I WANT YOUR STEP DADDY, BESTIE

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Chapter 3 Chapter 3: Playing with Matches

Nadia’s POV

By nine o’clock, the quiet elegance of the Vale mansion was completely shattered.

Brielle had turned the outdoor patio into her personal club. Bass rattled the glass doors of the cabana, tequila bottles lined the marble counter, and four of her wealthy neighbors were already splashing in the heated infinity pool.

Brielle was in her element—reckless, loud, and half-naked in a metallic string bikini.

“Nadia! Drink!” Brielle barked, shoving a salt-rimmed glass into my hand as I sat on the edge of a outdoor lounge chair.

“I’m good, B,” I said, forcing my soft, sweet smile. “You know I can’t handle tequila.”

“God, you’re so boring!” she laughed, slurring her words slightly before tipping her head back and downing a double shot.

Across the wide patio, standing in the shadows by the outdoor bar, Kane watched everything.

He hadn't joined the party, but he hadn't left either. He held a glass of scotch, leaning back against the dark stone column. And every single time I looked up—every single time—his grey eyes were locked directly onto me.

He didn't care that Brielle was dancing on the poolside table. He didn't care that her friends were throwing ice into the pool. His gaze stayed pinned to my face, heavy, intense, and completely unblinking. It felt like a physical hand pressing against my throat.

By midnight, my skin was practically vibrating with nervous energy. My throat felt like sandpaper.

“I’m grabbing some water,” I told Brielle, who was currently slumped against a patio couch, arguing slurred nonsense with one of the guys from down the street.

“Bring me a lime!” she yelled after me.

I slipped away from the noise, sliding open the heavy glass doors and stepping into the air-conditioned silence of the main house. The grand kitchen was pitch black except for the blue ambient light under the island cabinets.

I pulled open the massive stainless-steel refrigerator, leaning into the burst of cold air to cool my flushed face. I reached for a glass pitcher of iced water on the top shelf.

“Need help with that?”

I flinched, almost dropping the pitcher.

I turned around so fast my heel slipped against the polished tile.

Kane was standing right on the other side of the kitchen island.

He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore. He wasn't even wearing a shirt.

My breath caught violently in my chest.

He stood there in a pair of loose grey lounge pants hanging low off his hips. His chest was wide, carved from solid muscle, and dusted with dark hair that trailed down into a v-shape below his waistband. The dim blue light caught the hard line of his abs and the broad expanse of his shoulders. Sweat glinted on his collarbone, looking like he’d just finished a late swim.

My heart didn't just beat—it hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. A sudden, terrifying wave of heat pooled right between my legs.

“I... I didn't see you,” I choked out, my eyes dropping down his bare chest before I forced them back up to his face.

“Clearly,” Kane said softly. He stepped around the island, his bare feet making zero noise against the floor. He picked up an empty glass from the counter, setting it down inches from mine. “You’ve been avoiding me all evening, Nadia.”

“I haven't,” I lied, my knuckles white against the edge of the granite. “I was just keeping Brielle company.”

“Brielle is drunk,” Kane said smoothly, pouring himself a splash of water from the pitcher in my hand. His fingers brushed against mine. The contact was brief, but it sent a sharp, electric jolt straight down my spine. “And you’re holding your breath.”

I swallowed hard, my mouth completely dry while my body did the exact opposite. God, he looked so good. It was sickening how badly I wanted to reach out and run my palm across the rough hair on his chest.

“I’m just thirsty,” I whispered, unable to pull my eyes away from his mouth.

“Are you?” Kane asked, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling growl. He stepped closer, pinning me gently between his body and the edge of the marble counter. The scent of cedarwood and warm skin engulfed me. “Then drink.”

I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.

Before I could lose what little sanity I had left, heavy, stumbling footsteps echoed from the hallway.

“Nadiaaa?” Brielle’s voice whined drunkenly. “Where’s my limmme?”

I jumped back like I’d been burned. Kane didn't even blink. He took a calm sip of his water, his dark eyes watching me scramble to pour a glass.

“Coming, B!” I called out, my voice high and breathless.

Without looking back at Kane, I grabbed my glass and rushed out of the kitchen, my heart racing at a dangerous speed.

---

An hour later, the party was finally over.

I had dragged a completely passed-out Brielle up the stairs, peeled off her sticky bikini, and dumped her onto her king-sized bed. She was dead to the world, snoring softly into her silk pillows, reeking of tequila and lime.

I changed into a silk nightshirt and slid into the opposite side of the bed, pulling the duvet up to my waist.

The room was dark, save for the pale moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains.

I couldn't sleep. I couldn't even close my eyes.

Every time I shut them, all I saw was Kane standing in the kitchen—bare-chested, broad, and smelling like pure sin. My skin felt hot. My pulse was throbbing in my ears. I squeezed my thighs tightly together, but it didn't help.

I was soaked. Restless, throbbing, and completely undone.

I tossed on my side, staring at the back of Brielle’s head, my hand gripping the bedsheets so hard my fingers ached. I hated how much he affected me. I hated that I wanted a man who belonged to my best friend's mother—a man who might already know every dirty secret I was hiding.

Then, a tiny, sharp click broke the silence of the room.

My head snapped toward the entrance.

The heavy brass doorknob turned slowly. The bedroom door pushed open, swinging inward without a sound.

A tall, broad silhouette stood in the doorway, framed by the dim light of the hallway.

It was Kane.

He didn't say a word. He just stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him.

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