Chapter 13
Elena
I wake up with the memory of Cullan growling in my ear as the last wisps of sleep float away.
“You want Daddy’s thick cock, don’t you?”
That’s the dirtiest thing I’ve ever heard.
Memories of last night come tumbling back into my head.
All the crazy, heated things that happened between me and my ex’s dad.
The things that almost happened. I press a cool pillow to my flaming face.
Sex with my older ex-boyfriend’s dad. I can’t think of anything more morally outrageous and delicious.
I got my first feel of how big and thick he is.
Startlingly big. Alluringly big. A thick, heavy shaft that’s as tempting as it is intimidating.
His finger inside me already felt like too much, and he didn’t push it very deep.
I wonder if he would have carried me over to his bed right then if I hadn’t pointed out the blood on his arm.
He explained about his nosebleed earlier during his poker game, and then Rosie woke up and started crying.
Cullan wrapped his dressing gown over my naked body, kissed my forehead, and the spell was broken.
I reach for his dressing gown, bundle the soft fabric against my face, and breathe in deeply. It smells like him. A deep, rich scent, overlaid with comforting masculine notes of seasoned wood and smoke. I can feel his body close to mine and his hot breath in my ear, and I moan softly.
This morning I will go downstairs and face him in the cold light of day.
I won’t know where to look or what to do, but he’ll probably be fine, leaning one hand against the marble counter as he calmly drinks his coffee.
Last night was probably no big deal to him.
That first time I met him he got down on his knees to tie my shoelace.
It felt special in the moment, maybe he does that kind of thing to women all the time.
I’ve played this game already with his son, me thinking we had something special while he just wants to get into my pants.
I must always remember I’m nothing special. That thought calms my racing heart and brings me back to earth with a thud. I can’t get carried away. Lose grip on reality. Get hurt.
I fumble for my phone and send a text to Leon. There’s something I should do before things get more complicated than they already are.
Elena: In case it wasn’t obvious, you and I are broken up .
He replies a minute later with a thumbs-up.
I glare at the little yellow thumb. I’m a joke to him. I probably always have been.
I throw my phone away in disgust and hug Cullan’s dressing gown.
For weeks I fooled myself thinking that Leon and I were something real.
Why was he even dating me? Did it make him feel good that broke, struggling, insecure me thought the world of confident, well-off, and smart Leon?
I never felt like I had much to offer, and I never noticed that what little I did, he viewed with disdain.
Rosie is still fast asleep, so I have a quick shower, get dressed, throw my hair into a messy bun, and make my way to the nursery.
There’s a handwritten note on the nursery chair.
Elena,
I had to leave early for a job this morning, but thankfully you’re here, and I know Rosie is in loving hands. I hope the two of you have a lovely day together. Call me if you need anything. I’ll be thinking of you both.
Cullan will be thinking of us both. His thoughtfulness makes me smile, but what makes my heart glow is the gratitude and appreciation in his words.
“It’s you and me today, petal,” I tell Rosie as I pick her up out of her crib. “But Daddy’s thinking of us both.”
“Da-dee,” Rosie echoes sleepily, looking around for Cullan.
My face turns red as I carry her downstairs because I just called Cullan Daddy out loud.
Thankfully he didn’t hear me. Or maybe he did hear because I said it in the nursery where there are three baby monitors.
I can picture the amused smile he’d be giving me right now if he were here.
Or a dark, smoldering look like the one he was giving me while he called himself Daddy with his finger thrusting inside me.
My face flames even hotter.
While Rosie’s in her high chair eating mashed banana and yogurt, I hold my phone and nibble on my thumbnail.
Should I text Cullan with what Rosie’s doing as a thinly veiled excuse to tell him good morning?
I feel the need to say something to him after he stripped me naked and made me come last night.
I saw a different side to my boss last night.
I think I like this side of him. Certain parts of me certainly do.
Heat rushes to my core as I recall being in Cullan’s arm’s last night.
In the end, I decide to play it cool, not text Cullan, and read the news instead.
When I open the news website in my browser, a headline screams at me.
Three Dead in Home Invasion Spree Killing.
I frown and click on the article. There are a few photos of a house on the southeast side of town surrounded by yellow police tape. People wearing white disposable body suits are entering the property.
“ Police are searching for a spree killer this morning after bodies were discovered in a south Blackport home ,” I read under my breath.
“ The three people dead are Terrence and Brenda Margulies, 49 and 47, and Mrs. Margulies’s mother, 72.
The bodies were discovered this morning by the cleaner, and neighbors have reported nothing suspicious.
All members of the Margulies household died in their beds before alarm could be raised.
Causes of death are not known, but crime scene investigators were seen placing a hammer that appeared to be covered with blood into an evidence bag . ”
Blackport is no stranger to violence and murder, but this seems particularly cold-blooded, taking a hammer to a sleeping couple and an old woman.
I shudder as I picture what the bodies must have looked like when the cleaner walked in.
What the crime scene must look like. There must have been blood everywhere.
I put my phone down and try to think of something more pleasant. I’m reminded of the blood on Cullan’s arm last night. I do have a good reason to text him.
Elena: How’s your nosebleed? I hope it didn’t come back.
Cullan: All better thanks.
Cullan: Check out this handsome fellow.
He sends me a selfie of him kneeling amid a pile of tools and wires with his arm around a golden retriever. The dog has a happy smile and its tongue lolling out.
Elena: Cute. The dog’s not bad either.
He sends me back a winky face, and I grin at my phone until Rosie makes it clear that she’s ready to get down from her high chair and play.
“I hope you don’t mind me flirting with your dad, Rosie,” I say as I carry her back up to the nursery.
We spend a happy morning playing with her dollhouse and colored blocks.
I put on some music, and we dance together.
I hold Rosie’s little hands and sing while she laughs, jumps, and stomps her feet.
After that we settle down in the nursery chair with a storybook, and she falls asleep cradled in my arms.
I close my eyes and hold Rosie, enjoying how wonderful this feels, looking after a sweet little toddler.
Making her smile and laugh. Watching her grow and learn.
Safe and warm in Cullan’s home. I’ve always wanted children, but I’m surprised how fast I’m getting attached to Rosie.
My mind is busy thinking of fun ways we could spend the afternoon.
While she’s down for a nap, I tidy the nursery and put on a load of laundry. Just after midday, I fix lunch. A turkey salad for me, a peanut butter sandwich for Rosie, and some sliced grapes for both of us.
We’re sitting at the kitchen table eating and singing the theme song to Rosie’s favorite TV show when I hear the front door open. There are footsteps in the hall, and I wonder if Cullan has finished work early. But then, he’d come in through the garage, not the front door.
A moment later, Leon appears in the kitchen doorway. He’s surprised to see me sitting at the kitchen table with Rosie.
No. He’s shocked.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
For a moment, I can’t answer. I feel like I’ve been caught lying or stealing something. Like I’ve done something wrong, even though I have every right to be in Cullan’s house. “I’m the new nanny,” I say through numb lips .
Leon’s eyebrows creep slowly up his forehead. I’m just taking care of his sister, yet he’s looking at me as if I’ve done something offensive.
Leon can’t possibly know that I’ve been fooling around with his father, but I feel as though it’s written all over my face.
His lip curls in a sneer, and he turns away, shaking his head. “I always knew there was something off about you.”
My face flames red. Leon goes upstairs, and I suppose he came to get something from his room. I hear him come down again, and he leaves the house without another word.
There’s pressure in the back of my throat, and my eyes sting. For a moment, I feel like I do when I’m in church, when all the figures in the stained-glass windows are pointing their fingers at me and screaming that I’m a whore.
“Lay-na, Lay-na,” Rosie sings uncertainly, wondering why I’ve suddenly and completely shut down.
I quickly swipe the tears from my cheeks and smile at her. I will not cry because of Leon. “Do you want to play paints? Let’s play with paints in the garden.”
We spend a pleasant afternoon outside with pots of paint in bright colors and big sheets of brown paper. For a while, she grips a brush in her fist, and I help her dip it in the pots and spread it across the paper. Then she decides that using her fingers is much more fun.
When Rosie’s finished playing, I leave the painting to dry on the outdoor table and we go inside to get cleaned up.