M y fingers work furiously on my sketch pad. I have no other outlet but my art. Fortunately, I produce my best works when mad, sad or heartbroken.

I’m so angry at myself. At my cowardice.

I thought I could do it. That I could finally tell him. But I lost my courage.

I wasn’t prepared to face the possible consequences of my actions.

I was afraid to lose him. I can’t lose him. I would die.

My only recourse is to leave this house I’ve come to call home for six years. It hurts me to even think about it, but I need to do it.

I had asked him nicely many times, but he wouldn’t even listen to me. He completely failed to see my efforts. I wasn’t just being a spoiled brat asking to have my own place and still depend on him for my subsistence. I was working hard for this independence. I earned it. I deserve it. I want it so bad.

All I want is to show him that I can stand on my own now, that I’m worthy of his respect as his equal, not in stature or success but as a colleague. I want him to see me as a grown woman. A woman he can depend on and be proud of to carry his name.

I want him to see me NOT as his daughter.

I want him to see me as a woman he can love passionately.

If I don’t do anything about it, it will never happen, and I can’t live this life without even trying.

It seems that as far as Dave is concerned, waiting is what I do best. When I thought he was my biological father as a young girl, I’ve waited for him to claim me as his daughter. It turned out he wasn’t my real father, after all. Nan told me that my biological father was some scumbag who used to abuse my mother. I was a product of a teenage indiscretion that my mother hid from society at the behest of my grandparents. I didn’t know who my father was and I didn’t want to know anymore after Dave took me in.

I have forgiven my mother for her cruel deception. She’d been dead for six years now. She was my real mother but it had always been Nan who took care of me from the start. At first I thought that Nan was my real mother, but Caroline who’s been pretending to be my aunt all those years suddenly confessed to me that she was my real mother when I was about ten years old. Then a few years later, she told me who my real father was. The man she married! And he too didn’t want to acknowledge me in public. Not yet anyway. That was the lie my mother made me lap up until her untimely demise. My childhood was such a mess it was a wonder I turned out fine. I can only thank one person for that.

Dave.

He took me in without question, even if he knew I wasn’t his flesh and blood. And he’s been taking care of me ever since.

He’s the most important man in my life. He and Nan are the only people that matter the most to me in this world. But I’m sure Nan would understand if I love Dave more now because my love for him has evolved over the years.

I’m really thankful I’ve known from the get go that Dave wasn’t my biological father. I would have gone mental with my feelings for him if he were my real father. As it is, I feel a bit guilty that I’m so in love with him when he thinks of me in a daughterly manner. But I’ve come to terms with that a couple of years ago shortly after I’ve acknowledged to myself that I was in love with my guardian.

There is nothing wrong with my feelings for him.

I can love him as a woman loves a man.

We’re not related in any way nor are we legally bound.

My phone rings, disrupting my chaotic thoughts.

I drop the pencil and reach for my phone.

I look at the screen. It’s Holly Lobb, my best friend. I only have two BFFs. The other one is Isobel Stuart. I reluctantly take the call. “Hey.”

“Girl, are you coming to my dad’s party tonight? Bel won’t make it. She’s going with her fiance to that benefit at the Beverly-Wilshire.”

“Uhm, I’m supposed to go there with Dave, too.”

“Do you really prefer to go to that boring gala than attend my dad’s shindig? You know my dad, he invites the most fab celebs, and you know my mom, she invites the fashion fiends. You can’t miss this party, girl!”

Holly’s father is a big time record producer and her mother is a famous shoe designer, but I’m not in the mood to party. I don’t even want to attend that gala with Dave. He can go solo this time. Pretending to enjoy the vapid company of most of his acquaintances is an undertaking too taxing for me tonight.

“I need to finish the designs for my collection. You know I only have this summer to wrap up everything before the semester starts again.”

“It might do you good to meet these celebs who’ll soon patronize your designs,” she throws in.

In truth, I find the star-studded Lobb parties a bit overwhelming. Rubbing elbows with A-listers from the music, movie and fashion industry is not really my thing. Even though I want to be a successful designer one day and I’m working hard on it, I feel awkward promoting my own works. But it’s a necessary evil, I suppose. “Can’t you just do the PR for me? You’re the best at it.”

“Nah-ah. You can’t say no. I’m celebrating this day.”

“What for? It’s not your birthday.”

“On the contrary this is a very special day. This is the day when I, with all my naivete, surrendered my virginity to that mega-asshole-you-know-who.”

I roll my eyes. “Ha-ha. A mega famous asshole now though, thanks to your dad. Is he gonna be there at the party? You’re scared of him, aren’t you?”

“Scared? Me? Come on. I’m so over him and no, he’s not coming to the party, thank God! Seriously, come on, girl, I’d be bored to my pierced nipples without you.”

“You, bored? I’m sure you’d be surrounded by so many talented and gorgeous people who’d kill to be your BFF so they can get to your Dad.”

“So you’re gonna leave me all alone to the mercy of these opportunistic wannabes?” she whines.

“Dramarama.”

“Come on, I’ll come pick you up at seven, okay? Bye!“

“Holly, wait!”

But the line’s dead.

I sigh and look around my studio. This used to be Dave’s gym but he converted it into my studio two years ago as a gift for my birthday. It’s located at the back of the villa so I have total privacy when working. It’s spacious and has a loft where I can take a nap in the afternoons. I usually host little get-togethers with my very few friends here. The interior is gothic-themed with its black, gray and white color scheme accented with powder blue prints.

Very me.

I design edgy apparel for the teen and young adult markets and I’m quite rocking my online store, especially when I entered Amazon early this year.

Barely two years in the business, I already got mentions in Vogue UK and Paris. It’s funny how the Europeans love my designs more than the Americans, but maybe because my inspirations mainly come from European art and culture. But I’m quickly gaining popularity here in the country as well, thanks to my friends who are all popular social media fashion influencers. They endorse my clothes by actually wearing them at notable events they attend.

Still, I need to level up. I want to be picked up by a fashion house so they can manufacture my clothes en masse . Dave offered to finance my label, but I refused, which quite pissed him off. I started small using part of my monthly allowance to finance the manufacturing costs. I hired two seamstresses and we did it in my studio. My first collection sold out which enabled me to produce more items in my next collection. Now I sub-contract my designs for faster output.

I wanted to prove to Dave that I could do it on my own, even without his help, and I did. I know he grudgingly respects me for that though he insisted to provide me with lawyers who’d assist me in protecting my legal rights. I conceded with this, but I’m paying these lawyers from my income.

But really, over-protectiveness aside, Dave has been nothing but supportive of my dreams even though I know he prefers if I’d just follow in his footsteps and study business instead.

But I don’t want his fatherly support anymore. I want him to quit treating me as his responsibility. I’m not that little damsel he’d saved from a life of despair and misery anymore. I’m my own woman now.

I sigh heavily. I decide to attend the Lobb party, after all. My creative momentum has been broken anyway.

T hirty minutes later , I exit my bedroom. Dave is just leaving his room, too.

He’s so gorgeous in his tux it hurts to look at him.

Tall. Solid. Commanding. All man.

I have him, and yet I don’t.

He smiles. “Hey, doll face.”

My insides flutter. Just a smile and I’m melting like a burning candle and it’s a sad, sad one-sided affair. God, I hate it. I hate him!

I ignore him and walk ahead.

“Anya.”

I don’t stop. I walk faster, my stilettos eating up the carpeted hallway.

He catches up with me easily. His strides are way longer than mine.

“Going with me?”

“No,” I reply without looking at him.

“But you’re going somewhere.”

I ignore his remark.

We reach the elevator. He lets me enter first then gets in. His scent surrounds me. Sandalwood and marine. So masculine.

I hate that I can’t lean over and smell him like I want to. Like I used to.

I used to touch him a lot, hug him without hesitation. But I didn’t use to burn at the slightest contact of our skin. Now, just looking at him makes me all kinds of hot and bothered.

“I need you with me at the gala.”

The doors open on the villa’s ground floor.

I exit the car. He catches my arm.

“Anya.”

Bolts of electricity seem to spark where he’s touching me. I used to revel in his warm, gentle touch. Dave’s smallest touch used to give me comfort and security. His gentle caress calmed me.

But not anymore. I don’t like him touching me now. My body comes alive every time, and I feel the flood of sensations rushing in every part of me, almost overwhelming me. It feels so good, so frighteningly good, but I hate it that I’m the only one who feels this way.

“Come with me. Please?”

I pull my arm from his grasp. “I can’t. I’ve committed to attend Holly’s party tonight.”

He frowns. “Going clubbing again?”

I don’t correct him. I want to goad him, get a rise at him, whatever. I want him to lose his cool for once. I want him to share even just an iota of my misery. It’s not fair that he’s never changed all these years whereas I have changed so much. “Better that than listen to boring chitchat all night.”

He sighs. “Anya—“

I don’t let him finish. I walk away. My emotions are so fragile around him and it’s just getting worse every day. I’m at a flash point of something I may not be able to control, like I’m teetering on the edge of…I don’t know. All I know is that he easily triggers these volatile feelings inside me.

I don’t want to have a meltdown in front of him. That’s the last thing I want.

I want him to see me as a mature woman, not a child having a tantrum in order to get what she wants.

I admire the gleaming luxury sedan parked on the driveway. No wonder Holly came to pick me up. She wanted to show off her new wheels. Holly was never the little yellow sports car type. She goes for the off-road beasts. I’m surprised she got an elegant Bentley this time.

Holly’s red head pops out of the driver’s side. “Like it?”

I smile. “Who doesn’t?”

“Let’s go, girl!”

I hurry to the front passenger side.

A few meters away, Vlad is standing beside my usual ride, a black late-model bulletproof Mercedes E-Class. Yeah, bulletproof. That’s courtesy of my paranoid guardian.

Vlad has practically been my shadow since I can remember as Dave refused to let me go out of the house on my own. At first I didn’t mind, but I started to resent it when I was in my senior year in high school and wanted more freedom. But Dave made me understand early on that he was not an ordinary man, and that he may have made a few enemies in his past business deals. He just wanted to make sure I was always safe. When he put it that way, I behaved like a good girl. But now, his paranoia is really getting to my nerves. I envy Holly’s freedom. She can go wherever she wants.

“I’ll ride with her, Vlad,” I tell my bodyguard.

Vlad doesn’t approve, but he just nods politely. He’s a man of few words, but lethal, just like Callum, Dave’s personal bodyguard. They’re as paranoid as their employer and are both fiercely loyal to him. Vlad would be tailing us, as usual.

Dave appears at the front door.

“Hey, Mr. Knight,” Holly waves at him cheerfully.

Dave doesn’t like Holly much. I knew this from some time ago, but I don’t like most of his rich friends either, so we’re even. He’s pretty much curtailed my freedom in most areas of my life, but he can’t choose my friends for me. I’d fought him tooth and nail on this and I won.

Dave has been tolerating Holly all these years. He does like Isobel, though. I know why. Holly is high-spirited and adventurous. Bel is the quintessential well-bred socialite from head to toe. Me? I don’t know what I am anymore. All I know is I’m in love with my guardian and I’m so damn miserable because of it.

“Going somewhere, ladies?” Dave drawls.

“We’ll be at our house, Mr. Knight. My parents are throwing a fab party. You’re welcome to join us.”

“I’d love to, but I’ve committed to attend an important benefit.”

“Oh, okay then. Have fun at the benefit, Mr. Knight.”

“You, too. Safe driving, Holly.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Knight. This,” Holly taps the hood of her car,” is a very intelligent car.”

Dave nods. “For sure.” He looks unconvinced and glances at Vlad. They seem to communicate with only their eyes.

Dave looks at me again, his eyes serious. “Be home before midnight.”

I roll my eyes and enter Holly’s car.

Holly is smirking with her vamp-crimson lips. “Seat belt, Cinderella.”

“Shut up.”