Please note: This is my first attempt at erotic fiction. I thought I'd give it a try, and I hope you enjoy it! But--apologies if I missed the mark. Part 2 still to come if anyone's interested.
"Please, just give her a chance."
Natasha sighed into the phone. This wasn't the first time her father had made this plea. Frankly, after the first dozen "potential stepmoms" that had come in and out of their lives, she had lost count.
"What are you gonna say next? 'I think she might really be the one, Tasha'?" she joked as she poured a cupful of black coffee into her thermos, a crucial part of her morning routine before heading to the office.
"Well, now that you mention it..." he answered slyly, his smirk evident even over the phone.
Her father was nothing if not predictable. Unfortunately, for a multi-million dollar, globe-trotting, award-winning actor, Cliff Emmerich was pretty damn naive too.
Natasha sealed up the thermos, grabbed her keys and briefcase off the wall rack, and walked out into the sunny, Southern California morning. "She's literally half your age, Dad. I don't trust her."
"So? What about George Clooney and Amal? They seem happy."
"That's, like, a 15-year gap. You're sixty and she's thirty.
I'm
almost thirty."
"Don't make it sound weird, Tasha. Come on, just meet her at least. You know I trust your opinion, and I need to know what you think of her. I said the two of you could have lunch at Maestro's this afternoon. I'll have Sam make the reservation for my table in the back."
"I'd rather have lunch with you," she admitted, sliding into the driver's seat of her BMW coupe.
"I wish I could, but I'm on set all day. We'll meet up before I have to head to London for the re-shoots though, I promise...And I promise you'd be doing me a
big
favor if you met her for lunch today."
Natasha sighed again.
"Please, sweetheart," Cliff persisted. "Can you help me out?"
That was another one of Cliff's favorite phrases. It wasn't like Natasha didn't help him often. In fact, she practically took care of
him
, rather than the other way around. Not that she minded much. After all, he was her father, and she loved him unconditionally.
Although only 28 (and a raven-haired, olive-skinned beauty) Natasha Emmerich was also an experienced contract lawyer and advisor to her father, having spent the last 3 years working at the MVV law firm in Santa Monica, quickly ascending to the role of junior partner. Cliff of course had his own agents and attorneys, but Natasha's eagle-eyed precision helped catch many problematic clauses in his various film and television agreements that others often missed. Plus, she was helpful at getting him out of sticky situations--namely, swooping in on the red carpet when Cliff veered off topic and into sensitive or "politically incorrect" territory. A couple of her "red carpet saves" had even gone viral, spreading across YouTube with comments ranging from the professional--"Talk about a good PR assist!"--to the pervy--"DAMN! No wonder Cliffy brings his daughter as his date. What a hot piece of ass!"
In any case, Natasha was always there for her father. And she figured, this time should be no different.
"Fine, but I can only spare an hour, and I have to be back at the office by two."
"You got it! I'll make it for twelve-thirty. Thanks for this, Tasha. I know she's excited to meet you."
As she drove toward the 405, Natasha made one final request. "Tell me her full name again."
***********************
Natasha was waiting at her father's private booth for ten minutes when the woman walked in.
She looked just like Natasha had imagined--at least, at first glance. She had long brunette hair, fair skin, and a tall figure, squeezed into a black, sleeveless dress.
Dad certainly has a type,
Natasha thought.
But as the woman neared the table, Natasha was surprised to see that--frankly--she wasn't that pretty. It wasn't that she was
unattractive,
per se, but she certainly didn't have the level of vapid, exotic beauty Natasha had come to expect from her father's girlfriends.
Maybe he's finally growing up,
Natasha hoped.
The woman's arms stuck out from what Natasha guessed was a size 16, and her thick neck ended in a weak jawline that caused her face to look rectangular and blocky. But still, she carried a Prada bag over her right shoulder and wore designer sunglasses, even as she wandered into the back of the darkened restaurant. From that alone, the woman looked like someone who had money and liked to flaunt it. Or more accurately, she looked like someone who wanted to
look
like she had money.
Nope, just another gold digger...
"You must be Tasha!" the woman said, opting for the nickname.
"Natasha," she responded, staying firm and formal. "And you must be Olivia Jarilo."
Olivia sat down, and up close, Natasha was still struck by her blandness and average features. She wasn't even wearing makeup, exposing a face of unsmooth skin; and her smile, although straight, showed too much gum to be truly appealing. But once she removed her sunglasses and set them on the table, Olivia displayed a pair of uncommonly beautiful, green eyes, definitely her most alluring feature.
"I'm so happy we're finally meeting! Your father's told me so much about you, and your sister, Heather."
"I'm sure," Natasha said, already wanting to skip the small talk. The mention of her younger sister, who was starting her freshman year at Cornell, gave Natasha the determination to remain stern and serious in her cross examination of Olivia.
To think, this young woman could one day be her stepmom--Stepmom #3, to be precise, since their mom tragically passed away from a brain tumor fifteen years ago. Some day soon, Olivia might be in charge of taking care of and being a mother to Heather--unless Natasha stepped in and put an end to this ridiculous, age-inappropriate relationship.
"So, tell me about yourself. How did you and my father meet, exactly?" she questioned.
"Oh, it was on the set of
Blue Shadow
. I was just doing a set visit--I'm sure Cliff told you, Monica Strauss and I are old friends, from well before she won her Oscar. Well, Monica for some reason thought your father and I would hit it off and insisted that we go out for drinks after the shoot. And I guess the rest is history."
"Right." Natasha nodded along, unimpressed with Olivia's dull, unromantic retelling of events. "I know my dad's a charming guy, but you weren't put off by his age? I mean, it's
double
yours, after all."
Olivia shook her head and swatted at the air as if to say,
oh please.
"Not at all, honestly. Like you said, he's a charming guy, and I happen to like the silver fox look. But then again, my tastes are pretty...eclectic..." she trailed off, ending on a strange and unusual note.
"And what is it you do for a living? My dad didn't clarify."
"I work in finance."
Natasha waited for further explanation, but none came.
"Right, that's what he told me. But that's pretty vague...Frankly, a lot of you is pretty vague. You told my dad you're 'Olivia Jarilo from Phoenix', but I have my doubts."
Olivia raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Did you do some snooping on me?"
Natasha smirked in response. "I wouldn't call it snooping. When someone intends on dating my father, I intend on finding out all I can about them. Just to make sure they're...shall we say, honest."
"And?" Olivia asked, seeming to enjoy this interrogation. "What did your little background check find?"
"That's just it--nothing. Your social media presence, your entire
internet
presence is nonexistent. And in this day, in this town, moving in the circles you move in...I'd say that's pretty rare."
Just at that moment, the Emmerichs' usual waitress, Annette, hurried over into their private section.
As she approached, Olivia muttered something under her breath. Natasha wasn't 100% sure what was said, but what she
