I don't see Kane for three days after that night.
Not because I don't want to—God, I want to so badly it's like a physical ache, but because Mara's suddenly everywhere. Crashing at my apartment. Dragging me to brunch. Planning our "post-grad summer" like we're still eighteen and have no responsibilities.
And I'm lying to her face every single second.
"You've been weird," she says on Wednesday.
We're at some overpriced café she picked, splitting an order of avocado toast because apparently that's what adults do now. "Distant.
What's going on?"
My stomach clenches. "Nothing. Just job stress."
"Your job doesn't start for another week."
"Anticipatory stress."
She narrows her eyes. "Is this about a guy?"
Fuck.
"What? No. Why would you..."
"Because you have that look. That 'I'm getting good dick' glow." She leans forward, grinning. "Oh my God. You're seeing someone. Who is he? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I'm not...there's no one—"
"LIAR. Elena Maria Okafor, you are the worst liar I've ever met. Your eye is literally twitching right now."
She's right. My eye is twitching. Because I'm sitting here lying to my best friend about fucking her father and the guilt is going to eat me alive.
"It's new," I finally admit. Not a lie. Just...
incomplete truth. "I don't want to jinx it by talking about it yet."
"But there IS someone."
"Maybe."
"Is he hot?"
So hot I can barely function around him. "He's... yeah. He's attractive."
"Age? Job? Dick size? I need details."
"Mara—"
"Fine. Be mysterious. But I'm meeting him eventually. Best friend rules. I have to approve."
The irony would be hilarious if I wasn't actively dying inside.
"Sure," I say weakly. "Eventually."
My phone buzzes. I flip it over too quickly.
Mara notices. "Is that him?"
"No. Just... spam."
But it's not spam.
It's Kane.
Miss you.
Two words. Simple. Devastating.
I wait until Mara's distracted, arguing with the waitress about whether the toast is gluten-free—before I respond.
Miss you too.
When can I see you?
I don't know. Mara's been attached to my hip.
Tell her you're busy.
She'll ask questions.
So lie.
The casual way he says it makes my chest tight.
Like lying to his daughter is just... something we do now. Something necessary.
I don't want to lie more than I have to.
Then what do you suggest?
I don't know. I don't have an answer. I just know I'm drowning and he's the only thing that feels like air.
"Elena. ELENA."
I look up. Mara's waving her hand in front of my face.
"Sorry. What?"
"I said, dinner at my dad's place Friday night. You. Me. Him. Family dinner vibes. He specifically asked me to invite you."
My heart stops.
"He... what?"
"Asked me to invite you. Said he enjoyed meeting you at the party and wants to get to know my friends better. Isn't that sweet? He's really trying with the whole present-parent thing."
Oh God.
Oh God oh God oh God.
"I don't think..."
"You're coming. Non-negotiable. He's cooking.
Like, actually cooking. Not ordering takeout and pretending. This is a big deal."
"Mara—"
"Friday. Seven PM. Wear something cute. And bring wine. Good wine, not the cheap shit we usually buy."
She's already decided. Already planned it.
And I'm trapped.
That night Kane calls me.
Not texts. Actually calls.
I'm in my apartment, fresh out of the shower, and his name lights up my screen.
I answer on the second ring. "We can't do this."
"Hello to you too, baby girl."
His voice. God. Low and rough and I'm instantly wet just from hearing it.
"Kane. The dinner. We can't... this is insane—"
"I know."
"Then why did you invite me?"
"Because I need to see you. And this is the only way that doesn't raise suspicion." He pauses.
"Unless you'd rather I didn't see you at all?"
"That's not fair."
"Nothing about this is fair."
Silence. I can hear him breathing. Can picture him in his house, probably in his bedroom, maybe lying in the same bed where he fucked me three days ago.
"What are you wearing?" he asks.
The shift in conversation gives me neck pain.
"What?"
"Right now. What are you wearing?"
"Kane—"
"Tell me."
"A towel. I just got out of the shower."
He makes a sound. Low. Pained. "You're killing me."
"Good. You deserve it for suggesting family dinner."
"Take off the towel."
"What?"
"You heard me. Take it off. I want you naked while we talk."
I should say no. Should hang up. Should establish literally any boundary.
Instead I drop the towel.
"Done," I whisper.
"Good girl. Now get on your bed."
I do. Heart racing.
"Touch yourself," he commands. "Slowly. Tell me what you're thinking about."
"Kane..."
"Do it. And call me what you know I want to hear."
Fuck.
My hand slides between my legs. Already wet.
Have been since his name appeared on my screen.
"I'm thinking about you," I breathe. "About that night. How you felt inside me."
"Keep going."
"Thinking about your hands. Your mouth. The way you called me your good girl."
"You are my good girl. My perfect baby girl. Touch your clit. Circle it like I would."
I do. Gasp.
"That's it. Feel good?"
"Yes. God yes. Daddy—"
"Fuck. Say it again."
"Daddy. Please. Need you."
"I know baby. I know. But you're going to cum for me like this. On your fingers. Imagining it's my cock."
"It's not enough"
"It has to be. For now. Friday I'll make it up to you.
I'll fuck you so good you forget your own name."
"Promise?"
"Promise. Now cum for Daddy. Let me hear it."
I'm already close. Too close. The combination of his voice and my fingers and the absolute insanity of phone sex with my best friend's father pushes me over.
I cum gasping his name. Well. Not his name.
"Daddy. Oh God. Daddy—"
"That's my girl. So perfect. Wish I could see you right now."
I'm boneless. Shaking. Completely wrecked from just his voice and my own hand.
"This is so fucked up," I whisper.
"I know."
"We're terrible people."
"Probably."
"I can't do the dinner, Kane. I can't sit across from you and Mara and pretend..."
"Yes you can. You're stronger than you think."
"I'm not. I'm weak. If I was strong I would've walked away already."
"Then it's good we're both weak."
I want to argue. Want to find some moral high ground to stand on.
But there isn't any.
We're both drowning and neither of us is trying to swim.
"Friday," I finally say. "Seven PM."
"Wear that black dress. The one from graduation."
"How do you remember what I wore?"
"I remember everything about you, Elena. Every detail. Every sound you make. The way you taste. All of it."
My chest tightens. This is more than sex. We both know it's more than sex.
Which somehow makes it worse.
"I should go," I say.
"Yeah. Me too." He doesn't hang up. "Elena?"
"Yeah?"
"Three more days. I can make it three more days."
"Me too."
We stay on the line for another minute. Just breathing. Connected by nothing but silence and terrible decisions.
Then he hangs up.
And I'm alone in my bed, naked and guilty and already counting down the hours until Friday.
Friday arrives like an execution date.
I change outfits six times. Settle on the black dress like he asked. Add a cardigan because showing up looking too good feels suspicious.
Then take off the cardigan because fuck it, I'm already lying about everything else. Might as well look good doing it.
I pick up wine from the expensive store. The kind that costs forty dollars and comes with a sommelier's recommendation. Mara will think I'm trying too hard but I don't care.
If I'm going to hell I'm bringing good wine.
At 6:55 I'm parked outside Kane's house. Hands shaking on the steering wheel.
Mara's car is already here. I can see her through the window, setting the table.
Normal. Domestic. Completely unaware her best friend is fucking her father.
I grab the wine. Force myself to walk to the door.
Ring the bell because using the key feels too intimate with Mara here.
She answers. Grinning. Already tipsy.
"You made it! And you brought fancy wine. See Dad? I told you she has taste."
Kane appears behind her. Dark jeans. Navy henley. Hair still damp like he just showered.
Our eyes meet.
Something passes between us. Hot. Dangerous.
Then he smiles. Polite. Distant.
"Elena. Good to see you again."
Again. Like we're casual acquaintances. Like he didn't make me come on the phone three days ago.
"Thanks for having me," I manage. Hand him the wine.
Our fingers brush. Deliberate.
"Let me get you a drink," he says. "Mara's already started without us."
"I had half a glass," Mara protests. "That's starting?"
"You're a lightweight. Half a glass is drunk for you."
They banter. Easy. Familiar.
And I'm the outsider. The interloper. The girl ruining their family with her presence.
Dinner is torture.
Kane made Nigerian food—jollof rice, fried plantains, some kind of chicken stew that smells incredible.
"Your mom's recipe?" I ask without thinking.
He looks surprised I remembered. "Yeah. She insisted I learn before she went back to Lagos. Said I needed to feed myself properly."
"It's good," I say after the first bite. Mean it. "Really good."
"Better than your mom's?" Mara teases.
"I'm not answering that. My mom will disown me."
We laugh. Normal dinner conversation.
Except Kane's foot finds mine under the table.
Gentle pressure. Hidden.
I nearly choke on my rice.
Mara doesn't notice. She's scrolling through her phone, showing us pictures from her mom's birthday party last weekend.
"You should've been there, Dad. Mom asked about you."
"I'm sure she did," Kane says dryly. "How is she?"
"Good. Dating someone new. An architect. Very boring. But nice."
"Good for her."
There's no bitterness in his voice. Just... acceptance. Like he's long past caring about his ex-wife's love life.
His foot slides higher. Stroking my calf.
I kick him gently. Stop.
He smirks into his wine glass.
"So Elena," Mara says. "Tell Dad about your new job. She's starting at that marketing firm downtown. Big deal position."
"Congratulations," Kane says. Looking directly at me. "What will you be doing?"
"Brand strategy. Social media management. The usual."
"She's being modest," Mara interrupts. "She's going to be managing million-dollar accounts. My best friend is a corporate badass."
"I don't doubt it," Kane says softly.
The way he says it, like he's proud of me—makes my chest tight.
"What about you?" I ask. Deflecting. "Mara said you're consulting now? Not doing the Singapore thing anymore?"
"Correct. Freelance development consulting. Lets me stay local. Be around more."
He glances at Mara when he says it. Guilt obvious.
She reaches over. Squeezes his hand. "I'm glad you're back, Dad. Really. Even if you do insist on embarrassing me by trying to bond with my friends."
"Is that what I'm doing? Embarrassing you?"
"Extremely. But I'll allow it."
They smile at each other. Real affection there.
And I'm sitting here ruining it. Destroying this fragile thing they're rebuilding.
The guilt is suffocating.
I excuse myself. "Bathroom?"
"Down the hall," Kane says. "First door on the left."
I escape. Lock myself in the bathroom. Grip the sink.
Breathe.
This is insane. I can't do this. Can't sit through dinner pretending while his daughter, my best friend—talks about how happy she is we're all together.
My phone buzzes.
You okay? Kane.
No.
Meet me in my office. Five minutes. Tell Mara you're taking a call.
Kane...
Five minutes.
His office is at the end of the hall. Dimly lit. Bookshelves and a massive desk.
I slip inside.
He's already there. Waiting.
The second the door closes he's on me.
Mouth crashing into mine. Hands in my hair.
Backing me against the wall.
"We can't," I gasp between kisses. "She's right down the hall..."
"I know. Don't care. Need you."
His hand slides under my dress. Finds me already wet.
"Fuck," he groans. "You're soaked."
"Because you kept touching me under the table..."
"Couldn't help it. You look so fucking good in this dress."
He yanks my panties down. They hit the floor.
"Kane we don't have time"
"Then I'll be quick."
He spins me around. Bends me over his desk. I hear his belt. The zipper.
Then he's pushing inside me. No warning. Just...
Fuck.
I bite my arm to keep from crying out.
"Quiet," he growls in my ear. "Can't let her hear how good Daddy's fucking you."
He's not gentle. Not slow. Just hard desperate thrusts that make his desk creak.
"This what you needed?" he pants. "Needed Daddy's cock?"
"Yes. God yes. Harder—"
His hand covers my mouth. "Quiet, baby girl. Be good and stay quiet for me."
I'm trying. God I'm trying. But he feels so good and this is so wrong and the risk of getting caught is making everything more intense.
His other hand finds my clit. Circles roughly.
I'm going to cum. Already. Embarrassingly fast.
"That's it," he breathes. "Feel you getting tight.
Gonna cum on Daddy's cock?"
I nod frantically against his hand.
"Do it. Cum for me. Quiet."
The orgasm hits hard. My whole body shaking. I'm making sounds against his palm that would definitely carry if he wasn't muffling them.
He fucks me through it. Then pulls out suddenly.
I hear him finish. Groaning low. Spilling onto my lower back.
We're both breathing hard.
He grabs tissues from his desk. Cleans me carefully. Pulls my dress back down.
"Sorry," he mutters. "Should've asked first. Before I..."
"It's fine. It was..." I turn to face him. "We're insane. She's literally in the next room."
"I know."
"We have to stop."
"I know."
Neither of us moves.
He cups my face. Kisses me soft. Sweet. Different from thirty seconds ago.
"You're doing so good," he murmurs. "I know this is hard. Know you're struggling. But you're so strong, baby."
The tenderness breaks something in me.
"I'm not strong. I'm a terrible person. Terrible friend."
"No. You're human. You made a choice. We both did."
"The wrong choice."
"Maybe. Probably." He kisses my forehead. "But I can't regret it. Can't regret you."
Voices in the hall.
We spring apart.
"Elena?" Mara's calling. "You fall in or something?"
Kane hands me my panties. I shove them in my purse.
"Coming!" I call back. Voice only slightly shaky.
I check myself in the reflection of his window. Smooth my dress. Fix my hair.
"You look perfect," Kane says quietly.
"I look fucked."
"Exactly. Perfect."
Despite everything I smile.
We slip out separately. Him first. Then me thirty seconds later.
Back to the dining room where Mara's clearing plates.
"There you are," she says. "Thought you got lost.
Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Just... work call. Sorry."
"On a Friday night? Your boss sucks."
"Yeah. He really does."
I help her clear the table. Avoid looking at Kane who's getting dessert from the kitchen.
Normal. We're being so normal.
Except I can still feel where he was inside me ten minutes ago.
Dessert is chocolate cake. Homemade.
"Dad made this," Mara announces proudly. "From scratch. With real eggs and everything."
"I know how to bake, Mara."
"Since when?"
"Since always. You just never paid attention."
They bicker. I eat cake. Try not to think about how his cum was on my back five minutes ago.
My phone buzzes under the table.
Kane: You have a little…
He trails off. I look up.
He gestures subtly to the corner of his mouth.
Fuck. I wipe. Chocolate frosting.
He smirks.
Mara catches it. "What's funny?"
"Nothing," Kane says smoothly. "Just remembered something. Work thing."
"You're both working too much. This is supposed to be a celebration dinner."
"You're right," he agrees. Raises his wine glass.
"To Mara. And Elena. And new beginnings."
We toast.
New beginnings.
If only she knew.
At ten PM Mara finally crashes.
Too much wine. Too much food. She's passed out on the couch, mouth open, snoring softly.
Kane throws a blanket over her. Gentle. Paternal.
"I should go," I whisper.
"Stay. Just a little longer."
"Kane..."
"Please."
We end up in the kitchen. Cleaning dishes in silence.
It's domestic. Comfortable. Wrong.
"Thank you," he says eventually. "For tonight. For handling it so well."
"I lied to her approximately forty times."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Are you though?"
He stops washing. Looks at me. "No. I'm not sorry. I'm selfish and going to hell but I'm not sorry."
"Me neither."
"We're terrible people."
"The worst."
He dries his hands. Moves closer. "She's asleep."
"I know."
"Could stay. Just for a bit. Talk."
"Talking. Right. That what we're calling it?"
His smile is wicked. "We could actually talk. If you want."
Do I want?
Actually... yeah. I do.
We end up on the back porch. Night air cool. Stars out.
He pulls me onto his lap. Arms around my waist.
Chin on my shoulder.
Not sexual. Just... holding me.
"Tell me something true," he says quietly.
"Like what?"
"Anything. Something no one else knows."
I think about it. "I'm terrified. Of everything. The job. The future. This thing with you. All of it."
"What scares you most?"
"Losing Mara. When she finds out, and she will find out eventually—she's going to hate me. Hate us. And I don't know if I can survive that."
His arms tighten. "We'll figure it out."
"How? There's no version of this that doesn't hurt her."
"I know."
"So why are we doing this?"
"Because some things are worth the risk." He turns me to face him. "You're worth the risk."
"You barely know me."
"I know enough. Know you're smart and funny and brave even when you don't feel like it. Know you make me feel things I haven't felt in years. Know I'm falling for you way too fast and I don't know how to stop."
My breath catches. "Falling?"
"Yeah. Terrifying, right?"
"Completely."
"You feel it too?"
Do I?
Yeah. I do.
"Yeah," I admit. "I feel it too."
He kisses me. Slow. Deep. Tasting like wine and chocolate and promises we probably can't keep.
"Stay tonight," he murmurs against my lips. "Sleep in my bed. Wake up with me."
"Mara's here—"
"She's passed out cold. Won't wake up until noon.
Stay. Please."
I should say no.
Should go home. Create distance. Remember why this is a terrible idea.
But his arms are warm and I'm tired of being strong.
"Okay," I whisper. "Just tonight."
"Just tonight," he agrees.
We both know it's a lie.
This stopped being "just" anything the second we started.
Later, much later—I'm in his bed. Wrapped in his arms. Listening to him breathe.
And I think: This is it. This is the moment I should walk away.
Before I fall any deeper.
Before the inevitable ending destroys me.
But I don't move.
Don't leave.
Just close my eyes and let myself pretend.
Pretend this could work.
Pretend we're not heading for disaster.
Pretend I'm not already in love with a man I can never actually have.
Outside the door I hear movement.
Footsteps.
Mara.
My heart stops.
The footsteps pause outside Kane's bedroom.
I hold my breath.
Please don't open the door. Please don't open the door.
The footsteps continue. Bathroom. Water running.
Then back down the hall.
Back to the couch.
I exhale shakily.
"She didn't see," Kane murmurs. Already awake.
"Go back to sleep."
But I can't.
Because that was too close.
Way too close.
And eventually, inevitably—our luck is going to run out.
The question is: what happens then?