The Family Firm by Sinclair S.L

Author:Sinclair, S.L.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-09-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Sasha

Waking up in a strange bed is never a good experience. It takes me a few minutes after opening my eyes to remember last night. I expect to feel ashamed or something, but all I feel is the same joy from last night, the same peace.

“You’re up.”

I jump and glance at Daddy in the bedroom doorway.

“I called my dad, we’re to meet him at the office today,” he continues with a smile. “He has a surprise for you, little one. I had my assistant bring you clothes, they’re in the bathroom. Shower and come meet us downstairs.” He blows me a kiss and closes the door.

I lay there in pure bliss for another few seconds before getting out of bed to do as he said. I wince in pain; Uncle Tony did a number on my ass. But the hot shower does wonders for every ache I have.

They were so sweet; they had clothes brought for me, hair products, body wash, and a fluffy robe. The clothes are professional/casual: a white silk blouse, grey plaid pleated skirt that comes to just above my knees, and a matching blazer. There are even stiletto pumps in my size.

However, there aren’t any panties.

Interesting.

I head downstairs to the duelling smells of smoke and bacon. Uncle Tony is cooking, and Daddy is watching the weather in the large, open plan living room/kitchen combo, sipping coffee.

“Good morning,” I call, now a little tentative the morning after.

I didn’t need to be. Both men drop what they are doing to kiss me in greeting, and all I want is to take them both back upstairs to fuck and cuddle all day.

“You look beautiful,” Uncle Tony comments. “Come have breakfast. We have to meet Dad at eleven-thirty.”

“Thank you. For breakfast and the clothes and soap and … everything,” I say, taking his large hand in mine.

Daddy leans over and kisses the top of my head. “Non c'è problema. Anything for you.”

While I eat some bacon and fruit with a good, strong espresso, Daddy turns back to the news while checking his phone. Uncle Tony loads the dishwasher. It’s so nice and normal and domestic. It feels like it’s always been this way, and is always supposed to be this way.

Until something breaks my little bubble of happiness.

“Fuck. Tony!” Dad yells. “Look at this!”

Nosy as I am, I follow too, wondering what’s wrong.

The news has a breaking news update. The newscaster looks dour as he stands outside an alley downtown.

“We regret to inform you that the breaking news we reported at 5am has been confirmed: a new victim of the Northside Rapist has been discovered. Her name, we are just learning now, is Erika Black, a local model.”

A picture of Balloon Girl from yesterday fills a small part of the screen, and I completely tune out what the reporter is saying.

“Fuck fuck fuck my life,” Uncle Tony says. “I gave her my card with my address when I met her. She probably still fucking had it on her.”

“But you couldn’t have killed her,” I point out.

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