Kieron greets me with a warm and charming smile that I'm already far too familiar with, before stepping forward to give me the kind of hug that might be reserved for an ageing grandmother or maiden aunt.

"Connie, so good to meet you at last. Grace has told me so much about you."

Except, evidentially what I look like.

Feeling increasingly awkward I turn my attention to the bar, making noises about getting myself a drink, but before I can, Kieron is already on it.

"Allow me to fetch you one. Let me guess, you look like a Manhattan kind of a girl to me..."

Suddenly I get the impression that he is enjoying this far more than I am, and if I have any doubts remaining of that, the direction he drives the conversation in when he returns with my drink, quickly extinguishes them.

He puts an arm around Grace's shoulder affectionately, "Isn't she beautiful? And so grown up for," he grins at me playfully, "14."

Grace, mistaking his playfulness as sibling teasing, punches him on the arm, as she informs him she's nearly 17, but I find myself lost for words as my own earlier attempts to play down my age apparently come back to bite me on the arse.

Thankfully at that moment, the Maitre d comes to seat us, so the conversation peters out but as we head to the table Kieron steps back to let me go in front of him, and I'm stunned to feel the brush of a hand on my skirt, and when I turn to face him I'm greeted by raised eyes, and a wry smile.

I can't respond of course, there's no way I want to risk drawing Sam and Grace's attention to his actions so instead I opt for a very brief version of my patented death stare and move on quickly, out of his reach.

I don't know what kind of game the young Mr Strachan is playing, but I know it's one I can't afford to get involved in. No matter how attractive he is.

Once we're seated, Grace starts telling me about her day, but if I'm honest I'm barely there; all too aware of Kieron sat beside me, his earlier words about fucking me playing in my mind on repeat. It can't happen, not now, but it doesn't stop me thinking about it. In fact, I can think of nothing else.

After a few minutes Grace seems to realise that I'm not on the planet because she stops abruptly, and looks at me curiously.

"Earth to mum, are you feeling OK?"

I force myself to focus, and smile, nodding slightly, "Fine, just tired. It's been a long day."

This seems to satisfy her, and the conversation moves on, with me trying harder to keep up. We peruse our menus, and place our orders, at which point both Sam and Grace excuse themselves to use the bathrooms, which comes as quite a relief and allows me to ask the burning question of the hour.

"What the hell were you playing at?"

Kieron grins with amusement at my query, and then shrugs with a ridiculous amount of nonchalance given the situation we find ourselves in, "I didn't recognise you. You were a brunette in all Grace's photos."

It's a weak but passable excuse, I suppose, and I find myself willing to forgive him, until he continues sounding somewhat smug.

"So what's your excuse. You must have seen photos of me on G's socials. Or Dad's."

It is something of bone of contention that Grace doesn't allow me on her social media accounts because it's "not cool" so him drawing attention to the fact doesn't win him any brownie points. And as for Sam's Facebook, I've long since stopped looking, finding the endless parade of bimbos he's shagging rather too nauseating to stomach.

I go to explain both of the above points, but Kieron brushes the explanations away,

"To be honest, I'm not bothered. It's not really an issue is it?"

That stops me in my tracks. Since the moment we were formally introduced the connection between us has been nothing but an issue, as my plans for wild unabashed sex have gone down the drain, only to be replaced with what I imagine is going to be eternal awkwardness. And yet, Kieron doesn't seem to be seeing it.

I raise my eyes at him, "It's not an issue? Seriously?"

He looks at me, undressing me all over again with his eyes, leaving me feeling utterly helpless and to my own horror, completely turned on.

"You wanted a fuck, Connie. I'm going to give you one."

His words only increase my arousal, although I try to deny it to both myself and him, because there's absolutely no way what he's describing can happen.

"My daughter is your sister. Your father..."

He cuts me dead, "... was little more than a sperm donor. No complications there. Your words," he reminds me, "and as for my sister, she doesn't need to know. After all," he reaches out, and I take a sharp inhalation of breath as I feel him slide his hand onto my thigh and up my skirt, "I'm sure you don't tell her about your other hook ups. I bet Grace has no idea what an utter slut her mum actually is."

Fuck.

"Kieron..." I struggle for a response, as both his touch and his words have had a monumental effect on me. I know I should be arguing, I know I should be screaming blue murder or shoving him away, but I just can't. My body won't let me.

"Kieron, what?" He asks as I feel his hand move higher, dangerously close to my underwear, "What's bothering you here, Connie? You weren't so coy when you were whoring yourself out at the bar before."

"I can't..." My words come out as little more than a whisper, and are quickly curtailed as his fingers slide under the elastic of my Agent Provocateur knickers, and I can tell by the look on his face that he's acutely aware of how turned on I am. He toys with me for a moment, both mentally and physically, and then looks at me questioningly, "You we're saying."

I close my eyes, telling myself it's so I can gather myself and get a grip, but in actual fact, it's not that at all. I'm actually just enjoying his actions, without the guilt of being able seeing his face.

"Open your eyes, and look at me." He said, as if reading my mind, his tone is calm and controlling, and I am powerless to do anything other than exactly what he tells me. He smiles, "Good girl."

It ought to be patronising. I ought to hate it. It isn't. I don't.

"So, one more time." He glances across the room, to where Sam is rapidly making his return, "I want you, and I'm going to have you. Understood?"

I nod without hesitation, because although it's wrong, and I'm in over my head, I want him too. Desperately.

He smiles, and slowly removes his hand from my skirt, although he makes the action last until Sam is virtually on top of us. Somehow, I don't mind. I'm actually disappointed to feel it go.

As Sam takes his seat, he looks at me curiously, "Con, are you sure you're OK?" I nod, still slightly lost for words, and he continues to look concerned, "You look flushed? Are you coming down with something?"

I open my mouth to answer, but before I can, Kieron jumps in,

"Actually, Dad, Connie was just saying she's not feeling great. I offered to run her home, but she's worried about disappointing Grace. What do you think?"

Sam reaches out and lays a hand on my forehead, an action that feels uncomfortably intimate given all that is unfolding, "I think I agree with you. Grace will understand. Won't you kiddo?" He asks as our daughter rejoins us.

"Understand what?"

"Mum's not well. Kieron's going to take her home."

I pray that my daughter will react negatively, with a sulky retort or sceptical eye-roll; anything that will get me out of the departure that Kieron is suggesting. I can imagine exactly what he has in mind, and although part of me is crying out for it, another part, the more sensible considered part knows that I need to take some time to fully consider the implications before diving straight in.

However, it's not to be, as Grace nods, concern in her eyes, "Of course. I didn't think you seemed right before." She turns to her brother, "Thank you for offering to take her."

I groan inwardly, pondering exactly how long Grace's new found maturity would last if she knew what Kieron's motives were for extricating me so speedily from the restaurant.

I open my mouth to point out that we've already ordered, but as it's becoming clear it's characteristic for him to do, Kieron takes complete control of the situation, and before I know I'm on my feet, being helped into my coat, and walking out of the restaurant, with Sam and Grace's exclamations of "Feel better" ringing in my ears.

"You couldn't have waited until after dessert?" I enquire, once we are out of their earshot.

Kieron smirks in response, "Nope."

The level of manipulation involved makes me feel uncomfortable, but at the same time I can feeling my skin burning under the touch of the 'supportive' hand on my shoulder. I feel completely at his mercy, and that in itself is more arousing than I would ever be prepared to admit.

"You were prepared to wait before." I point out, remembering the way he'd taken my number earlier in the evening. "What's different now?"

He laughs slightly, "Well, I didn't know you'd screwed my Dad then, and since you seem to be developing a conscience about that, there's no way I'm risking you changing your mind. I'm having you,"

We leave the restaurant and the gentle arm around my shoulder suddenly becomes a vice like grip as he pulls me in the direction of a nearby alley.

"And I'm having you now."