Chapter 123: Defending My Sweet Stepdaughter

Knox

The question hits me like a punch. The reporter's voice is bright and professional. Her words feel like a kick in the gut. "We know she's your stepdaughter. Is it true there's more to your relationship than just that?"

My blood runs cold then hot. I feel the camera on me, the red light recording every move I make.

Across the room, Monica's smile hasn't changed. She sips her wine watching me like a cat watching a mouse. I know she started this rumor. I want to go there and wipe that smile off her face but I don't. Not here, not with all these people watching.

I put on a face like I do when things are bad at work. Inside I'm furious. I think about Emma, her face on the balcony, her lips after I kissed her. If people find out about us she'll be the one who gets hurt. Not me, or her mom.

I clear my throat, wait a bit, then answer. "Emma is my assistant," I say, my voice calm. "She's also my stepdaughter. Our relationship is professional and familial. That's all."

The reporter tilts her head, her smile polite but her eyes sharp. "There have been rumors going on. People talk, Mr. Knox. We just want to know what's true."

Rumor? I want to ask the reporter the source of this supposed rumor but then, I know better. I don't want to be on the front page of a gossip tabloid.

That really gets to me. Monica is still watching me, glass paused at her lips. I want to tell them who started this because I know the truth. Instead I lean in, my voice calm and serious.

"Rumors are easy to start and hard to stop. Especially when someone has a grudge. My focus is working on this launch and on doing my job. Emma works really hard. I treat her like everyone else, with respect. If someone has proof of anything they should say so. Otherwise let's just talk about work."

The camera guy moves, the woman nods, her smile polite. "Fair Mr. Knox. Thanks for your time."

They left. And I'm boiling in rage. So Monica wants to play dirty? I'll show her how dirty and low I can go to take out my opponent.

I need to put an end to this madness before she takes it a notch higher. Today, reporters threw incriminating questions at me. What will it be next?

My eyes drift back to Monica. She lowers her glass, and gives me a nod like we're playing a game and she thinks she's winning. I'm so angry, I turn away before I do something stupid.

The rest of the day is a blur. I shake hands, answer questions, smile and laugh. It all feels fake. All I can think about is Emma waiting for me in that dress I bought her. I told her to wear it. I hope she does not wear a bra or panties.

I want to fuck her in that dress and watch her as we both climax to orgasm.

I picked it because it would look amazing on her and it would show off her body. And also remind her that I chose it because I own her dripping pussy and her body.

When the launch starts to end, I slip out and take the elevator down to the garage.

I get into my car, driving off to Mr. Carter's place.

My phone is quiet, no messages from Emma, no calls from Gina. That's good. It means nothing has happened yet.

Carter's house is big with gates and a long driveway. I drive inside. It's like a different world as I step out.

I could hear soft music playing, and some of our staff were already here. Good, everyone loves to party hard but not Emma and I tonight. We will leave when no one is watching. I look around, then I see her.

Emma is standing by the fireplace talking to two women. The deep crimson dress looks amazing on her, clinging to her body and showing off her curves.

She looks calm, professional. I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way she's twisting her glass in her hand.

Our eyes meet, like a spark, heat flares up. I feel it everywhere. She excuses herself and walks towards the hallway.

I follow her. We go into a room, and I quickly lock the door, kissing her hard the moment I hold her in my arms. She makes a sound, melts into me, her hands on my jacket, her body pressed close.

"Reporters asked about us," I say, my mouth on hers. "They asked if we're more than stepdaughter and stepfather."

Her eyes go wide in fear. "What did you say?" she asks.

"I said no it's not true. Monica was watching, and  smiling. She started this rumor, I know it."

Emma's hands tighten on my lapels. "What do we do?"

I brush my thumb over her lip, still swollen from earlier. "We will keep going but we have to be careful. No more risks like the balcony. I'm not going to let Monica win and I'm not going to let you go."

She nods. "The party won't end on time," she says. "Can you stay here tonight?"

I shake my head. "I can't. I really want to spend time with you tonight,” I say in a husky voice. I kiss her soft on her lips, then I pull back gently. “We should spend the night together, I've booked a hotel reservation.”

She gulps, staring into my eyes. “My mom will get suspicious if she notices our absence.”

My hands slide down her back, pressing her close and for a second nothing else matters.

She's right. Gina is getting really close to us. “That's alright.”

Before she could respond, I slam my lips on her in a wild kiss. Heat spreads across my veins.

Then I pull up her dress, my hand sliding down, perfect, just as I imagined. She has no panties on. Without hesitation and the urge to do really bad things to her, I slid my thick finger into her pussy. A moan slips out of her lips.

She's already wet and dripping for me.

Then we hear voices, laughter, and footsteps. We break apart fast, breathing hard. I smooth her hair and she fixes her dress. I unlock the door. And step out but the hall is already empty.

I want to drag her back into the room and fuck that pussy but we have to be careful.

I turn to her, her face flushed and lips swollen.

"Go back to the party, mingle and smile. I'll leave in twenty minutes. I will be at home waiting for you.”

She nods, her eyes dark with everything we can't say. I watch her walk away, her hips swaying in that dress and my phone buzzes in my pocket.

I pull my phone out, tapping the screen. There's a message from an unknown number.

My throat goes dry the moment I see the message. And an icy feeling of dread surges through me.

The message, it's a photo. Emma and I on the balcony, my hand on her waist, our mouths almost touching.