My Mafia Babysitter

twenty-three

Niklaus' lips meld against mine as his hands dip low on my back. His fingers brush across the curve of my backside until they meet the hem of my short dress. My left leg is hiked around his waist as he presses me against the nearest wall. I can feel his thick erection straining against his jeans as he grinds his pelvis into my opposite leg. His lips part from mine only to travel down my jawbone, tasting the skin of my throat as he whispers the things he is going to do to me. My core pools with sexual anticipation and I moan in approval. But suddenly, his warmth is pulled away from me. My eyes whip open in shock as I see my father straddling Nik on the floor, his hands gripping the younger man's throat. Niklaus thrashes from beneath my father, but the older man out-weighs the Hale man and Nik slowly begins to stop fighting. I throw myself on my father's back and attempt to pull him off, but suddenly I'm on the floor. Nik is nowhere to be seen but it seems I have replaced him. My father is hovering over me, his hands now on my throat. 

"Daddy... What are you doing?" My lungs begin to hyperventilate as his grip becomes tighter. My hands go to grip his bicep, as if my small palms could radiate my sense of fear. "Daddy, stop, it's me Violet." My windpipe begins to close and my vision begins to blacken. My survival instincts begin to kick in and I fight, my nails digging into his skin, my legs kicking every which way in an attempt to land a blow. "Daddy, you're hurting me!" I cry out softly, my voice sounding as though I've swallowed a pound of sand and rocks. 

I gasped loudly, my heart hammering in my chest just as it had in my dream. Slick perspiration dripped down my cleavage and down my back as I sat up in my bed. With my hand over my heart, I slowly stood with wobbly legs and made my way to the door. Opening it slowly, I tiptoed through the very same hall I had grown up in to find my way to the kitchen. Being in this room made me feel bittersweet. For so long, I had wished to back home in New York, and now that I was, I longed to be back home in Chicago. My now relaxed heart felt a deep urge to weep, but we had gotten past our crying phase. It had been two weeks since I had last seen Niklaus and it had been two weeks since I had last spoken to my father. 

Trying to mend our broken relationship, my father had offered me a new car (as long as I never drove it myself and always had a driver with me), a small black kitten named Osiris, and the ability to take online college courses. Having accepted the last two gestures, I had spent my two weeks back at home playing with my new kitten and studying for my Gen-Ed's. But no matter how many things my father tried to buy me, nothing came close to the hole left from Nik's absence. There were times I had woken up from a light sleep at the sound of Osiris' bell, thinking it was Bear, the puppy I had left back in Chicago. There were morning I would awaken to the sound of my door opening and my heart fluttered with the excitement of seeing Niklaus, only to realize it was a maid bringing me my breakfast. All of this weighed on my mind as I tried to psycho-analyze my dream as I descended the stairs to the kitchen. Once I had entered, I blindly made my way to the fridge. Pouring myself a glass of orange juice, I felt a presence behind me and turned on my heel.

"Good morning," He said, a smirk on his face as my jaw fell slack. This man looked eerily similar to Niklaus Hale. Both of them having the same long, curly hair and similar facial hair; however, this man was an inch or two shorter with a more circular face and a more playful demeanor.

"Who the hell are you?" I questioned, placing my cup of OJ on the counter.

"I'm-"

"Liam Rolland." A familiar voice said from the kitchen door. I turned to face my father who stood with a man near his own age. "Liam, this is my daughter Violet, Violet this is-"

"Liam Rolland, yeah, I got it." I interrupted, taking a long drink from glass. "Well, nice meeting you." I attempted to head back upstairs to my room before my father caught my bicep in his hand, prompting me to stay.