Stepdaddy Savage

by Charleigh Rose

  “These people”—he lifts his free hand, pointing at all of them nonchalantly—“they never gave a shit about you, Dolly. These people frowned when you moved into my house because your mother had to work as a stripper to pay for your bills. These people talked behind our backs even before they knew our names. These people don’t matter.” God, he says that loud enough for them to hear, and I see eyes widening and hear gasps that don’t belong to me.

  And I get him.

  I get Graham.

  Because he’s right.

  I never belonged, and I never really cared up until now. I’m owning up to this relationship, because he is the man who brought me here and didn’t even flinch when people talked about mom and me like we were trash.

  I squeeze his hand in mine and nod. “You’re right.”

  He rewards me with another kiss, after which he gets up from the table and cocks his head to the door. “Let’s give them some space to talk about us. It’s not like they have anything else to do with their useless lives.”

  Again, I find myself grinning like an idiot. He’s such a badass for saying these things right to their faces. We walk out hand in hand, leaving my sandwich and our coffees behind us, almost untouched. For the first time since I moved here three years ago, I feel proud.

  “Remember, kiddo, gossip says a lot about people. But not the people who are talked about. Only the people who do the talking.”

  The drive to New York is surprisingly pleasant. I say that because Graham is not a pleasant man, and he is not a very chatty guy, either. But if we’re really going to do this, be a couple, I need answers and a ton of them. I ease into the creamy leather seat of his vehicle and close my eyes, taking a deep breath.

  “What have you done to Shawn? This is the third time I’m asking, so please just give me the whole story.”

  I can feel Graham shifting slightly in his seat, but I know it’s not because he is uncomfortable with my question. Mostly, he doesn’t give a damn. If he’s not intimidated by Shawn’s father, he is not intimidated by an eighteen-year-old blonde chick.

  “I may have added some color to his face.”

  There’s a brief silence before I ask, “Aren’t you afraid about him telling his dad?”

  He chuckles softly next to me, and my body melts in my seat. His voice gives me chills.

  “He’s not going to say a word.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he doesn’t have any teeth to say it with,” he deadpans dryly. I twist my head to look at him in shock, but his facial expression is still relaxed as he stares at the road ahead of us.

  “I scare people, Dolly. And when people are scared, they lay low. Don’t worry about Shawn.”

  This brings me to my next question, though to a slightly different subject.

  “Are you a mobster?”

  Deep down I already know the answer. The number of weapons he has in the safe in his office; I’d sneaked a peek a few months ago when his back was to me when he opened it. The cash, the car, our house, his shady joints. He’d been arrested twice before he married Annabelle and I’m not sure what for, but I have a feeling that it wasn’t for jaywalking while hurrying to save a puppy.

  “Do you really wanna know?” His jaw clenches now, and I take a moment to admire his strong profile again. I nibble on my lower lip.

  “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

  He takes a sharp inhale of breath, throws me a glance and goes back to fixing his gaze on the road.

  “I do what I have to do to take care of my family.”

  “Do you even consider us that?” I snap at his vague answer. “Your family?”

  “I consider you my family,” he says curtly and cocks his head to his window like he is trying to show me something. This is the first time I actually realize where I am. Deep in Brooklyn in front of a cemetery. Tombstones everywhere, and it’s not a pretty well-kept one either. My mouth goes dry instantly. “Your mother, not so much. But you? You’ll always be my family. But you’re not the only family I was referring to. Unbuckle yourself, Dolly. We’re going for a walk.”

  When we get out of the car, I hug myself protectively. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s really cold and dry outside or because of the graveyard. I feel uncomfortable but strangely enough, I’m not scared. I should be. He’s told me what he did to Shawn, and even though he dodged my mobster question, I know it’s only because the truth is ugly. Now he brings me to a graveyard, but I’m still not terrified of this man. Eerily, I am intrigued.

  Graham links his arm in mine and we start walking toward the black iron gate, which is spikey and scary, toward the cemetery. It’s open and with a light push, Graham opens the gate and tilts his chin toward the entrance. I walk in, and he does the same, closing the gate behind us.

  It seems like he knows where he’s going while he strolls up the narrow path of a small hill, littered with tombstones. It looks like a regular Catholic graveyard, full of Irish names like Donovan, McDonnell, Murphy and O’Shea. We spend the walk to the mysterious destination in silence and my heart pounding so fast and loud I can feel it in my toes. I have a feeling he is about to share something important with me, and I don’t know what or how I’m going to react. We pass another chunk of tombstones until we get to a smaller lot, one that looks remarkably taken care of in comparison to the other rows of gravestones. These look bright and new, smaller and most of them have fresh flowers on top of the stones.

  Children’s graves.

  This is where children are buried.

  Violent chills attack my spine and I hold back a sob. What’s going on? Graham stands above a small tombstone with pink flowers on top and points at it. It reads Kathleen O’Horn, so I know she is not a relative.

  Then who is she?

  “Kathleen was only twelve,” he starts, swallowing while staring at the tombstone. He looks so far away. Not physically, but mentally, he is not here. It scares me.

  “Her mother worked at my strip club. She was addicted to blow, just like your mom. But unlike Annabelle…she went the extra mile to get her fix.”

  I suck in a breath and close my eyes. Poor Kathleen.

  “Chrissy pimped her daughter. Kathleen was manhandled and abused. It went on for months until I found out. This was before your mom even started working for me, and I wanted to save Kathleen, but I didn’t know how. I gave Chrissy money, I even threatened her, but she always resorted back to using her daughter to get her next fix, until…”

  I touch his shoulder and even though he doesn’t shake me away, I know that he’s way too lost in his story, in his soul, to appreciate the human touch.

  “Until one of Kathleen’s clients got too rough, and that’s how she ended up here.”

  I close my eyes, feeling a fat tear rolling down my cheek. This makes sense. So much sense. Too much sense. Is this why Graham married my mother? So he can protect me the way he never could when Kathleen was alive? I open my mouth to say something, but he shuts me up by continuing his line of thought.

  “I brought Chrissy here from Ireland. We grew up in the same neighborhood. She was poor and didn’t have a job. I thought it’d do her good. But the guilt….” He shakes his head, turning around to look at me. His eyes are sad. For the first time in my life, I see Graham Savage’s sensitive side, and I have a feeling this is not going to repeat itself anytime soon. “The guilt ate me alive, Dolly.”

  “So you wanted to save me,” I finish softly, and he lifts his hand, caressing my cheek gently.

  “I can honestly say in good faith I walked into my marriage with your mother with semi-good intentions. To take care of you both and to get that green card. But you weren’t Kathleen. You were…stronger. The reason why your mother never sent you to work the streets is because she knew you never would.”

  I don’t want to think about it, but maybe it’s true. Annabelle used to get mad at me when we were still living together, just the two of us. She got mad at me when she needed to feed me an
d wanted to spend the cash on drugs, and she used to get really pissed when I asked for new shoes or textbooks for school. But every time she tried to coax me into helping her out, she didn’t even say what she wanted me to do, I just had a gut feeling it wasn’t right, I shook my head violently and said that I’ll have to ask Nana if it’s something worth doing. That’d shut her up right there. She knew my grandmother would never let these kind of things happen to me.

  “I wanted to save you, but then something weird happened, Dolly. You turned into someone I never expected you’d be, especially with your kind of upbringing. A good girl, who doesn’t fuck around, who is interested in dancing and dreams about going to a good college. You looked at me respectfully, but never tried to get too close. Not a gold digger, and not someone who cares about my money too much. I started noticing you, and it was terribly inconvenient, both for my mind and my cock. I wanted to fight it, I didn’t want to be the guy who fucks his step-daughter, it’s bad for business this kind of reputation, but then I realized that you were never actually my daughter. You refused to accept me as your father and I…I never really looked at you fatherly either.”

  I chuckle sadly. It was the truth. Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I ask, “So what made you finally let go?”

  “You,” he responds quietly, squatting down and rearranging the flowers on Kathleen’s grave. Without asking him I know for a fact that he’s the one who put them there. And maybe even every week, or every month. It makes me love him even more.

  Fuck, love him.

  I love this man.

  The realization hits me hard, like a punch to the gut, and I gasp for air.

  “I knew when you entered my club that it was a sign. A sign that you’re mine. A sign that you always were. When those idiots hit on you and you raised your eyes to the second floor and saw me, it was fate. Corny as shit but it was. Because you were looking for something else, someone to save you from those assholes. You found what you were looking for.” He smiles, but not happily, at the grave. When he stands up, I notice that he’s holding one of the pink flowers in his hand. He hands it to me.

  “This will never happen to you.”

  “I know,” I whisper. We stand in front of one another for a long minute before he says:

  “What do you wanna do?”

  I lift my eyes, and know that even though I don’t say it, he sees it, “I want to make you happy.”

  “I meant right now,” he smirks.

  I nod, and repeat myself.

  “Make you happy. That’s what I wanna do. Now. Tomorrow. Anytime.”

  A week passes by. I still think about the graveyard incident, but Graham and I don’t talk about it anymore. I go to school every day and it’s weird not having Shawn around. He got out of the hospital three days ago, but said he still hasn’t fully recovered from the minor car accident he was involved in. Just to make sure the story is legit, Graham smashed Shawn’s Jaguar into a tree on the outskirts of Princeton. Since Shawn was drunk and coked up when he tried to get into my pants, and traces of both alcohol and cocaine were found in his blood stream, this made total sense to the hospital staff and his parents.I’m not sad for him. I just hope Graham is right and Shawn will never try doing this to another girl ever again.

  Jade is still pestering me about my relationship with Graham, so I finally decided to make it “official” by inviting some of my friends over for dinner with him. I figured it’d make everyone see that we’re just a regular couple and maybe make them ditch the whole “Dahl is screwing her daddy” running gag they’ve been taunting me with. I invited Jade, Britney and Sarah, another friend from school. Graham invited Carter, a guy named Ross and his younger brother, a guy I’ve never met before, Cole Savage. Graham was always careful to keep his real family separate from Mom and I. We saw t Cole is twenty-five and they’re only half-brothers from their dad’s side, but I am still eager to impress him.

  For the past week, we’ve spent every single evening together. We have dinner, discuss our day and fuck like our lives depends on it until the early hours of the morning.

  It makes me feel like a grown up. Like a woman. Like someone who is loved. I know my mom will be back soon, but I opt for denial at this stage as per usual. No harm in trying to forget about it. I mean, it’s going to happen anyway.

  I’m in the kitchen now, making my special roast, the one Nana taught me how to make, and fry some bacon for my egg and bacon salad. I stand in front of the stove, flipping the juicy pieces that sizzle in my pan, when I feel his hard body grinding against mine. He is enveloping me from behind, planting a kiss on my shoulder and snaking his arm next to my waist to steal a piece of bacon. Graham throws it in his mouth and chews on the crispy piece of meat, deliberately doing so while his mouth is on my ear.

  “So fucking tasty, but it’s not the only thing I wanna eat right now.”

  “Then you’ll have to starve.” I cock an eyebrow, smirking as I fish some of the bacon out of the greasy pan and throw it into a bowl. “Because I need to fix dinner for eight, and I’m not even halfway done.”

  His cock pokes at my ass cheeks and damn if I don’t want to turn off the stove, order some Thai food and tell my guests to deal with it.

  “Oh, she’s sassy.” He sucks on my earlobe, palming one of my tits and circling his thumb around my nipple through my shirt.

  “Does that annoy you?”

  “Not really. Every time you say something mouthy, I just picture your lips around my cock. That’d silence you in a second.”

  I turn around, opening my legs wider and hoping he’d take the hint, grab me by my ass and carry me upstairs, even though my inner thighs are still recovering from our session last night, when the doorbell chimes and Jade walks in swiftly like she owns the place. Graham offers me a look that says that he is unimpressed, reaches behind me, takes another piece of bacon and gets out of my personal space.

  “Hi, Mr. Savage!” Jade waves the bottle of cheap wine she brought in her hand. Jesus. We’re not even trying to disguise the fact that we’re drinking underage.

  “Hello, Jade. Call me Graham. Mr. Savage was her step-dad.” He cocks his head in my direction, and I giggle. Jade licks her lips and eyes his ass as he walks out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I smack my best friend, snatching the bottle of wine from her hand.

  “Stop sizing up my man.”

  “He really is stupidly gorgeous, you do know that,” she replies like it’s a bad thing, scrunching her face.

  “Yes, it’s a problem. When his face is between my legs while he eats me like I’m his least meal, I sometimes yank him up by the hair just to get a kick out of having this gorgeous man serving me like I’m his queen.”

  “I hate you. I’ll never have a sex life as satisfying as yours.” She punches my arm lightly.

  “I have a feeling that’s not true.” I laugh.

  A knock on the door sends our heads flying, and I give Jade the task of chopping the bacon and eggs while I answer the door. Britney and Sarah hug me and they brought a cake for dessert. Five minutes later, Graham climbs down the stairs and join us, having changed from his usual attire of an expensive suit to a pair of dark denim pants, white V-neck shirt and he’s barefoot.

  The house is full of people, laughter and banter, and the kitchen is hot with food, and it’s the first time this place feels like a home. I think Graham feels it too, now that I watch him laugh at something Jade said, the wrinkles near his eyes showing that he is genuinely happy.

  When the doorbell rings again, he goes to greet his friends, and when they all walk into the dining room, all four of us girls nearly drop our glasses of wines along with our jaws.

  Shitting hell, Cole Savage.

  If I thought Graham is a hottie, then Cole is a whole different ball game. He is so gorgeous it should be illegal. A cross between Jason Momoa and Brock O’Hurn. I want to cry just from looking at him. Tall as a tree, wide as a fucking building and with a light brown manbun and green eyes. H
e’s got sexy stubble and a playful smirk. Jesus, this man.

  Jade clutches my thigh under the table. “Wherever he’s sitting, I’m sitting next to him.”

  “But what about Carter?” I protest on a whisper.

  “Fuck Carter. I mean that literally, unless, of course, Cole is game and then Carter can go fuck himself.” Wow. That’s a lot of fucks in one sentence.

  “Okay, but what about me?” Jade sat next to me the minute we set the table.

  “Honey, I love you, but as of two second ago, you’re no longer my best friend in this room. He is.”

  I can’t help but laugh when Graham introduces everyone to each other. He does so with the formality of a European man and I love how he can be both playful and serious. He takes the seat Jade sat in just a second ago and we all dig into the food I’ve made. Looking around me at all these people, I have to admit that I am happy. Genuinely, surprisingly happy. I can get used to that. A part of me is sad that I’ve never experienced it before. I mean, even during Christmas, Graham would have someone set up a tree in our drawing room and we all bought each other presents and opened them on Christmas morning, but that was it. No dinner. No down time together. No nothing.

  “So, Cole, tell me what you do.” Jade smiles widely, and hell, she’s pretty. I can’t blame Cole for looking at her like he’s having her for dessert. Only problem is, Carter is sharing the sentiment, which makes them both hungry for the same dish.

  “I do whatever you want me to do,” he responds smoothly, winking at her, but not in a creepy way. Jade almost dies right here, while Britney and Sarah giggle. Carter takes a swig of his beer, and the room is so full of hormones, I’m starting to feel mine taking control of my body. I reach under the table and stroke my boyfriend’s inner thigh and even though Graham’s face remains indifferent, he reaches down and stops me, grabbing my wrist in his firm hand. I wince, and when he guides my hand to my own thigh, my eyes widen. I am wearing a skirt, and because of the central heating I didn’t bother with wearing any leggings either.