom to freshen up and dressed, ready to go out. With my hair flowing freely over my shoulders and my favorite shade of red lipstick on, I checked my outfit in the mirror. Simple, yet sexy. Exactly the look I was going for. Packing up my bag, I headed out of the room to the dining area where I met my mother and Julian. She was grinning at something Julian said, but they both stopped when they saw me approach. My mom immediately frowned, raising a questioning gaze at my outfit. "Where are you going, young lady?" she asked as I filled my plate with waffles and some cut-up fruits. "I'm going to look for a job," I answered as I poured syrup all over my waffles, then sat down. Julian had begun staring at me with an indescribable look on his face. "Where?" my mom pressed. "I don't know. Anywhere it's available." The atmosphere dropped ten degrees, the air becoming stifled as they both stared at me. "How are you going to move around then?" Julian finally asked, and I glanced at him, still munching on my waffles. "I'll take a taxi." He furrowed his brows. "You don't have a car?" "No... I sold it. Needed the funds," I muttered. My mother blanched, growing uncomfortable. She'd never provided anything for me before, and with the image she had created for herself, this revelation might cause a huge dent. I didn't care. I was enjoying this way too much. Julian, on the other hand, seemed uncomfortable with the idea of me moving around in a taxi. But I wasn't done. "Also, I need cab money. Anyone here mind borrowing me some cash?" "You don't have?" Julian asked, sounding stunned. "No, I've run out of that too," I said, leaning back in my chair. My mother was glaring furiously at me. I wished I could smile back. "You can take my car..." he started to offer, but I cut him off. "No, thanks. I don't want anything from you. I would appreciate it if you borrowed me some money, though. I'll be sure to pay it back once I get a job." "I think I have some money in my bag..." my mother started to say when Julian slapped something on the table. He pulled his hands away, and I saw it was a black card. I straightened up in my seat. He didn't look at Clarissa once as he slid the card across the table. "The pin is 6745. You can use it. And no need to pay me back," he muttered in a gruff voice. I looked at him, shocked, but quickly recovered, snatching the card off the table. "Thanks, J," I said, smiling at him as I stood to my feet. He mumbled a response I didn't quite catch, and I returned my mother's silent glare with a wink, sashaying out of the house. The moment the door closed behind me, I stared at the card once more, feeling my heart pound. There was going to be so much money in this... I bit back a squeal. So much money. So much power. Oh... I'm going to be having so much fun with this.