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Forbidden touch: Taming my stepfather
Chapter 1 The New Husband
Amelia's pov
My phone buzzed against the nightstand, breaking the silence of my small room. I already knew who it was before I looked. Victoria never called unless she wanted something.
"I'm sending you an address," Victoria said, without so much as a hello. Her voice carried that familiar sharpness, the tone she used when she expected obedience and nothing less. "You're coming to my new husband's house. Today. And Amelia, behave yourself. Don't embarrass me."
"Yes, Mum," I said quietly, the words automatic, worn smooth from years of repetition. It didn't matter that they tasted sour in my mouth every time I said them. Victoria demanded it, and I had learned long ago that refusing cost more than it was worth.
"I mean it," Victoria pressed. "This one is important. Don't ruin this for me."
"I understand, Mum."
The line went dead.
I set the phone down and stared at the ceiling for a long moment. A new husband. A new house. A new man to smile for, to be carefull around.
I muttered to myself as I rose from the bed. "Another stepfather. Let's hope this one isn't as foolish as the rest."
The others had been easy to read men, who mistook Victoria's beauty for warmth, who never noticed that Victoria was only there for what they could offer, who found some quiet pleasure in mistreating me. I didn't expect this one to be any different. I just hoped he wouldn't be as unkind as the others had been.
I picked up my phone again and dialed Maya.
"She's married again," I said, before Maya could even finish her greeting. "I'm heading to his place today."
"Already?" Maya sighed on the other end. "You okay?"
"I will be." I moved to my closet, pulling out a small worn bag. "It's just another house. Another man to stay invisible around. Another man to call 'dad,' or by his name, if that's what he'd prefer."
"Call me the second you get settled," Maya said. "And Amelia, if it gets bad, you call me first. Promise me."
"I promise." My voice softened. "Thank you, Maya. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You'd survive," Maya said gently. "You always do. Just be careful today, okay?"
I hung up and turned to my desk, my favorite spot, where I kept the magazine, my little secret, the one only Maya knew about. I picked it up carefully, the way I always did, like it might crumble if I wasn't gentle enough.
Leonardo Moretti stared back at me from the glossy page, jaw set, eyes unreadable even in print. I'd read the article a hundred times. I'd memorized every detail of his face long before I memorized the words.
My fingers traced the line of his jaw, then up along his cheekbone, slow, like I could feel the warmth of real skin instead of cold paper.
I pressed my lips to the magazine, a small, almost embarrassed gesture, and folded it back with careful hands before sliding it deep into my bag, beneath my clothes, where no one would think to look.
'I wish I could meet you one day,' I thought.
Then I zipped the bag shut, took one last look around my small room, and left.
The address led me to a penthouse that made my breath catch the moment I stepped out of the car. Glass walls rose toward the sky, catching the afternoon light in sharp, clean lines. I felt uneasy for a moment, double-checking the address on my phone to be sure I was in the right place. Once I was certain, I stepped inside.
A doorman greeted me with practiced politeness and led me up in a private elevator that opened directly into the apartment.
The space inside was vast marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, furniture that looked like it cost more than everything I had ever owned combined. I stood in the entryway for a moment, gripping the strap of my bag, that same uneasy feeling settling low in my stomach.
Then I saw him.
He was standing out on the balcony, his back to me, one hand resting on the railing as he looked out over the city. Dark hair graying faintly at the temples, broad shoulders beneath a perfectly tailored shirt, the kind of stillness that suggested a man used to being obeyed rather than questioned.
Something about the shape of him tugged at my memory, but I dismissed it, surely my mind was playing tricks, drawing comparisons where there weren't any.
He must have heard my heels against the marble, because he turned.
And the world stopped.
It was him. The same face from the magazine. The same sharp jaw. The man I had wished to meet my whole life. The man folded away in my bag at this very moment, pressed against my side like a secret I hadn't meant to bring with me.
Leonardo studied me for a moment, something unreadable passing behind his eyes, and then he offered a small, polite smile.
"You must be Amelia." His voice was low, measured, carrying the same quiet authority I remembered even from a photograph. "Victoria told me you'd be arriving today." He extended a hand toward me, unhurried, certain. "Welcome. I suppose that makes me your stepfather now."
My whole body went still.
The bag on my shoulder suddenly felt impossibly heavy. I couldn't believe my ears. My mouth opened, but no sound came out.
He's the man from the magazine. My crush.
He's the man Mum just married.
He's the man I was supposed to hate.
And instead, standing a few feet away from him, all I could think was that I never wanted to stop looking at his face.
I swallowed hard, forced my frozen lips into the ghost of a smile, and reached out to shake his hand.
The moment our palms touched, something shifted in the air between us, subtle, dangerous, unnamed.
Leonardo's grip lingered a beat longer than it should have. His eyes flickered, just slightly, down to my lips, then back up as if he, too, had felt something he couldn't name and didn't like that he'd felt it.
I still held his hand until the elevator chime sounded behind me.
Chapter 2 The face from the magazine
Leonardo's POV
I heard the soft click of heels against marble and turned from the balcony.
She was younger than I'd pictured and far more striking. Amelia stood just inside the entryway, one hand still gripping the strap of her bag, dark hair loose around her shoulders, eyes wide with something that looked like nerves dressed up as politeness. There was an innocence to her, an unguarded quality I hadn't expected to find in Victoria's daughter. Victoria had mentioned her only in passing. My daughter, Amelia, she'll be arriving today.
Now, watching her hesitate in my own entryway, I found myself curious in a way I hadn't anticipated.
I crossed the room toward her, the city still bright behind me through the glass. Three years. That was the length of this arrangement three years of playing husband to a woman I barely knew, all because Marcus Whitfield, my newest investor, had made it clear that he didn't trust a single man past forty with his capital. Men who don't settle down don't know how to commit to anything, he'd said. 'A wife tells me you understand responsibility. That you'll see things through.'
I hadn't liked the ultimatum. But I liked what Whitfield was offering even less to walk away from, the kind of investment that would let me expand past every border I'd been quietly testing for years. So I'd done the practical thing. I'd married well, married strategically, the way I did everything else. Victoria understood the terms. She wanted the money and the name; I wanted the deal closed and the appearance of a settled life. It cost me nothing I valued and bought me everything I needed.
I hadn't expected her daughter to be part of the arrangement I actually noticed.
"You must be Amelia," I said, offering her a small, polite smile as I closed the distance between us. "Victoria told me you'd be arriving today." I extended my hand. "Welcome. I suppose that makes me your stepfather now."
She went very still. For a moment I thought she might not take my hand at all, there was something almost startled in the way she looked at me, like she'd seen a ghost instead of a man. Then her mouth curved into the ghost of a smile politely, and she reached out to shake my hand.
The moment our palms met, I felt it a current, faint but unmistakable, passing between us. Her hand trembled slightly in mine, and I told myself it was nerves, the ordinary discomfort of meeting a stranger who now shared her mother's last name. But I didn't let go as quickly as I should have. There was something in her eyes when she glanced up at me uncertain, that made me want to hold on a bit longer, just to see what she'd do.
I don't know what unsettled me more: that she seemed to feel it too, or that some part of me didn't want to be the one to break the contact.
The elevator chimed behind her before either of us could say another word.
Amelia's POV
The doors slid open, and Victoria stepped out.
"Amelia."
Her voice cut through the moment. She'd appeared from God knows where, heels clicking against the marble, her smile fixed in place for Leonardo's benefit even as her eyes flicked toward me with a warning only I would recognize.
"You made it," Victoria said, looping her arm through Leonardo's with practiced ease. "Let me show you to your room, sweetheart. You must be tired from the drive."
I said nothing, only nodded, and followed my her down a long hallway lined with art that probably cost more than the apartment I'd grown up in. I could still feel the warmth of Leonardo's hand pressed into mine, even with the distance now between us.
The moment we were out of his earshot, Victoria's grip on my arm tightened.
"Behave yourself," she hissed under her breath, her voice low and cold. "This is a three-year contract marriage, Amelia. Three years. I intend to use every single day of it to secure enough money to finally live the way I deserve."
"But I didn't do anything," I said quietly. "I only just walked in. He was simply introducing himself, that's all."
Victoria opened a door at the end of the hall, gesturing inside with false warmth. "Settle in. Dinner is in an hour. Wear something appropriate."
Then she was gone, her heels fading down the hallway, leaving me alone in a room bigger than anything I'd ever had to myself.
I waited until I was certain she was gone before I pulled out my phone and called Maya.
"You will not believe this," I whispered the moment she picked up.
"What? What happened?"
"Leonardo is my new stepfather." I pressed a hand to my chest, still trying to steady my own heartbeat. "Maya, it's him. The man I've had a crush on for years. I've only ever seen him in magazines and news clips, but now he's standing in the living room. In person. Real, right in front of me."
There was a long pause on the other end. "Wait. Wait, seriously? That's him?"
"That's him."
"Amelia." Maya's voice sharpened with disbelief. "What are you going to do?"
I sat down slowly on the edge of the massive bed, staring at my own reflection in the mirror across the room. For a moment I didn't answer, turning the question over in my mind the way I turned over every plan I'd ever made for myself quietly, carefully, without anyone noticing until it was already done.
"I'm going to take him from her," I finally said.
"Amelia..."
"Quietly," I added, before she could argue. "She won't know. Not until it's already done. I have three years, Maya, well, less than that, if I'm smart about it. I just need to get close to him before she figures out what I'm doing. Before she throws me out like she always threatens to."
Maya exhaled slowly. "This is dangerous. You know that, right? If Victoria finds out..."
"I know what she's capable of," I said quietly. "Better than anyone."
Neither of us said anything for a moment, the weight of that truth settling between us.
"Just be careful," Maya finally said. "Please."
"I will."
I hung up, set the phone aside, and finally allowed myself to breathe. I sat there a while longer, staring at the ceiling, letting myself feel the full strangeness of everything that had happened, the house, the ride up into a life I'd never imagined, the sight of the one face I'd longed to see for years suddenly close enough to touch.
It didn't feel real yet, even though I knew it was. Some part of me kept waiting to wake up in my old room.
By the time I'd freshened up and changed, a soft knock came at my door, one of the staff letting me know that dinner was ready. I smoothed down my dress and made my way to the dining room, where the table had already been set with a quiet, expensive elegance I wasn't used to, crystal glasses catching the light, silverware arranged with more precision than I'd ever seen outside of magazines.
Victoria and Leonardo were seated at either end of the long table, already deep in easy conversation, something about a business associate, a dinner party next month. Victoria laughed at something Leonardo said, the sound polished and practiced, the same laugh she used on every man she'd ever needed something from.
I took my seat quietly, murmured a soft greeting, and let the conversation wash over me without really hearing it.
My eyes drifted, unbidden, to Leonardo, the way his hand rested against his glass, the low, even rhythm of his voice. I'd studied that face so many times in photographs that I'd memorized every angle of it. But watching him now, animated and speaking, laughing faintly at something Victoria said, felt like I'd been told the wrong story about him.
"Amelia." Victoria's voice pulled me back. "Leonardo asked how you're settling in."
"Fine," I said quickly, offering a small, smile in his direction. "Thank you for having me."
Leonardo studied me for a moment, something quiet and unreadable passing behind his eyes, then gave a small nod and returned his attention to Victoria, letting the conversation move on without me.
I exhaled softly, grateful for the reprieve, and let my gaze drift down to my plate.
Three years, I thought. I only need to be patient.
Chapter 3 A word I shouldn't know
Dinner moved slowly, the low hum of conversation between Victoria and Leonardo fading into background noise as my mind wandered somewhere far from the table.
The staff moved quietly around us, refilling glasses, clearing small plates. I sat with my fork resting untouched against my plate, nodding occasionally whenever Victoria's voice rose in my direction, though I couldn't have repeated a single word that had been said.
One moment I was staring at my plate, and the next I felt Leonardo's hands finding my waist, pulling me close, his voice low against my ear as he whispered something only I could hear.
I answered him softly, breathlessly, the word slipping out before I could stop it. Yes, Daddy.
My lips curved without my permission. My teeth caught my bottom lip. My fingers traced idle circles against my thigh beneath the table, lost entirely in the fantasy playing behind my eyes.
The rest of the room had gone quiet and distant, folded away somewhere I couldn't reach, while the version of Leonardo in my mind held me like I was something worth holding onto.
"Amelia."
Victoria's voice cracked across the table like a whip.
I flinched hard, blinking back into the room, my face flooding with heat as I registered where I was, the dining table, the crystal glasses, Leonardo's gaze flicking toward me with faint, unreadable curiosity. My heart slammed against my ribs.
I hadn't realized how far I'd drifted, hadn't realized what my face must have looked like while I was gone.
"Get up," Victoria said, her voice tight and controlled in a way that was somehow more frightening than shouting. "Now."
I rose on unsteady legs and followed my mother out of the dining room, down the hall, until Victoria rounded on me the moment we were out of sight.
"What," Victoria hissed, "was that?"
"What do you mean?" My voice came out smaller than I wanted it to.
"Don't play stupid with me." Victoria's eyes were narrow, furious, cutting straight through me. "I saw you. Smiling at him like that. Biting your lip. Rubbing your thighs together at my dinner table like some desperate little-" She stopped herself, jaw tightening, and took a breath before continuing, quieter now, more dangerous for it. "You were flirting with my husband. In front of me."
"I wasn't," I started, but the lie died in my throat. There was no version of this where I could explain the truth without making everything worse.
"I don't care what you were doing in that head of yours," Victoria snapped. "I care about what it looked like. Do you understand what's at stake here? I need this marriage intact for three years, and I will not have you jeopardizing it because you can't control yourself for one dinner."
I said nothing, staring at the floor, letting the words wash over me the way I'd trained myself to do for years. I had learned long ago that silence was safer than defense, that anything I said would only be twisted and handed back to me later.
Victoria stepped closer, lowering her voice to something colder, sharper. "I won't warn you again. Next time, I won't just talk to you about it." She let the threat hang there, unfinished, familiar enough that I didn't need her to finish it. "Go to your room. I'll make your excuses to Leonardo."
I turned without another word and walked back down the hall, my legs carrying me faster than I meant them to, until I reached my room and shut the door behind me.
I fell onto the bed and exhaled deeply, staring up at the ceiling, my heart still racing from more than just fear.
How did that happen?
I pressed my palms against my eyes, replaying the moment, the way I'd drifted so completely into the fantasy that I'd forgotten where I was, forgotten who was watching.
It frightened me a little, how easily I'd lost myself. I'd meant to be careful, patient and Quiet, the way I'd promised Maya I would be. And instead I'd nearly given myself away in the first few hours, in front of the one person who could ruin everything with a single phone call.
I just love him so much, I thought, and the admission startled me even as I thought it. Not liked. Not wanted. Loved already, impossibly, after only a handshake and a few careful hours in the same house. It made no sense, and yet it felt more real than anything else I'd felt in years.
I sat up slowly and reached for the small notebook I kept tucked in my bag, the same bag that still carried the folded canvas beneath my clothes. I opened it to a blank page and began to write, my handwriting small and deliberate.
Day One.
I stared at the words for a moment, then kept writing not a diary exactly, but something close to it. A record. A countdown.
If I was going to survive under Victoria's rule while trying to win a man who didn't yet know he was being pursued, I needed to be smarter than I'd been tonight.
No more daydreaming at dinner tables. No more careless smiles that Victoria could catch and twist into a weapon.
From now on, everything had to be deliberate. Every glance, every soft word, every quiet moment near Leonardo would need to be planned, timed, controlled.
I wrote a few more lines beneath the date, small reminders to myself, rules I intended to follow no matter how hard it had already proven to be.
I closed the notebook and set it on the nightstand, then lay back against the pillows, letting my eyes drift shut.
Somewhere down the hall, I could hear the low murmur of Victoria's voice, smoothing things over with Leonardo, spinning some easy explanation for her daughter's sudden disappearance from the table.
I wondered, briefly, what excuse my mother had chosen. And then I wondered something else entirely, something that made my chest tighten with a mixture of guilt and quiet thrill.
I wondered if Leonardo had noticed. Really noticed. Not just the interruption, not just Victoria's tight smile as she'd led me away, but the moment before that. The bitten lip. The far-off look in my eyes that hadn't belonged to an innocent daydream.
And for reasons I didn't fully understand, that thought didn't frighten me at all.
