The VIP (18+ Only) [COMPLETED] [Winner of a Wattys 2014 Instant Addiction Award]

5: In Which She Takes a Walk Down Memory Lane

5: In Which She Takes a Walk Down Memory Lane

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By the time the knock at my door resounded at ten to seven, I had just put the finishing touches to my makeup. Orgasms certainly put a spring in a girl’s step. Thoughts of orgasms inevitably brought thoughts of Nikolai – visions of him touching himself last night, visions of him exploding in ecstasy.

Those images – especially of that sexy-as-sin cock-piercing of his – were permanently etched on my mind and I found that I was practically salivating when I pulled open the door…and came face to face with my dad.

I immediately thought of the most unsexy thing I could think of – Danny DeVito in a thong; no wax – and schooled my face into innocent pleasure at seeing my father so early in the morning.

“Hi, Dad,” I said, flashing him a grin he didn’t return. Heat crept up my neck when he wordlessly strode past me, a cloud of his familiar cologne following in his wake. “Is everything OK?” I asked, unable to stifle the note of childish hesitancy in my voice. Devin Shaw just brought that out in me.

“No, Ophelia,” he replied through clenched teeth, standing in the centre of the suddenly matchbox-sized lounge. “Everything is not okay.”

I flinched. “W-what happened?”

A myriad of things flashed through my mind, the first being his discovery of the grown man who’d shown his only daughter that she could come years ago. It was stupid to be afraid of my father’s reaction to my growing sexual attraction to Nikolai Alvonich. Twenty-four – that was what was in my passport, and that was how I was supposed to be treated. Unfortunately, my father hadn’t received that memo.

“Remember when you were nineteen and you totalled Ruby?” Dad’s voice was eerily quiet.

I winced, recalling how Ruby – a gorgeous red Chevy Camaro my dad had restored as a sixteenth-birthday gift to me – had met her untimely demise courtesy of numerous body shots off a college guy I’d met at a bar. I’d been lucky that night, more or less escaping with a few stitches and a wave of regret. One DUI made up my entire criminal record but it wasn’t even potential jail time that had scared me to death; it was my father.

“You disappoint me, Ophelia,” he’d said when he’d come to the police station to fetch me sometime after three. His eyes were brimming with displeasure. “Somehow, I thought you wouldn’t repeat my mistakes. Now wasn’t that naïve of me?”

Disappointment, especially when it was from my father, was a tough pill to swallow. Anger, I could take. Hell, even a beating – but disappointment? It hurt like hell.

He was looking at me like that right now.

“How could I forget? I loved her,” I cautiously replied.

“And didn’t you promise me that there would never be any secrets between us – you, me and Rory?”

I swallowed. “I did.” Why the fuck did I do that?

“Then why,” Dad began, “didn’t you fucking tell me about this?” Before I could even blink, his phone was shoved in my face and I was staring at a black-and-white photograph of me in a Zara Paulsen cocktail dress, tugging a dark-haired man in a suit behind me by the end of his tie.

I stared at the photo – which was an email attachment from Rory – for a second before glaring at my father. “What’s the problem? I’m dressed, aren’t I?”

His caramel skin actually turned a vicious red as he glowered back down at me. “Don’t get sarcastic. You know how I feel about this modelling bullshit!”