by Dani René
After dressing up in a cream dress, I pulled up my hair in a bun and chose a simple ballerina flat that matched my dress. I was dressed just in time when a knock sounded on my door.
“Yes?” I called.
The door opened and George poked his head inside. “Good evening, Miss White. Dinner is served. Both your mother and step-father are waiting for you downstairs.”
I smiled at the older man. “I’ll be there. Thank you.”
He closed the door behind him and I gave myself one final look in the mirror. “Okay, Snow. You got this. Be respectful to your mother and ignore Duncan King. Yeah? Yeah.”
I found my way to the dining room. They were both already seated at the table. Duncan at the head and my mother to his right.
Mother beamed at the sight of me. She pushed her chair away and rushed to my side, pulling me into a tight embrace. “Oh, my dear! How I’ve missed you!”
She rubbed my back, her voice filled with what seemed like motherly love. I almost fell for it. Almost fell for her fake affection until I remembered that she was the same woman who birthed me and then abandoned me five years ago. She was my mother whom I hadn’t seen for five years. The same woman who only called me exactly six times in five years.
Mother pulled away and gave me a once over. Her smile was tight. “You’ve grown so much, Snow. You look like the lady I always envisioned!”
“Thank you, mother.” I tried to smile back but I wasn’t as fake as she was.
It was better to shift the conversation from me to her. After all, my mother loved talking about herself. “Congratulations on your wedding.”
She took the bait so easily. Mother’s smile widened. “Thank you, my sweetheart. Come and meet Duncan!”
She stepped aside, motioning at the man sitting at the head of the table. “Snow, meet Duncan. My husband and your step-father. Duncan, meet my daughter, Snow.”
Our eyes met.
He didn’t smirk.
He smiled.
“Snow,” he said slowly. “It’s nice to finally make your acquaintance. We would have loved to have you at our wedding–”
“But it all happened so quickly,” mother cut him off, with a giggle. I winced at the high-pitched sound. “It’s okay, you’re here now.”
“Of course,” Duncan agreed. His voice was just as deep and rough as before, when he was in my bedroom, but it was the way he spoke that made me raise an eyebrow.
Respectful Duncan? What happened to brazen and improper Duncan?
This one was warm.
The one in my bedroom was cold.
Ha. Two-faced Duncan. He was acting all sweet in front of Mother. I nudged my chin up and leveled him with a hard look. Nice try, Mr. King. But I know who you really are.
He cocked his head to the side, studying me. I waited for that crooked grin, but it never happened. His lips twitched though, as if he found me interesting.
Mother patted me on the arm, breaking mine and Duncan’s silent staring contest. “Sit down, Snow. George said you didn’t have lunch. So, you must be hungry.”
I sat on Duncan’s left while Mother retook her seat at his right. Dinner was served as mother chatted, on and on about her wedding and honeymoon. I barely said a word. I only nodded at everything she said, smiling tightly, being respectful.
Duncan said a few words here and there, but was fairly quiet too. I swallowed down my food and when my stomach started to protest, I reached for my glass.
Except I didn’t touch the glass.
I touched a solid, warm hand.
I snatched my hand away and looked up at Duncan. “What are you doing?” I asked, louder than I intended.
He chuckled, ignoring my outburst and lifted my glass to his mouth. His lips parted and he took a small sip. Outraged, I looked at my mother for help but she only appeared confused.
Duncan placed the glass back on the table and pointed to my left. “Your glass,” he said.
I looked at where he was indicating and inwardly flinched. Oh, how I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole.
There was my glass. Non-alcoholic Champagne.
The one Duncan drank from was his. White wine.
“Oh,” I said, stupidly.
“Oh,” he repeated, as if to mock me.
I gripped my fork tighter. “I’m sorry. My mistake.”
He tapped the rim of his wine glass with his finger. “You’re not old enough for wine yet, Miss White.”
“Two weeks,” I shot back. “I’ll be eighteen in two weeks, Mr. King.”
His eyes darkened, a small glimpse of the Duncan I met in my room earlier. “Good to know.”
I looked away from him and met my mother’s eyes. Her lips had thinned and her expression was less giddy now. Uh-oh. Mother dearest didn’t look so happy that her husband was paying attention to someone else other than her.
I shoved the fork in my mouth, chewing on a much bigger piece of expensive and tender beef. Mother didn’t like when anyone else stole her spotlight.
I had to remember to stay under the radar.
Had to stay far away from Duncan King.
Chapter Four
Snow
Three days later
I didn’t know why my mother made me come here. She barely spent her time with me. In fact, in the last three days, we only saw each other at dinner. And during that time, she went on and on about her day, her friends, her favorite dress, her favorite food, her dream vacation, and oh how dreamy Duncan was.
She swooned.
I rolled my eyes.
Duncan wasn’t dreamy.
He was…eerie.
A 40-years old man who had one body but two very different personalities.
Warm and cold.
Sweet and mischievous.
Tender and mocking.
The perfect contrast. But Duncan King was one man. A married man, who looked at me and had my body responding in a way I never thought it would. Maybe it was the intensity in his eyes. Or maybe it was the way he was so arrogant in his look and in his words. Or maybe it was his voice, so deep, it made my toes curl. The low rumble of his voice would wrap around me like a cocoon and most times, I felt sinful for even having these thoughts.
A married man. My mother’s second husband. My step-father, and yet… there was a feeling inside my chest, a warmth in my belly and an insistent pulse between my thighs.
I hated him for making me feel this way.
I hated myself for wanting to sin.
This temptation was cruel.
I dropped my paperback over my face, shielding my eyes from the sun. It was warm today, hot enough for me to sit outside without a jacket. I specifically chose a yellow sundress, to match this weather. I curled my bare toes in the grass. It tickled but I liked it.
There was a sense of freedom here, that I didn’t have at the boarding school. Since I finished my final year, mother said I didn’t have to go back. I’d be eighteen soon, anyway.
But I had asked the Headmistress to make me a teacher’s assistant. I had been an exemplary student for the last five years and she agreed on the spot. I wanted to help the newer girls settle in. I remembered how lonely it was when I had been new.
And after all, the boarding school is safer option than the outside world, I told myself.
It wasn’t filled with havoc, sins and temptation.
All was in order. It was easy and peaceful.
“You should be more aware of your surroundings, Little Snow.”
My veins filled with fire and stomach clenched. I sat up, breathing hard. The book fell to my lap and I twisted around, looking for the man which the voice belonged to.
“Up here,” he drawled.
My head snapped up and I found him, sitting casually on the thick branch of the tree I had been lying down under. His back was against the trunk of the tree, one leg was stretched out while the other was bent to the knee, his foot planted on the branch. In his hand, there was a red apple.
D
uncan King looked well at home, as if he has done this many times… and had been sitting here for long hours.
“How long have you been here?” I asked suspiciously.
“As long as you have,” he replied without a pause.
Ugh! He didn’t even try to hide the fact that he had been stalking me.
I squinted up at him. “Are you a stalker now? Do you have any sociopathic tendencies we should know about?”
Duncan brought the apple to his lips and he took a bite, chewing leisurely before answering my question. “Stalking is a dangerous word, Little Snow. I’d call it… passionately watching you. And stalking would mean you shouldn’t be enjoying this.”
“Who said I was enjoying this?” I hissed with indignation. How dare he?
He twisted around, bringing his legs over the branch so they dangled. That wicked smirk was back. Duncan looked so arrogant in this moment, I wanted to both slap him and… “Your cheeks are red; you’re biting your lips; your breathing pattern has changed, the moment you realized my presence, your hand went between your legs; you’re clenching your thighs and your nipples… Little Snow, your nipples are hard and begging to be sucked on.”
My heart stammered and my lips parted, speechless. My head swam and I was – enraged and breathless.
“How could you…” I started but I was still lost at words. Shaking my head and trying to clear the image Duncan painted for me, I bared my teeth and practically snarled at him. “How dare you speak to me like this?”
He let out a laugh, sounding both humorless and mocking. Duncan jumped down from the branch and landed perfectly on his feet. Today, he wore black jeans and a black shirt. Aha, so right now, he was cold and mocking Duncan.
Whenever he wore his suit, he was ‘gentleman’ Duncan King – which was usually during dinnertime and in the presence of my mother.
In the last three days since I had been here, I tried my best to ignore Duncan’s presence in the mansion. I stayed in my room most of the day and spent a few hours up here, on the hill, overlooking the garden.
Some times I’d see him in the corridor, but I’d be out of his sight before he could even approach me. All day long, I’d feel watched. Sometimes, I’d see him hiding the shadows while I walked from the library to my room. He’d smirk and then would walk away without a word. As if he wanted me to feel his presence. Duncan King did nothing subtly.
We only exchanged two very brief conversations in the corridor and both times ended up with me stomping away from him because he was absolutely mannerless.
But during dinnertime, he was the perfect gentleman. In front of my mother, he was the doting husband. Mother and Duncan were perfect for each other – they were both fake.
I nudged my chin high, staring up at him while he peered down at me, his hazel eyes gleaming in the sunlight. “What would my mother say if she knew you were speaking to me like this? Her underaged daughter!”
Duncan squatted down to my level, unexpectedly. This new position brought us closer. His body heat enveloped me, and I smelled cigar and a musky cologne.
It must have been the sunlight, but this close, his hazel eyes appeared lighter. He cocked his head to the side, a strand of hair falling over his eyes. He was well pushing his 40s. I noticed the slight greys in his hair and beard, but that was the only indication that he was twenty-one years older than me. Duncan King didn’t look that old. He could easily pass as a man in his early thirties.
Duncan brought his head closer, our faces now only inches away. For the first time, I noticed that his nose was slightly crooked and there was a faded scar there. Did he break his nose when he was younger?
The corner of his lips curved up, only slightly. Like he was hiding a smile, as if he was sharing an inside joke with himself. It was then I realized, Duncan smirked, grinned, chuckled… but they never reached his eyes.
They stayed cold, always. Dead.
There was something eerie about it… I should have been more worried, that this strange man had dead eyes… and possibly, a dead heart. But I was lost in the moment.
Duncan brought a hand, as if to touch my face. His pupils grew darker and his palm paused a mere centimeter away from grazing my cheek. Instead, his fingers brushed against my loose strand of hair and he tucked it behind my ear.
I sucked in a shuddering breath. He didn’t even touch my skin, but my body felt… warm. “Your mother doesn’t need to know,” he said.
I glared, meeting his cold stare. “You are a married man, Mr. King.”
His index finger landed on my lips, shushing me. “Shh,” Duncan breathed. “This is our secret, Little Snow.”
He let his hand drop and my lips tingled. I could still feel him there. I was tempted to lick my lips, to taste his touch… but I refrained.
Duncan’s eyes hovered over my face before he blinked; looked away and then stood up. Without a word, he stalked away. His long steps took him further away from me.
When he was good distance away, he paused and then looked over his shoulders. Our eyes met. “Follow me. I have something to show you.”
He didn’t wait for response before he resumed walking.
It was that moment that changed everything.
I didn’t have to listen to him. I could have stayed where I was and ignored him.
I could have done many things different.
But I chose to stand up, chose to pick up my book and chose to follow Duncan King.
It was my choice.
And that choice turned into a very twisted ending.
Chapter Five
Snow
If you asked me why I followed Duncan, I didn’t know. I still questioned myself; why? He was my step-father who flirted with me without any shame. He said things he should never say to his step-daughter.
Duncan was vulgar. Inappropriate. Crude. Arrogant. Smug. Rude.
And his eyes, so cold… so dead.
As sheltered as I had been during my time at the boarding school, even I knew how dangerous a man like Duncan King could be.
Yet… I followed him.
“Where are we going?” I asked, falling into steps beside him. I had my paperback – a Harlequin romance – tucked under my arm.
Duncan spared me a quick glance; his hazel eyes dark. “A surprise.”
I squinted up at him. Side by side with Duncan, I felt so small. I had to crane my neck up to meet his eyes. “I don’t like surprises,” I said slowly.
He ran his fingers through his short beard. “Get used to it. You’re in for a lot of surprises, Little Snow.”
What did that even mean? Sometimes, Duncan spoke in riddles and it just confused me even more. No, that was a lie.
He intrigued me.
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
“Little Snow?”
“Yes.”
Duncan’s steps faltered. “Because, you are little. And when I say it out loud, it reminds me that you’re too young… and that I can’t touch you.”
Oh.
Why… why did it sound like his sentence was incomplete? Like he wanted to say something more.
Was that disappointment I heard in his voice?
And why did my stomach clench at his words?
Duncan had made it clear numerous times that he was interested in me. He saw me as a woman, not a little girl, not as his step-daughter. But why would he be? He was twenty-one years older than me. He was mature, settled… and married.
I was just… me.
And I sure wasn’t going to start an affair with my mother’s husband. Duncan might be attractive. He might intrigue me. And he did have me feeling things I had never felt before… but I would not be the cause of my mother’s failed marriage.
“Yet.”
I blinked. “Huh?”
His lips twitched. “Nothing,” he drawled.
“You shouldn’t be saying things like this, Duncan.”
“Mr. King to you,” he cut me off.
I rolled my eyes. “Seriously
? After all the things you’ve said to me – unfiltered and crude – you still want me to call you that?”
“Yes,” Duncan deadpanned. “You’ll have to earn the right to call me by my name.”
I chuckled without any humor. “You’re a strange man, Mr. King. Oh wait, should I call you… step-father?”
I was poking the beast, I knew that.
But there was just something about this version of Duncan that made me feel empowered and bold.
Duncan stopped so fast, I almost tripped when he twisted around and stepped in front of me. His face was like thunder, almost violent and I knew I was in trouble.
His lips curled and he bared his teeth, looking like the beast he was. “You’re full of sass today, Little Snow. I’d be very careful if I was you.”
I met his eyes without flinching. “Was that a threat, Mr. King?”
“No, that was a warning. Next time, it will be a promise of pain,” he growled. I felt the vibration down to my core and there it was again… the pulsing between my thighs, where I ached everyday since meeting Duncan.
“You won’t hurt me,” I breathed. Was I trying to convince him or myself?
He lowered his head, to meet my eyes. “I will hurt you. You will enjoy it and beg me to stop at the same time.”
My breathing stuttered and my whole body seemed to be hyperaware of how close Duncan was to me. Stop him, I scolded myself. Yell at him. Tell him to stop. Threaten him. Scream for help.
Instead, I went up on my tippy toes. Duncan straightened, the corner of his eyes twitching. His jaw hardened as I brought my face closer to his until our lips were a mere inch away. “Don’t you think I’ll fight you, Mr. King?”
His chest rumbled with a low growl. “Actually, I’d prefer if you fought,” he said, his voice low and guttural. “It will make it all so much more pleasing when I have you pinned under me, moaning, whimpering, so fucking wet when you beg me.”
I gasped, stumbling back at his words. Fire licked my veins and I felt something electric, such a sweet tormenting current going through my body.
