☼ Sasha ☼

"Would you like to try on the shoes?" asked the sales assistant in a sickly sweet voice, her smile as fake as those nails which could easily take out an eye.

I was in a boutique on Rodeo Drive. I loved to shop—who didn't? But this place was way too pretentious for me. The moment I walked in, the staff stared at me as if I were about to infect their perfect little world with my mere presence. Maybe it was my yoga pants and vest; clearly, 'athleisure' wasn't part of their vocabulary.

Each one of them stood like statues—or maybe they just had sticks wedged up their asses. Either way, I wasn't too fond of their perceived superiority. Offering assistance almost killed them, and the blonde one who finally did acknowledge me had a voice as frigid as the air conditioning.

"No, thank you," I replied, my tone flat. "I don't like them."

"They're Prada!" she screeched as if I'd personally offended her.

Rolling my eyes, I ignored her shocked face and turned to the full-length mirror reflecting the long silver dress I was wearing. It was Chanel, of course-supremely classy and outrageously sexy. I would reluctantly agree that Helena had good taste. I gave myself another appraising shimmy in the mirror before checking the time, again.

I'd been here for half an hour. She was late.

Huffing loudly, I reminded myself of one of my life rules: make an effort not to hate anyone. Life was too short to waste that much energy on anything or anyone. But Helena, (my mother and trust me I used the term loosely), was testing the durability of that rule.

My phone pinged.

Ah, the woman herself. The message read: Sorry Darling, something came up. I will call later. Ciao.

Was she kidding me?

That was it.

I was done playing this game where everyone apart from me knew the rules. It was answers I needed and if my father was keeping tight-lipped and Helena was a no-show, then I would head over to Jarrod's home and force him to talk even if that meant putting him in a choke-hold, I wasn't leaving until I got some answers.

Shoving my feet into my sneakers, I picked up my pile of clothes and bag and headed out of the changing rooms.

"Miss..." said Miss Snooty hot on my tail. "You need..."

I flipped around with my hair almost whipping her in the face and arching an eyebrow dismissively I asked. "Has the dress been paid for?"

"Yes, but—"

"But nothing. It's mine. And unless you want to wrestle me out of it and lose a nail or maybe a finger or two in the process, then I'm leaving with the dress on."

Her cheeks flushed pink and she drew herself up, clearly indignant. "This is a high-end establishment. We have policies—"

I cut her off, my voice practically frosty. "Your policies don't override the fact that this dress belongs to me now. If you have a problem with that, take it up with someone who cares. Otherwise, I'm leaving."

She opened her mouth, but the determination in my eyes silenced her. And with my chin hiked I flounced out of the shop, feeling a mix of triumph and adrenaline, most likely looking a little crazy as I hailed a cab.

Twenty minutes later, I was standing outside pressing the intercom on Jarrod's gated estate, the property he'd inherited from his mother.

The gate opened with a soft hum, and I began my walk up the long, winding driveway. The mansion before me was a testament to Beverly Hills' wealth-with a façade of white stone and large, arched windows. Manicured lawns stretched out on either side, adorned with elegant topiaries and vibrant flowerbeds.

It wasn't my taste—a bit too pompous for me.

At the front door, I pressed the doorbell and stepped back. The door swung open to reveal Alistair, Jarrod's butler. Poor guy looked weary, he must have been pushing eighty and he had served his mother for years before her passing.

"Miss Darling," he greeted me with a slight bow of his head. "Mr. Collins is currently... indisposed," he chose his words carefully, his expression impeccably composed. "If you would like to wait in the main room, he will join you shortly."

I smiled and followed him through the grand entrance hall, my sneakers making a soft squeak on the polished marble floor. Everything looked the same as I remembered-high ceilings, ornate chandeliers, and walls adorned with classic artwork.

Meh, again... pretentious.

"Can I offer you some refreshments?" Alistair offered as we reached the main room, a spacious area filled with plush furniture and a grand piano.

I shook my head, smiling. "I'm good, thank you."

He dipped his head again. "Should you change your mind, I will be in the kitchen."

As I watched Alistair leave, I had an idea... maybe I could do a little snooping.

Listening to his retreating footsteps fade into the distance. I tiptoed out of the room and tried to remember where Jarrod's study was.

Ah, yes-down the hall, past the library, and to the right.

A gentle tap on the door.

No reply came back.

Checking over my shoulder I opened the door. It was empty. Quietly closing the door, the large mahogany desk was impeccably organised. Slipping my bag from my shoulder to drop it onto his high-backed leather chair.

I started with the desk drawers, pulling them open quietly. Inside, I found neatly stacked papers, a few pens, and a leather-bound journal. I flipped through the journal quickly, but it was filled with mundane notes and meeting schedules. Frustrated, I moved to the bookshelf, running my fingers over the spines of various business and law books. One book caught my eye—it seemed out of place among the rest. I pulled it out and discovered it was a hollowed-out book safe, but it was empty.

Rolling my eyes I moved onto the cabinets. None were locked and each contained several files. I rifled through them, finding nothing but old financial records and legal documents. Just as I was about to give up, a folder labelled "Confidential" caught my attention. I opened it and scanned the contents. There were several emails and letters between Jarrod and my mother, discussing some kind of investment scheme.

The details were vague and nothing that pointed to my father.

Blowing out a breath, well, this had been a bust.

Making sure I left everything in order, I swiped my bag and left the study and headed upstairs toward his bedroom. The grand staircase curved elegantly, leading me to the upper floor where the private quarters were.

At the top of the stairs, I turned left and walked down the plush carpeted hallway. I passed several closed doors, each leading to a guest room or bathroom until I reached the double doors of Jarrod's bedroom.

Should I knock?

He hadn't respected my privacy, so it was only fair...and about to twist the handle I heard something and pressed my ear to the door.

He was in there alright and by the sounds of the moans and grunts-he wasn't alone.

I opened the door and my eyes stretched impossibly wide.

Naked and grunting, he was railing... and this was the surprising part, Helena.

Sorry Darling but something's come up... her message repeated inside my head.

Yeah, something had come up alright.

A flash of irritation heated my body, but to be blunt it wasn't like I took issue with the scene in front of me, what was more shocking was how he was fucking her.

Wrists and ankles tied to a steel framed bed-that was new. Gag ball in her mouth, a sheen of sweat covering both their bodies, her muffled moans and screams creeping from behind her muzzle, and my fake-ass fiancé relentlessly pounding into... not her pussy. No. But her ass.

I stood at his door watching for God only knows how long, probably past was would be considered normal, stuck there unable to move or speak.

I didn't care that he was balls deep inside my mother; they were welcome to one another but what irked me was his lies about kink.

How he'd made me feel like I was the freak—not that I cared.

Enough of this. I cleared my throat and two sets of eyes shot in my direction. "Oops, I was looking for the bathroom," I snickered.

Jarrod pulled out so fast that the condom he was wearing was barely hanging on.

Helena mumbled something incoherent and I pointed. "You might want to take off her muzzle I think she has something she wants to say."

Jarrod did a double blink before his eyebrows sloped inward. "You were supposed to wait downstairs, Princess."

My nose wrinkled in disgust as I shot him a hate—glare, one that said I wished he'd be bitten by a swarm of angry wasps. "Don't call me that."

He merely smirked in reply and untied my mother, who stood up without the slightest hint of embarrassment at being caught. There was an eager gleam in her eyes as she smoothed down her hair and even had the audacity to smile at me. "You have impeccable timing darling."

That didn't warrant a response. "I don't know what this is, or what you have over my father, but whatever it is—I'm done being a pawn in your fucked up game!"

I turned and left them. Halfway down the stairs, I stopped and looked at my hand. I was still wearing Jarrod's stupid ring. With a sharp tug, I pulled it off and turned back, intending to throw it at him in dramatic fashion.

As I approached his room again, I slowed down when I heard their voices.

"It hasn't worked and I'm done waiting," Jarrod puffed out. "Just tell the spoiled bitch Ryan isn't her father already. I can get my hands on his company another way."

"Where's the fun in that?" my mother replied with a chilling laugh. The sound of it caused both irritation and unease to rake down my spine. "Don't worry, he'll agree to sell, and then, once everything is signed, I'll tell her that her precious daddy isn't her daddy."

Disgust, thick, and acid-like bile clogged my throat as I was rooted to the spot.

What the hell had my father ever seen in that woman? She made Dolores Umbridge from the Harry Potter films seem like a fairy godmother.

But I could feel my anger rising. So, they were blackmailing Daddy into giving up his business because he wasn't my biological father?

It was something I should have seen coming.

I almost freakin' detonated.

Almost.

Instead, my mind raced. If this was their big secret, I could end this charade right now. I had to get home.

Returning home, the door to my father's study was open and he didn't notice me standing in the doorway.

The familiar sight of him, buried in work, brought a lump to my throat.

My father had always seemed large and intimating, but right now he seemed less so and I was worried how he would take the news of me knowing the truth.

Fear tightened a hold on my heart.

Since his heart scare and now as I was getting older I could see the chips in my father's armour. The romantic way I used to hold him in as a child had been worn away a little.

Not that it dented how I felt about him. When I was younger and awoke during the night, I'd find him here, tirelessly working. He would scoop me up in his arms, carry me back to bed, and tuck me in and stay with me until I fell back asleep.

He'd promised me when my mother had left us that I would never want for anything. It was me and him he would always say and we made our own traditions over the years, Sunday morning pancakes. Movie nights. Our annual camping trips.

Knowing the truth didn't change that.

I couldn't love him more if he were my actual father. Blood didn't matter.

"Sasha," he looked up, his eyes widening as he took in my appearance. "Why are you wearing that?"

Oh, shit. The dress.

"Beautiful, huh?" I may as well give him the full effect because it was going in the trash when I'd done. Taking a few measured steps I did a twirl, the motion feeling surreal.

Daddy flashed a smile that showed all his teeth. "It's beautiful because you're wearing it, Princess."

I smiled, but then it slipped from my lips. "Daddy, why didn't you tell me you knew I wasn't your biological daughter?"

He froze, the pen in his hand dropping onto the desk with a soft thud. "Did she tell you that?" he asked through gritted teeth with his fingers bunching into a fist.

I shook my head. "No. Not directly." His expression mirrored the devastation I felt when I'd found out. "Is that what all this was about? She was trying to take your company, threatening to tell me the truth unless you gave up the company to her and Jarrod?"

"Sasha—" He pushed out his chair and walked around his desk with his hands raised as if trying to soothe an injured animal. "—I know this comes as a shock."

"Daddy," I softened my tone, pushing out the next words. "I already knew."

He stopped in his tracks, head pulling back and his hands dropped to his sides. "What?"

Swallowing, I pushed some hair behind my ear and confessed. "That time, when you had your heart scare and they diagnosed angina, a guy showed up out of the blue and told me. I didn't believe him at first, I mean it sounded crazy that a random stranger would turn up and declare he was my half-brother, but out of curiosity, I did a DNA test."

The colour slipped from my father's face faster than running water from a faucet. I took a deep breath and decided to lay it all out. "I know Senator Townley is my sperm donor," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Apparently, the man has trouble keeping his dick in his pants and there are quite a few of his mistakes out in the world."

"You knew..." he muttered more to himself as his face turned ashen, his eyes filling with a mixture of shock and pain. "Why, why didn't you say something?"

I hitched a shoulder. "Because I thought you didn't know and I didn't want to destroy what we have. I was worried if you knew, you might not want me." Helena had left without a backward glance and she was my mother. Who was to say my father would have wanted me if he knew the truth and I couldn't risk losing him too.

"Sasha..." He closed the distance between us and folded his arms around me, pressing a prolonged kiss to my head. "Princess, how could you ever think I wouldn't want you?" He pulled back, his eyes searching mine. "I didn't want you to know just in case it made you see me differently." He gently pushed a stray hair from my face. "But you are my daughter. It doesn't matter that I wasn't there for conception. I've been there every day since you took your first breath and I'll be there until I take my last one."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at him. "I was so scared, Daddy. I thought you knowing would change everything."

He hugged me tighter. "Nothing can change how much I love you. You're my daughter, Sasha, in every way that matters."

I buried my face in his chest, feeling the warmth and love which he had freely given me in abundance over the years. "I love you, Daddy."

"And I love you, Princess. More than anything."

We stood like that holding onto each other for some time, until I wanted to know... "What are you going to do about her, Helena?"

Letting me go he rubbed a hand over his forehead. "Fuck, I need a drink."

He went straight for the drinks cabinet, found a bottle of scotch, and poured the amber liquid into a crystal tumbler. He slammed it back and went to pour his second.

Shit, this wasn't good.

My footsteps crossed the room and stole the tumbler from him. "Daddy, alcohol won't fix this!" A pause whilst I sighed through my nose. "What are you going to do?"

"Sasha," he warned.

I held up a finger stopping him. "Don't care. I'm old enough to know." He might like to think of me as innocent but I wasn't blind to how my father had handled his situations in the past.

And then I had another thought. Zack. He was here because he knew. Was he going to help my father handle this?

"Princess..." he pried the tumbler from my grip and poured a measure. "That's not for you to worry over. It's getting sorted. Trust me."

"Is this a party for two, or can anyone join?" I heard a man's deep rumble.

Daddy looked over my shoulder and I flipped around.

Zack, with his imposing size, came walking into the room. My heartbeat instantly beat faster as I frowned, shooting him a death stare. If it bothered him he didn't show it.

His gaze moved over me like the heat of the sun and I forced myself to stand taller inadvertently pushing my chest out, which he did notice and a small smile curved his lips.

"We need to talk," he said to me with his authority coming as easily as breathing but I wasn't sure if I was ready to have the much-needed conversation with him, yet.

I moved away from my father expecting Zack to get himself a drink. He didn't he changed course with his hand now hovering at the small of my back and that crazy hyperawareness sparked along my spine.

Did he feel it too?

I glanced up at him and despite his blank expression, there was a razor-sharp tension in the line of his body. His dark eyes flicked down to mine, aware of curiosity—yeah, he felt it too.

I huffed and stepped away not liking how he affected me. "I'm going to get out of this dress."

Not waiting, I got out of there but felt Zack at my back. Stepping into the hallway I was about to tell him to back off but spinning around my nose bumped his broad chest.

"You look beautiful by the way," he said matter of factly.

My shocked gaze snapped up to find his staring at me, his eyes gleaming with desire... or it could have been amusement.

My heartbeat stumbled, but I quickly righted myself. "You may have sweet-talked Ellis but don't think that will work on me!" I threatened.

He gave me that rare smile that I could count on one hand I'd seen before. "Don't go far, little girl." He then took a step back and closed Daddy's door.

"Ugh," I pfft out.

But it didn't stop the shiver or the way my body reacted to his tone.