CHAPTER 3: BE COOL

MARILYN’S POV

The next morning, I yawned and sat up in bed, stretching my arms with a tired groan.

A sigh escaped my lips as I glanced toward the window, hair ruffled and falling around my face in every direction.

I rubbed my eyes sleepily, then rose from the bed and padded over to the window, swinging it wide open to let the crisp morning air rush in.

“Phew. It’s a new day,”

I muttered, resting my arms against the frame for a moment.

But almost instantly, like a cockroach refusing to stay crushed, the memory of last night’s encounter with Fredrick crawled into my mind.

I scoffed.

“Stupid jerk,”

I muttered again, then turned and headed for the bathroom to clean up.

Within minutes, I was done and dressed—keeping it light and casual as always. I walked out of my room and headed downstairs toward the kitchen, ready to start the house chores like usual.

I began washing the dishes, humming a quiet, cheerful tune under my breath so I wouldn’t wake anyone.

My hands worked rhythmically, water running steadily, soap bubbles dancing on my fingers.

I adjusted my hair absently, focused entirely on my task... unaware of the towering presence standing silently at the kitchen doorway.

FREDRICK’S POV

I licked my lips as I watched the way her plump, round ass curved beneath the thin satin gown she wore.

God... she’s gifted.

I pushed my fingers back through my hair and exhaled slowly, trying to calm the heat pooling low in my body.

Why the hell does this girl affect me like this?

Why does she make me crave her so badly?

All I wanted right now was to slap that tight little ass and make her yelp.

Damn it.

My cock was already straining again—aching from the constant pressure.

I’d been hard all night, restless, tossing and turning with images of her in my head.

Even sex with my new wife hadn’t taken the edge off.

Joan thought I was insatiable.

She had no idea what was driving me mad.

Then she turned.

She caught sight of me and paused, her expression flickering with something unreadable.

“Good morning,”

she said plainly and brushed past me without another glance, exiting the kitchen like I didn’t even exist.

I stared after her and sighed.

Was she really that pissed at me?

I walked into the kitchen and stood by the sink.

Moments later, she returned, catching sight of me in her space.

She rolled her eyes.

“Can you excuse me, please? I’m busy here.”

Her tone was clipped, sharp. She didn’t look at me, didn’t meet my eyes.

But I could tell—deep down, she was flustered.

I could sense it, smell it.

I chuckled and leaned casually against the counter, folding my arms across my chest.

“And what if I don’t?”

I asked, my eyes trailing up to meet hers.

She turned and glared at me, those jade green eyes sparkling under the sunlight filtering in through the window.

HOLYFUCK.

Her eyes alone could make me come undone.

I swallowed hard.

“I don’t want to repeat myself. Get the hell away from the sink,”

she said, her voice like daggers—and yet somehow still making me harder.

I chuckled again.

Her fire, her rage—it stirred me like nothing else.

“Marilyn?”

A voice cut through the tension.

We both turned to see her mom standing at the doorway, looking sleepy and disoriented.

“Are you talking to your dad like that?”

Joan asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

I watched Marilyn stiffen slightly, her throat tightening as she swallowed.

Perfect.

“I’m so glad you’re here, honey,”

I said, slipping easily into the role.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her. I’ve been trying to be friendly, trying to get to know her, but she’s just been so… difficult.”

I added a helpless shrug, like the victim of a teenage temper tantrum.

Marilyn turned to me, her face filled with disbelief.

MARILYN’S POV

IS THIS GUY KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?

FREDRICK’S POV

I smiled as I watched her eyes widen in shock.

“Is that true, Marilyn?”

Joan asked, turning toward her with concern.

Marilyn looked at her, still stunned.

“That is definitely not true, Mom! He’s the one who’s been acting off with me—he’s been the one—”

“All I did was correct her,”

I interrupted smoothly,

“for a wrong she did. But she blew it out of proportion. Took it as some kind of personal attack.”

“What?!”

She turned to me, furious.

“But—”

“Enough, Marilyn. Meet me in my private room. Now,”

Joan said, voice low but firm.

She didn’t wait for an answer before turning and leaving.

Marilyn stood frozen for a second, then shot me the deadliest glare I’d ever seen.

I smiled right back.

“Go on,”

I said softly.

“You need that talk. Trust me.”

Her mouth twitched like she wanted to scream—but instead, she flipped me the bird and stormed off.

I blinked.

Did she just…?

That middle finger was the hottest thing I’d seen in days.

Shit.

I was harder than ever.

I leaned forward to watch her walk away, hypnotized by the sway of her hips.

Her ass jiggled in all the right ways with each angry step.

That satin gown clung like sin.

OH CRAP.

MARILYN’S POV

I walked slowly to Mom’s private room, pausing outside the door for a moment.

Inside, she was pacing, her thumb pressed to her lips, clearly deep in thought.

I sighed and stepped in.

She turned sharply, her eyes blazing.

“What was that just now?”

she snapped, voice already thick with frustration.

I looked down.

“It’s not what you—”

“Then what is it? What’s going on, Marilyn? I thought you were okay with the idea of me marrying again, of having another father figure in your life.”

I shook my head quickly. I didn’t want her to believe I had a problem with her happiness.

“I am, Mom. I really am. I want this to work. But not when the ‘dad’ in question is acting like a complete jackass.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean by that? Fredrick has always been great with kids. You’re the first one I’ve seen push back like this.”

I scoffed quietly.

“Point of correction, Mom—I’m not a child. I’m eighteen. I have a right to my opinions and how I’m treated.”

“Then explain to me how exactly he’s being a jackass.”

I hesitated.

God, how could I even begin to explain that this man—this man she trusted—accused me of staring at him, of seducing him?

She’d never believe me.

She’d take his word over mine in a heartbeat.

I took a deep breath.

“You know what? You’re right. I’m wrong. I’ve been difficult. And I promise it won’t happen again.”

She sighed, her expression softening just a little.

“But,”

I added quickly,

“on one condition—he stays out of my way. Completely. No more crossing paths. I’ll give him peace if he gives me space.”

Without waiting for her reply, I turned and walked out of the room.

Joan watched her daughter leave, eyebrows pulling together with unease.

Something about all this didn’t sit right with her.

Something wasn’t adding up between those two.

But what could it be?