Two fucking days.

That's how long it's been and I feel like I've been in some sort of alternate fucking universe. Ever since what happened with Drake and Natalie went down, it's made me question so many of the things that I used to hold close to me.

I'm sitting in my office right now, staring out the window.

I haven't been so quiet and pensive in a long, long time.

I think the last time that I was like this was when ... when Mom died?

Jesus fucking Christ.

I need to get a fucking grip on this whole entire situation. I feel like I'm losing control.

One moment I'm arguing with Drake. The next moment I'm fucking the same girl as him?

One moment Natalie is with Drake. Then she's with me. Then she's with the both of us?

And what the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I turned on thinking of sharing Natalie with my stepdad? What kind of fucked up family dynamic is this?

This takes modern family to a whole new fucking level. Literally.

But that's not the worst of it.

Not by a long shot.

See, almost every sizzling sinful moment of what happened between the three of us gets me hard. But what's starting to get my cock twitching uncontrollably is far, far worse.

But it's so fucking hot it makes me not care where the fuck I am. To just whip out my dick and start jerking it till I cum is all I want to do when I think about it.

What is it?

The thought of not just having Natalie, but having Drake as well.

That's right.

I want to fuck my stepsister. And my stepdad. At the same fucking time.

It's sick.

It's fucking wrong.

It's forbidden on so many levels.

This is the kind of shit the Romans used to do. That had priests and scholars fear that the sun was going to fall out of the sky.

It's like the demon of lust has nested in my soul. Corrupted me with wicked fucking thoughts.

Don't roll your eyes at me, okay? That's entirely what it feels like.

"I have Drake Carlton here to see you, Sloane," Cheryl's voice comes out across the intercom.

What the fuck? Speak of the fucking devil.

"Excuse me?" I answer back, my voice barely a croak.

I can hear her pick up the phone at her desk as well.

"Drake is waiting at reception. I just got the call," she says to me over the phone. "What should I do?"

I pause for a long moment.

Two weeks ago, I would've told Cheryl to send him the fuck back. I would have nothing to fucking say to that man.

But that was then.

Things are a lot different now.

"Send him in," I say into the intercom and then hang up.

What could Drake want? It must be something important. Important enough for him to come up to Midtown all the way from Wall Street.

The door to my office opens and Drake Carlton walks in.

He looks at me, as if he's walking into the lair of an enemy.

But that look fades just as quickly as I see it. And come on, I think I need to cut him some slack on that one. What happened between us two days ago has probably changed things for him too.

"I've never seen your new office," Drake says, by way of greeting. "The view is definitely nicer than what I have downtown," he finishes.

Drake walks to the window and looks out.

I know he didn't come here to look at the view, but I'm also not a fucking caveman, okay? I have some tact.

No, instead of saying anything as fucking trite as 'Well, you came all this way for the view' or some bullshit like that, I stay silent.

Instead, as a sign of giving him a chance, I get up from my chair and walk around my desk.

There. We're on a bit more even footing now.

I head next to Drake and stand next to him at the window.

We're just looking down on the streets of Midtown, right? So why the fuck is my cock twitching?

Do I want to fuck Drake right here?

I mean don't get me wrong. I'm not gay. I think I proved that to you pretty conclusively the other day with Natalie.

But just because I'm not gay doesn't mean that I can't appreciate man meat.

And if I have to be honest, I'll be the first to admit to you that Drake Carlton is a remarkable specimen of man. He has a great fucking body. He's got the confidence of--

"I want to talk to you about two days ago," Drake says, turning to me and not wasting any more words. "You know I didn't come all the way up here to look down at the view with you. But I appreciate that you didn't rush me, Sloane," Drake says.

I decide to just stare at him and let him continue.

"We've had our differences, you and I," Drake says. "But what happened the other day has taken this to a whole different level."

Well, that's the understatement of the fucking century.

I sigh, and gesture toward the sofa next to the window. Drake nods and sits down. I sit on the leather chair across from the sofa.

"We've been at each other's throats for a long time, Drake," I say to him, and he nods. "I think I'm a fucking venture capitalist because I hated you."

"There's a lot of anger to go around, Sloane," Drake says to me. "I made my share of mistakes."

And that's when it fucking hits me.

You know how sometimes you're just sitting there or talking to someone and they say or do something and it's a stupid insignificant thing, but it sort of puts everything into fucking perspective?

Scientists and behavioral psychologists call it an epiphany.

I call it an 'oh shit' moment.

And that's just what Drake has done to me right now.

See, he made mistakes. He just admitted he made mistakes.

"Drake," I say slowly. He looks at me. "You made a lot of mistakes."

Drake nods his head. He doesn't grimace, but he's quiet.

"I want you to know, I loved Meredith," he says to me. "I loved your mother with all my fucking heart."

I don't say anything.

"After she died, I don't know what happened, but I should've never married Linda," he says to me. "I know you didn't approve, but I didn't care."

It's not that I didn't approve.

Fuck.

Could it be that I didn't want to share?

Did I maybe want Drake to myself?

"I can't fault you now for marrying Linda, man," I say to him. "Otherwise, I would've never met Natalie."

That makes us both pause.

Natalie Vanderhill.

The girl with the beautiful face. The gorgeous fucking body. That tight heart-shaped ass. Those slender legs. That flat stomach. Those luscious tits.

And the dirtiest fucking mind I've ever seen in a woman.

"Natalie is...special," Drake says, choosing his words. I understand where my stepdad is coming from. It's a loaded fucking subject. "Hell, she's the reason we're in this room today talking to each other as civilized people."

"When you married Linda, there was a lot of hurt," I tell Drake, going back to my epiphany. I think I almost have it to put into words.

"But that hurt wasn't because I thought you were forgetting about Mom," I tell him. He's nodding, and looking at me now. "That hurt was because I thought you were forgetting about me."

"I wasn't close to even trying to be a good dad, Sloane," Drake says shaking his head.

"That's not it," I say to him and Drake looks at me.

What is that in his eyes?

He's my stepdad. All it can be is concern.

"I think, yeah, I needed a father," I tell Drake slowly. "But I think I was jealous of Linda because she was going to be your lover."

Drake is quiet.

And that's the fucking rub, isn't it.

I was jealous of my stepmom, not because I didn't want a new family coming in.

Because on some deeper level, I was attracted to my stepdad.

It's been an attraction that I haven't been able to reconcile all this fucking time.

So what did I do instead?

I lashed out. I got angry. I built walls. I never settled on one woman.

So much to tell Drake about. And looking at him, I see he hasn't turned away in shock or disgust anymore. He's smiling; it's an open fucking invitation.

We're going to finally bury the fucking hatchet. We're going to--

The phone interrupts my thinking.

"Mr. Hardman," Cheryl says with professionalism in her voice. "The investors are here to go over the final details on the investment of Dirty Lil' Angels. They're in the South Conference Room."

Fuck. This is a real meeting.

Drake understands though that we've had a fucking breakthrough. He gets up.

"Let's grab some dinner," he says. "The three of us. We have a lot of talk about."

I get up. We shake hands. A bit awkwardly. And then he's out the door.

And I'm in a whole new world. Every last thing I knew has fucking changed.

I honestly need a breather, to be honest.

A meeting with some bankers is just what I need to get my focus back.

Why don't you go see what Natalie is up to?