My Dad's Friend Took Me Novel by Regean Wills _ Novel




My Dad's Friend Took Me Chapter 01

I fell for a man I had no business wanting—Santino Denford, my father's friend.
He was unfairly good-looking, with smooth skin, deep-set, sharp-edged eyes, and a high, straight nose. His fingers were long and slender.
He carried himself with reckless, unconcerned confidence.
Whenever he was anywhere near me, my eyes saw only him.
"Elle, come here," Santino said the moment I stepped through the front door.
He sat on the leather sofa in the living room, a woman with wavy hair and blazing red lips at his side.
His arm was wrapped around her waist; they looked incredibly intimate.
I lowered my gaze and walked over to stand before them.
"This is my girlfriend, Priscilla Kirkeman. Say hi."
Santino's tone was flat, as if it were someone else's business.
The word "girlfriend" felt like a dagger driving straight into my chest.
I stood there, stubbornly refusing to say a word.
The atmosphere grew tense until Priscilla stepped in to smooth things over. "Oh, it's fine if Elle doesn't want to. She's probably just shy. Don't worry about it."
After they spent a little more time wrapped up in each other, Santino walked her out. I changed into my pajamas and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash up for the night.
Without warning, a pair of arms wrapped around me from behind.
I froze mid-wash, my hands still wet.
Santino's face appeared in the mirror.
"Tino," I said softly.
He tightened his grip around my waist, pulling me back as if he wanted to merge my body into his.
The irony stung—he was still covered in the scent of another woman's perfume.
YSL's Black Opium—the so-called "man-magnet" fragrance.
Santino leaned in close to my ear. "Why didn't you say anything earlier?"
I turned on the faucet, our eyes locking in the mirror.
"Are you really going to marry her?"
A biting chill grazed my skin.
"Her father is my most important business partner. Marrying her is a win-win for everyone involved."
Right, I almost forgot—he was a businessman who only did what served his own interests.
Summoning every bit of strength I had, I pried his fingers off me.
Santino seemed caught off guard by the move.
I looked at him, feeling the energy drain from my body until I was hollow.
When I finally spoke, my voice was barely a whisper.
"Santino, let's end this. Right now."
***
I first met Santino when I was 15.
It was at my father's funeral.
Dressed in black, he walked up to me and brushed the tears from the corners of my eyes.
His expression was stern and cold, yet his touch was incredibly gentle.
I choked out, "Who... who are you?"
He paused.
"My name is Santino.
"I am a friend of your father's."
After that, he took me in.
At first, I was incredibly guarded, holding myself back in everything I did.
But Santino treated me well—truly well.
He made sure I had everything I needed—just not when it came to makeup.
In high school, a few girls in my class started wearing makeup. I was tempted, so I used the allowance Santino gave me to buy a lipstick of my own.
I had only just put it on when he came home and caught me red-handed.
He stared intensely at my lips, and I couldn't stop myself from shivering under his gaze.
"I... I'll go wash it off," I stammered.
"Stop right there."
He pulled out a napkin, dampened half of it with water, and folded it over. Then, he stepped in front of me.
A cold sensation touched my lips. I tried to pull away, but my back was already against the wall—I was trapped.
Santino handled me as if he were carving a masterpiece, wiping the color away with such precision that not a single trace remained.
When he was finished, he said calmly, "No more makeup from now on.
"I want you to stay pure and innocent."
I held onto those words for years.
He told me I was a pure, innocent girl, never letting me wear even a hint of makeup.
The irony of it all was that he loved those heavily made‑up, curvy bombshells.
He must have hated me. Right?
He even haunted my dreams. Every time, I'd murmur, "Santino, please don't hate me... okay?"
I rolled over and kept mumbling to myself.
"Could you... try to like me? Just a little bit?"
Through the haze of sleep, a faint voice seemed to whisper, "Okay."
I must have been dreaming.
How else could I have heard Santino say "okay"?
And so, after I turned 18, I kept loving him in secret—becoming the most pathetic creature in the world.

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