17. Daphne
Weston’s breathing is deep and slow, his arm lying heavy on top of me as his body wraps around me.
I stare at the clock, trying to shut off my brain so I can fall asleep, but his words from earlier keep echoing through my head. Is this real or is this all part of his fantasy? He told me he was reminding me who I belonged to that night at the bar and tonight again he asked if I was his. Is that what he wants? Or is this part of the control, the idea of having me all to himself to play with and use?
I feel a knot form in my stomach. Tonight at the jazz club was exciting but I’m still confused on his comment about my birth control. Did I hear him correctly? Between the music and being completely lost in what he was doing to me, I’m sure I misunderstood.
The same feelings of guilt are threatening to bubble up. I know what I’m feeling for Weston and it’s not just a fantasy. It’s real and if I’m not careful, I risk losing much more than just my job; I risk losing a man I’m falling in love with all over again.
I toss and turn, eventually falling asleep on and off for another three hours. It’s just after four. The sun still isn’t up but I’m worried about Daisy walking in and seeing this. I don’t want to confuse her or make her feel like her mother is being replaced. I hold my breath as I slowly slide my body out from under Weston’s arm. I grab my bra and panties, realizing that I’m going to have to do the walk of shame in the dress and heels I wore to the club last night.
After tiptoeing to the bathroom, I stare at myself in the mirror. I look tired. I open a few drawers and find a comb, trying my best to make myself look as presentable as possible with very little success. I get dressed, opting to cover my cocktail dress with one of Weston’s Oxfords before grabbing my shoes and purse and sneaking downstairs. I open my rideshare app, praying there’s a driver nearby. Just my luck, there’s one less than two minutes away.
I slip into the back of the car, pulling up my texts to send one to Weston explaining my absence when he wakes… or at least part of why I left.
Me: Good morning. Apologies for slipping out before you woke but wanted to make sure I had plenty of time to get ready for work. Hope you have a great day.
I close my eyes the remainder of the trip home, Weston’s lingering cologne on the shirt I took pulling images of last night from my brain. The way his eyes bored into mine as he whispered into my ear how beautiful I was, the way his lips trailed across every single inch of my body, exploring me in ways no man ever has.
* * *
“Don’t forget,students, we will be making fall crafts tomorrow and decorating our classroom. We might even have some special fall treats!” My students gasp in excitement, their little faces lighting up as the dismissal chime sounds, alerting us to the end of the day.
I speak to a few parents, smiling and telling the students that I’ll see them tomorrow. I glance at my phone, surprised that it’s the end of the day and I still haven’t received a response from Weston regarding my text after I left his place this morning. I was tempted to sign it with X’s and O’s or maybe a flirty emoji, but I’m still unsure what this even is between us.
“Yay, Daddy!” Daisy’s chipper voice makes my heart stop for a second. I look up from the papers I’m sorting on my desk just as Weston walks into my classroom.
Oh my God, how does he look even better every time I see him?Something coils in my lower belly as he walks slowly through the room toward Daisy. He’s wearing gray suit pants that fit like a glove, his usual white Oxford with an extra button undone today, his dark chest hair just visible.
“Hi, sweetheart.” He reaches down to rub his hand over her hair, his eyes slowly drifting from her toward me with a look that says I’m in serious trouble.
Shit.
“Why don’t you go play in the reading corner for a moment so I can speak with Miss Flowers, okay?”
“Okay.” She leaves her bag at her desk, running over to the beanbags in the far corner of the room, then plopping down and grabbing a book.
I try to swallow as he approaches my desk, but my throat feels like there’s a vise on it, squeezing it closed.
“Afternoon, Miss Flowers.” He says my name slowly as he stops in front of my desk.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Vaughn.” I smile sweetly, saying his name a little slowly, hoping the quiver in my voice isn’t noticeable.
“Can you tell me why I’m upset right now?” His eyes narrow as he settles his gaze on me.
I glance around the room as a few other parents wave at me before leaving us completely alone. I clear my throat, trying to buy myself a little time. “If I had to guess, I’d sa?—”
“Tsk, tsk.” He clicks his tongue at me as he shakes his head. “Now, Miss Flowers, we both know you don’t need to guess. You know why I’m upset. So I’ll ask you again, can you tell me why?”
“For leaving before you woke up?” Once again, I try to flash my sweetest grin but it doesn’t seem to do any good.
“Very good. Do you think that was something you should have done?”
“Well, I told you I needed to get to my apartment in time to change for work. I didn’t want to risk being late.”
“Now I don’t tolerate being lied to, Daphne.” He slowly slips his hands into pockets, drawing my attention to the way the material goes taut across his crotch.
“Look.” I stiffen my shoulders a little and lean forward, lowering my voice. “I didn’t think it was appropriate for Daisy to see me in your home.”
“And I recall telling you to let me handle it, didn’t I?” He doesn’t give me time to respond. “I also recall we’ve had a conversation previously about you attempting to insinuate how I should parent my child and I let you know how I felt about that.”
My mouth falls open a little. “That was not my intention.”
“Intention or not, that’s how I took it and I think what needs to happen is an apology”—he tilts his head down a little—“from your knees.”
I glance past him at Daisy, making sure she’s still preoccupied and didn’t hear him. “I don’t think that kind of talk is appropriate and I won’t tolerate it in my classroom, Mr. Vaughn.” I say his name sharply, letting him know that I’m serious.
He laughs, removing his hands from his pockets and leaning forward to plant them on my desk so that his eyes are level with mine. “What I find cute, downright adorable actually, is that you think you’re safe behind this desk—even after last night, you still think I give a fuck about rules?” I swallow nervously, excitedly as I watch his exposed forearms flex under his weight as he slowly drags his eyes over me. “You look good behind this desk, Daphne, but we both know you look far better bent over it.”
He winks at me, standing back up. “Daisy, let’s head home, sweetheart. Tell Miss Flowers goodbye.”
She jumps up from where she’s been sitting, running across the room to where her dad is standing with her backpack. “Bye, Miss Flowers! I’ll miss you!” I can’t help but feel a tug at my heart at how entangled I’ve become with this little girl. Her smile stretches from ear to ear as she waves at me enthusiastically.
“Bye, Daisy, see you tomorrow. I’ll miss you too.”
“Oh, one more thing,” he says, halfway out the door. “You can keep the shirt, as long as I get to take it off of you… again.” Warmth travels up my neck, remembering the way he took the last one off me on his yacht.
I turn my attention back to my desk, organizing a few things before I head home, a cheesy grin plastered across my face.
“It’s Daphne, right?” I lift my head, surprised to see Natalie walking through my door.
“Yes, it is and you’re Natalie.” I return her warm smile. “What can I do for you?”
“Well…” She hikes one hip up and sits on the edge of my desk, her cream shift dress rising up her thin, tanned leg. “First, I just want to say that I’ve heard wonderful things about you as the newest teacher here at Crestwood; truly, you have a glowing reputation here.”
“Thank you, I really love it here.” I’m being sincere but I’m not na?ve. This feels like there’s a big fat ‘but’ coming next.
“That being said, I wanted to talk to you… you know, woman to woman. Sisterhood and all that.”
And here it is.
“I know firsthand”—she emphasizes the word by tapping my desk with her long acrylic nails—“just how fun and exciting and downright satisfying riding the Weston Vaughn roller coaster can be, but I want you to understand that it’s not a very long ride. Before you even realize it, he’ll be on to a newer, younger, prettier attraction and you’ll be left standing on the platform.” She gives me an Oscar worthy performance of sincerity, but I know it’s not coming from a good place.
“Um, sorry. I think I got a little lost in the stretching of the analogy there—” I scrunch my face up in confusion.
“Oh,” she gasps and touches her chest. “Let me guess, he didn’t tell you that we were a thing, did he?” She pooches out her bottom lip and I feel my stomach roll.
I think back to that nagging feeling I had when his parents brought her up in the Bahamas. The way he seemed to quickly deflect and shut it down. I had a feeling and I chose to ignore it.
“What I’m saying, sweetie, is that as his late wife’s best friend, of all people I should have known better. I heard all the red flags from Mira and I still fell into his bed after she died. It’s embarrassing truly, to have to admit that I slept with my late best friend’s husband. Anyway, I would have been sick to my stomach had I not warned you. I do hope you understand this is coming from a good place.” She reaches her hand out and grabs mine, squeezing it before sliding off my desk and sashaying out of my room with a small toss of her hand in the air.
There has to be a misunderstanding here. Before I go into a full-blown panic, I take a few deep breaths and grab my things to head over to Weston’s and ask him to his face about this. I shut and lock my classroom door, taking the back stairs so that I don’t risk running into Natalie again. I slip out the back of the school, a sleek black Range Rover catching my gaze. Normally, I wouldn’t think twice about a luxury vehicle outside the school considering the type of school it is but rarely are they ever parked in the alley behind the school.
“Preston?” I say to myself as I squint to make sure it’s him. I watch as he leans into the driver’s window, the same long acrylic fingernails that were just tapping on my desk, wrapping around the back of his neck and pulling him in further. “What the hell?” I take the opportunity to run down the alley before they catch me watching them.
I’m not sure if Weston will be at home since he picked up Daisy or if he went back to the office, but I take a chance and head to his penthouse.
“Afternoon, miss. May I help you?”
“Hey, I’m here to see Weston Vaughn.”
“And is he expecting you?”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to go up. Just hoping you can let him know I’m in the lobby? My name is Daphne Flowers.” I realize I could call him myself and I may have to if the man behind the desk won’t alert him that I’m here, but I know that if I call, he’ll convince me to come upstairs.
He glances at his computer, typing something in. “Are you sure you don’t want me to just send you up? You’re on his approved access list.”
“I am? I—uh, no, no, thank you. I’ll just wait down here for him.”
“Okay.” He picks up the phone. “Hello, sir, there’s a Daphne Flowers down in the lobby to see you. Yes, yes, sir, I tried sending her up but she doesn’t want to go up; she’s asking that you come meet her down here. Yes, sir, okay, sir. Thank you.” He looks up at me after hanging up. “He’s on his way down.”
I can see a look of confusion on his face when he exits the elevator. He makes his way over to where I’m nervously perched on the edge of a bench in the lobby.
“Daphne.” He smiles as he approaches. “What are you doing? Why don’t you want to come up?”
“Is there some place we can speak privately?” I try to keep my voice hushed so my words don’t echo through the massive marble lobby.
“Yes, upstairs.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Come on.” He helps me stand and ushers me toward the elevator but I stop.
“No, I would prefer to not speak in Daisy’s presence.” I plant my feet and the smile slowly fades from his lips. He recognizes the look on my face.
“What’s going on?”
“Are you sleeping with Natalie?”
He lifts his brow. “No. Where is this coming from?”
“But you were—sleeping with her or you did? You two were a thing?”
He hangs his head, lifting his hand to slowly drag it through his hair as he lets out an exasperated sigh.
Oh God, she wasn’t lying.
“Yes. I did sleep with her a few times. It was in the past, a mistake that I regret but we were never a thing. Did she talk to you?”
“Why’d you lie to me about it then?” I don’t tell him that she did. I don’t want him telling her that I ran to him to tattle. I clench my jaw, trying to keep my tone even.
“I didn’t lie to you. You asked me if I was involved with her, if we were together, and I said no because we weren’t and aren’t.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s total bullshit. It’s a lie of omission and you know it.” I jab my finger toward him.
“You need to lower your tone, young lady.” He steps toward me, backing me into the alcove of the elevators.
“Don’t patronize me. How would you feel if you found out from Preston that he’d fucked me?” I shock even myself at my harsh words.
He grabs my hand, tugging me toward him. “Has he, Daphne? Has he touched you? Kissed you? Fucked you the way I have?” His eyes are dark and piercing, his words said through gritted teeth as he looks down at me.
“No,” I say softly. “But if he had, I wouldn’t have hidden it from you.”
He scans my face, his gaze softening a little as he releases my hand. He reaches up and cups my face. “She was a mistake and I’ve told her as much. I never should have slept with her. I was grieving and then lonely and then just a fucking asshole who needed escape instead of facing my feelings about Mira. That’s why I didn’t tell you about it. I was, I am ashamed and now that I have to work with her through this deal, I didn’t want you to be worried that I was still sleeping with her or that there were any feelings or desires there. I’m sorry, I should have told you.”
“So you two have been hooking up on and off over the last four years?” I struggle to believe that he has no feelings for her if that’s the case.
“No. It didn’t happen until the last year. I was struggling and she reached out to me because she was as well. It was around the anniversary of Mira’s passing. I mean it, Daphne. I’ve never had feelings for her and I haven’t been with her since I met you.”
“Thank you for apologizing.”
He rests his forehead against mine, letting out a slow breath. “The thought of Preston or any man touching you makes me want to tear them limb from limb, baby. You’re mine, you understand me?”
I don’t know what to say or feel. I’m terrified of what I’m feeling for this man, but I’m also terrified of being consumed by him. I wasn’t ready to fall again; I still don’t know if I’m ready. Sometimes I feel like I’m still running from losing my mom and Carson and my broken relationship with my father. I don’t know if I have enough to give someone else, let alone myself.
“I— I need some time and space.” I reach up and wrap my hands around his, pulling them from me.
“Meaning what, Daphne?”
“I just don’t know if I can do this right now. I’m not angry with you but I can’t just pretend like I’m not falling for you and your daughter, knowing neither of us are fully healed from our past. I don’t want to be just a distraction for you until the next best thing comes along. I just can’t right now.” I shake my head as I choke back tears. I know I’m running; I know I’m scared, and his expression tells me he knows it too.
“Look at me.” His voice is back to demanding. “You have one week, Daphne. Get out of your head and stop overthinking this. We both know this is more than a distraction. One week and I’m coming for you.”
* * *
One week later…
“I said yessss!” Xana holds up her hand, a gorgeous pillow cut diamond catches the light as she wriggles her fingers.
“You said yes!” I shout back to her as I grab her hand to get a closer look at the ring. I throw my arms around her, hugging her tightly. “Oh, you deserve this so much. I’m so happy for you and Ryan.” I look at the ring again. “And damn, he did a really good job,” I say, pretending to be surprised like he didn’t consult me before designing it.
“You knew, didn’t you?” She narrows one eye at me.
“I knew about the ring, but I had no idea when he was going to do it. He wanted to design the perfect ring for you so he did ask me for my input.”
“I figured.” She laughs, then holds her hand up to admire it. “I can’t believe I’m a fiancée.” She turns to me. “Will you officially be my maid of honor?”
“Of course, whatever you need, I’ve got you covered. Let me grab some wine, and then you have to tell me all about how he proposed!” I jump off the couch, grabbing a bottle and two glasses, and settling in for the romantic story.
“And when I walked into the room, he had spelled out in rose petals and candles, will you marry me? I literally screamed so loud and jumped into his arms I forgot to say yes.”
We laugh and talk, already brainstorming ideas for the bachelorette party. “I feel like this is too big of news to stay in. I say we go dancing.” Xana and I haven’t gone out dancing in forever. I’m not even sure we still know how to let loose and have fun.
For as much as I want it to only be about Xana’s special moment, I also could really use a night away from my constant thoughts about Weston. He promised me a week and today marks the seventh day since I’ve seen or heard from him. I’ve thought about our last conversation every single day. I’ve contemplated my feelings, trying to talk myself out of wanting what I want with him, but no matter how many times I tell myself that I’m not ready, my heart says otherwise.
I haven’t told Xana anything about my conversation with Natalie… I haven’t told her about Natalie at all actually. I’m fully prepared to get my heart ripped out and stomped on, so the less people who know, the better. Besides, this is such a happy time in her life, I’m not about to be the one who brings her down. God knows she’s had to be my shoulder to cry on enough the last two years.
“Oh yes, can we, please? Wait, I can’t go out in this.” She points down to her jeans and hoodie.
“Come on. I still have so many dresses in my closet from back in the day.” We go through the dresses, having a little movie montage moment of trying them on and dancing around my room until we finally settle on the right outfits. I shimmy my way into a silvery blue body con dress that hugs every curve and dip of my body, then I strap on a mile-high pair of stilettos that lace halfway up my calf. Xana slips on a hot-pink satin minidress complete with matching pink heels.
“Damn, we definitely still have it,” Xana says as we look ourselves over in my bathroom mirror.
“We’re only twenty-seven, of course we still have it. Now, I’m not sure if still have the dance moves or the stamina to hang out past midnight.”
“Challenge accepted.” She laughs.
We grab an Uber and head out, spending the next few hours dancing, laughing, and having too many fruity cocktails.
“By the way, any new updates on Mr. Vaughn? Oh, should we keep calling him Mr. Eiffel Tower, if you know what I mean?” She gives a very dramatic wink, making me laugh.
“He’s fine, still grumpy and moody and hot. Enough about him though; tonight is about you. Let’s get another drink!” I shout over the music, hoping my avoiding the topic wasn’t too obvious. It seems to do the trick because a few minutes later we’re back to dancing and laughing.
By the time I make it back to my apartment it’s after one in the morning, my feet are killing me, and my buzz has all but worn off into a nonstop yawn.
“Thanks. Have a good night.” I shut the car door and head upstairs, taking my heels off the second I get through my front door. I toss them along with my purse on the floor, walking over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. I chug it, tossing it in the trash and heading back to wipe off my makeup and crawl into bed.
“Argh,” I groan, contorting my arm as I struggle to reach the zipper on the back of my dress.
“Need some help with that?”
“Ahh!” I scream, spinning around to see a dark shadowy figure sitting in the chair in the corner of my bedroom. I stumble backward, catching myself on my closet door as I reach over and flip on my bedside lamp. “What the hell are you doing? How’d you even get in here?”
“I own the building, remember?” He says it calmly, his eyes never leaving mine. “I told you, Daphne, you had one week.”