After turning his rental Porsche over to the valet, Christian helped Amy out of the passenger's side and lead her into the lobby of the high-class hotel. He looked down at her, his brows furrowing in concern as she swayed unsteadily on her feet. It was hard to look at her without getting furious with her adoptive father for what he'd done. His heart constricted in his chest at her current state, feeling more sinful by the minute. "You doing all right sweetheart?"
She looked up at him, as they neared the elevators, a scowl on her face. Suddenly, he realized there were still tears left in her eyes. It was evident she was struggling to hold herself together. He was somewhat surprised when she gently nodded her head. "Yeah," she spoke softly.
He didn't quite believe her, but decided he'd let it go for now. The most important thing at the moment was to get her taken care of before she got worse. He waited rather impatiently for the next elevator to open up. As soon as one did, not another minute was wasted as he stepped inside with her. Within seconds they were ascending to their designated floor. Neither one of them said another word to the other on the way up. Their room was located on the thirty second floor. Christian had opted for the two-bedroom Penthouse Suite. Whether he was flying first class or sitting VIP at a strip show, he always had to live the life of luxury. Especially when he was with his own daughter.
In the short time it took Christian to get to the Bellagio hotel - where he and Amy were staying - he couldn't think of anything else but how guilty he felt. A huge weight was placed on his shoulders, and he constantly asked himself the same questions over and over again. How could he be so irresponsible? How could he think to leave her alone, even for less than five minutes? He blamed himself for being such an arrogant prick all the time. He never thought about anything else but himself, and now that he had a daughter, without even realizing it, he was beginning to get careless. The old, womanizing and narcissistic Christian Troy was coming back to haunt him.
The broad corridor was relatively quiet as they stepped off of the elevator. That was to be expected considering that it was well close to midnight. Vegas might have been known for the town that never slept, but if the other occupants on their floor weren't out partying the night away or gambling, they were probably asleep. Christian continued to allow Amy to lean against him as they made their way down to their room, knowing she needed the support, both physically and emotionally. He reached under his suit jacket for their room key, stepping away from her for the moment to unlock their room and held the door open for her to step inside.
Amy wrapped her arms around herself in a protective manner as she crossed the threshold, stepping into the marble foyer. Christian stepped inside after her, shutting the door behind him and instantly flipping on the light switch near the door. He watched her movements closely, making certain she was all right to walk on her own. Once he was sure, he stepped further into the shadowy room, entering the living area. The only light that shined at the moment came from the foyer. As he searched around for the lamp to turn it on, he noticed her stumble out of the corner of his eye. In an instant, he was at her side, catching her in the knick of time before she toppled over.
"Whoa! You need to be more careful sweetheart. Are you all right?" He searched her face in the dimly lit room.
She used his forearms to steady herself and nodded her head, a soft sigh escaping her. "Yeah, sorry. There was just...a chair in my way."
Christian reached out to find the nearest lamp, and rotated the switch to turn it on. A warm glow instantly came over the extensive living and dining area. The interior of the room was upholstered in golden, cream and pink tones to fit with the sophistication of the hotel. When the area filled with light, he now noticed the extent of the cuts and bruises on her face. Most of the blood had dried up by now, but the bruises were still fresh. He sighed softly before motioning to the sofa. "Why don't you sit down sweetheart and we'll get you taken care of."
She bit down on her bottom lip apprehensively but nodded her head in regard as she sat down, wincing slightly as she did so. Christian turned on his heels and started towards the wet bar that sat across the room, suddenly realizing that he had not brought his medical bag along with him. He knew there wasn't a first-aid kit in their room. After stepping through the door on the right to enter the bar, he looked over at her, "I didn't bring any supplies with me. I'll have to obtain a first-aid kit from the hotel instead." He grabbed a towel from beneath the bar and scooped up a handful of ice, gathering it into the towel.
She leaned back against the throw pillows on the sofa and nodded once again. "Okay."
He stepped out from behind the bar a moment later, striding across the room to where she was seated and handing the towel of ice over to her. "Put this on your bruises. It should help with the pain, and bring down some of the swelling." She took the ice from him and held it against her body, on the area just below her ribs. His gaze fixated on her abdomen, his brows furrowing inquisitively. He didn't know the extent of her injuries besides those on her face, but something told him that she was in a lot more pain than she let on. Pushing aside the objects that were on the coffee table, he sat down across from her with a deep sigh. He kept his focus on the spot she was holding the ice. "Are you experiencing any pain in your abdomen, sweetheart?"
She exhaled sharply before gradually nodding her head. "A little...maybe a lot." Her shoulders rose and fell in a shrug.
"Do you mind if I take a look?" Before she had a chance to reply, his hands were already reaching out towards the bottom hem of her blouse. She was hesitant but finally gave him a shake of her head. Removing the ice from her stomach, she allowed him to lift up her shirt only to reveal a large bruise with a dark blue and purple tint to it. He scowled deeply at the sight, his eyes scrutinizing the extent of it. He probed the skin around the area with his fingers, not too hard but not softly either. She winced and cried out from the pain. He stole a glance up at her, "are you having any difficulty breathing?"
She shook her head. "No, not really. It just hurts whenever something rubs against it or touches it." Her eyes began welling up in tears all over again, her voice breaking with her next words, "my...mom use to get...bruises like this. When my...adoptive father would throw her against the wall in our apartment." A tear rolled down her cheek as she sniffled softly.
He nodded his head in understanding, but froze when she began relaying the recollection of her parents to him. His hands gradually fell away as he listened to her in sorrow, his heart breaking as she began to cry. He lowered his tone of voice, reaching out to give her arm a comforting rub. "I won't allow that asshole to touch you again, I promise. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure of that. We'll file a restraining order, we'll make sure you have a safe place to stay, we'll make sure its taken care of."
She sniffled deeply, bringing one of hands up to wipe the tears from her eyes with the pad of her index finger. She shook her head, dropping her gaze to her lap. "I don't know if that's such a good idea. If you do all that, my mom is bound to find out sooner or later and when she does..." Slowly, she brought her eyes back up to meet with his. "She'll know about you. I still don't know if I'm ready to tell her yet. I have no idea how she'll react, and if she reacts badly, I might never get to..." Her voice trailed off, breaking down into tears.
Christian didn't need for her to continue. He could tell where that sentence was headed. If she told her mother, he might never get to see Amy again. In fact, it could very well end up being deja vu all over again and a custody battle could ensue the way it did with Wilbur. He had lost one child and he was not about to lose another one. He sighed in frustration before moving to sit beside her, his arm slipping around her shoulders. "I won't allow that to happen," he told her. "If you think that asshole is going to rat you out to your mother, he sure as hell isn't going to know who I am. You have nothing to worry about."
She sighed wearily and rested her head on his shoulder, sniffling deeply as her tears began to die down. "Are you sure?"
To be honest, he wasn't sure. He didn't know how her adoptive father's mind worked. For all he knew, this man could slip past him...again, finding some other way of getting revenge on his daughter. However, if push came to shove, Christian wouldn't let Amy out of his sight for too long. If it came to it, he'd make sure she was safe and sound back at his condo, and if that didn't pan out, he knew there was always Sean or Julia. He rested his cheek on her head with a scowl. "We'll get through this sweetheart. There's no hurry. Whenever you're ready to tell your mother, I'll leave it up to you. If it makes you feel any better, we can tell her together, all right?" She nodded her head lightly. Lifting his cheek from her head, he averted his gaze down to her abdomen, "I don't think there was any permanent damage done to your abdominal region, but an X-Ray would be more precise in determining if it was simply a bruise or possibly a broken rib."
She was already shaking her head even before he had finished his last sentence. "I don't want to...go to the hospital, Christian. Not here and not now. Please." Her eyes pleaded with his own.
Even if they were still in South Beach, Christian had a feeling that she would still refuse to go anyway. He had picked up on her fear of hospitals when they'd gone in for the paternity test. Still, it was too bad that they weren't in Florida at the moment. With enough reassurance, it was possible that he could convince her to having the X-Ray done at McNamara/Troy. A soft sigh escaped him, "It was only a suggestion. I hadn't exactly implied that we go anywhere." He placed a kiss to the top of her head before pulling back and looking her in the eyes. "I want you to keep that ice on your abdomen until I get back. I'm going to run down to the lobby and see if I can borrow a first-aid kit from the hotel."
She looked up at him as he rose to his feet, placing the ice back on her stomach as he'd instructed her to. Propping her legs up on the sofa, she sank down into the soft cushions beneath her and got comfortable, leaning her head against the pillows at the end of it. She scowled as she watched him shuffle towards the door. "Okay."
"I won't be gone long, I promise." When she didn't reply back to him, he went on. "You don't have anything to worry about, that asshole isn't going to get in without a key." She gave him a small smile, which gave him enough reassurance to turn around and continue towards the door. He was right. There was no way in hell that her adoptive father would find her there, unless of course he followed them, but even then, he had no idea what room they were in and without a key, he wouldn't even get past security.
Christian had kept his promise and had been gone no more than fifteen minutes. The hotel hadn't questioned him when he'd requested their first-aid kit, and had even believed the excuse he'd given about his friend having cut themselves pretty badly and needed to be taken care of. He'd stopped by one of the hotel shops for some pain killers before heading back upstairs. Amy was still in the same place he'd left her when he re-entered the room, except her eyes were closed. A soft sigh escaped him as he crossed the room to where she laid. For a moment, he thought she was asleep, but as soon as he set down the items in his hands down on the coffee table, a soft moan escaped her and her eyes came open. "How are you doing sweetheart?" He asked as he sat himself down on the coffee table once again, looking over at her with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
She turned her head to look at him, blinking back her sluggishness. Her shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. "A little better, not much though." She scowled, bringing her free hand up to her forehead, instantly pulling it back when her fingers grazed the cut that still remained there.
He turned towards the items that sat beside him, grabbing the small box of Tylenol and holding it up for her to see. "This ought to help with the pain. As soon as we get you patched up, I'd suggest you slip into bed and get some sleep. You should be feeling better by tomorrow morning."
She nodded her head in approval before he rose to his feet once again. He disappeared into the bathroom for a towel and wet it with soap and water, returning to her not a minute later and beginning to clean the cuts on her face. She winced at the pain. He apologized, knowing how it must sting. Her next words nearly caught him off guard, but he continued on with the work at hand, patting the cuts clean with a non-soaped up area of the towel.
"Can I...ask you something?"
"Go right ahead."
"What...happened to you back at the Eiffel Tower? I mean, one minute you were there and the next...he was."
He froze at her choice of words, not knowing what to say at first. Bringing his hand down, he looked down at his feet, swallowing the huge lump that had formed in his throat. He should have seen this coming even before he had swooped in to rescue her. Now that she brought it up, that guilt became ten times worse. What was he suppose to say? He couldn't very well come out and tell her the real reason why he hadn't been there. He couldn't give her the cold hard truth that he'd been distracted with some blonde. She'd hate him for sure. He exhaled sharply, replying with the first thing that came to mind, "I got a call from Sean. I just stepped away for a few minutes. I would have told you, but you seemed to be a bit distracted at the time. I never thought..." He sighed woefully before finally looking up at her, taking one of her hands in his with a squeeze. "I'll never let it happen again. You'll be safe from now on."
She scowled up at him, her brows furrowing slightly, almost as if she were deciding whether or not to believe him. For his sake, Christian hoped that she would. She looked down at their linked hands. "I'm just glad you came when you did," she spoke softly.
In all actuality, he should have been thanking her for screaming as loud as she had for him at the time. God knows what would have happened if she'd waited another minute. The thought terrified him so much that his entire body went numb. For a long moment, he didn't say anything, and tried as he might to hold back his on coming emotion. The two of them just sat there in silence, the pad of his thumb rubbing lightly against the back of her hand.
"Are you done yet?"
The sound of her voice suddenly pulled him out of the trance he'd fallen into. Bringing his eyes back up to hers, he sighed and shook his head. "Not quite." Setting the wet towel aside, he opened up the first-aid kit and took out a tube of cleaning solvent, along with a few long and thin q-tips. "I'm about to apply a solvent to the cuts which will prevent any infection. It might sting a little. You'll want to let them air out for the night." He twisted the cap off of the tube and squeezed a small amount onto a q-tip. Leaning in, he began applying the transparent fluid to the cuts on her face.
She winced as soon as the q-tip touched her cuts. "Ow!" He apologized once again, but she shortly got use to the disinfectant and laid still, allowing him to continue. After a brief moment of silence, she spoke once again. "Um...Christian? I have something to tell you. I just hope you don't get mad at me."
A pessimistic feeling came over him. "Well, that all depends on what you're about to tell me, doesn't it?" He cringed at his choice of words, suddenly realizing how much he sounded like that old and arrogant bastard that still existed inside him. He went on to add, in a more gentle tone of voice, "what is it sweetheart?"
"I...I lied to you. When I told you my adoptive father hadn't been threatening me. He's been doing it a lot lately." She sighed wearily. "It seems like everytime he would call me, and he'd suspect I didn't want to talk to him...he'd start threatening me. Not really threatening to hurt me, just to remind me of..." Her bottom lip trembled with on coming tears, her voice beginning to break, "the things he use to do to me. The way he use to..." Her voice trailed off, suddenly being too overcome with emotion to finish.
He paused in what he was doing, looking down at her in sorrow. His brows stitched together in thought. He wasn't exactly mad at her. It wasn't her fault that her adoptive father had turned into such an abusive asshole. Suddenly, he couldn't help but wonder exactly what else this man had done to her, as terrible as it might be to imagine. He wondered if it was anything like the hell he had been put through when he was growing up. The recollection still made him shudder. He sighed deeply, shaking his head and reaching out with his free hand to take hers, giving it a squeeze. "I wish you would have told me about this sooner. We probably could have prevented this whole thing from ever happening."
She dropped her gaze down to her hands, exhaling sharply. "I'm sorry. Trust me, I'm wishing I had told you sooner," she spoke softly with a sniffle.
He stole a glance down at his feet before releasing her hand, and going back to patch up her wounds. "Well, it's a little late for that now." As he moved to another cut on her face, he noticed the tears that were still sliding down her cheeks, and getting in the way of his work. He paused in what he was doing and exuded a weary sigh, his gaze softening up as he looked into her hopeless eyes. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he brought his hand up once again, brushing her tears away gently with the pad of his thumb. "You need to stop crying sweetheart, otherwise I can't finish what I'm doing. Look, you're vunerable and in a good amount of pain right now, and I sympathize with you, but no one is forcing you to bring up the shattered remains of your past."
Amy nodded her head lightly, allowing him to brush away her tears. "I know, I know. I'm sorry, I'll just shut up now. It's just...sometimes when I get started, I don't know when to stop." She managed another sniffle, blinking back the tears still remaining in her eyes.
Christian shook his head, grabbing a fresh q-tip and twisting the cap off a tube of medicated cream, beginning to apply it to her cuts shortly after. "No need to apologize, we're almost done." For the next few minutes, Amy sat still and did not speak another word as he finished his work. Once he had, he closed up the first-aid kit and got up to throw away the used q-tips. When he came back out into the living area, he saw her sitting at the edge of the couch, still holding the ice to her side but ready to stand up. He stepped towards her. "Do you need some help sweetheart?"
She shook her head, rising to her feet on her own. "No, I can do it." Brushing a few loose strands of hair out of her face, she shuffled towards the bedroom on the left side of the penthouse. His was stationed on the right.
He followed her into her bedroom, making certain that she wouldn't trip over anything and hurt herself as she had almost done earlier. He stayed close behind her as she moved through the shadows of the dimly lit room. The only light came from the living area, and the double floor to ceiling windows hidden behind the white silk curtains. She took the ice off of her side for a moment and stopped at her suitcase--which sat just inside the door on top of a luggage cot--opening it up and rifling through the articles of clothing inside. His brows furrowed inquisitively, wondering what she was looking for.
She looked up at him expectantly. "I need to...get changed for bed."
He nodded his head in understanding, finding it idiotic that he had overlooked that beforehand, but he wasn't about to stick around and stare at her. Not only because he was her father, but because he was also a gentlemen. He'd give her her much needed privacy. "Go right ahead." Turning on his heels, he started back in the opposite direction. While she shut the door to get changed, he occupied himself by grabbing a snack from the well-stocked mini bar. He leaned his larger frame against the wet bar, not exactly sure whether he would turn in early and get some sleep or if he'd wait until she fell asleep and go cruising along the strip.
After a few minutes, a sound drew his attention towards her bedroom. It sounded similiar to a muffled moan. A pang shot through his chest, and without hesitation, he pushed himself away from the bar and strode towards the closed door. He turned the knob on the door, leaving it a jar but not yet peeking his head inside. "Amy? Are you all right?"
For a moment that seemed like an eternity, she didn't respond.
He was tempted to open the door entirely when finally, she replied. "Yeah. It's just my side, it still hurts. I tried to sit down and...it hurt."
He scowled, a somewhat relieved sigh escaping him, having imagined that something worse had happened to her. "Can I come in sweetheart?"
"Yeah."
Without a moments hesitation, he opened the door wider and looked over to see her seated at the head of the bed, already changed and clad in a pair of satin magenta pajamas. He came over to her bedside, placing his hands on her shoulders and peering down at her intently. "Why don't we get you into bed and I'll bring you something for the pain."
She nodded her head gently, rising to her feet carefully and pulling back the covers on the king-sized bed. He noticed her cringe when she sat herself down again, and assured her there was no hurry and she should take her time. Once she was seated, he aided her in slipping the rest of her body in between the sheets until she was lying flat on her back.
He brought the covers up and tucked them in around her snugly, "there you go." He gave her a soft smile. After informing her that he was going to get her pain killers, he exited the room. After obtaining a bottle of water from the mini bar, he returned a few minutes later and urged her to sit up. Once she had taken the medicine, she settled back down in bed. "You should get some sleep now," he told her solemnly.
She sighed in frustration. "I don't know if I can. After all that's happened..." Her voice trailed off.
He scowled. "It's not going to kill you to try, sweetheart. After all you've been through today, you need the rest." He didn't know if it was merely the shadows in the room or his own imagination, but he could have sworn he saw tears begin to well up in her eyes.
"I know your bedroom is all the way on the other side of the penthouse, but...I'm scared to be alone right now. I don't want to be alone. Will you..." She took in a breath to compose herself before she continued. It was evident she was trying hard not to break down and cry again. "Will you stay with me? Until I fall asleep?"
A smile played at the corners of his mouth, nodding his head gently. "Of course," he murmured. The two of them exchanged a small smile before he rounded the bed to the opposite side, settling down beside her shortly after. He turned onto his side, propping his elbow up on the pillow beneath it and leaning his head on his hand. Reaching over, he set his opposite hand on one of her arms that was draped over the comforter, giving it a warm and comforting rub.
She looked up at him with a soft smile. "Thank you. Not just for this, but...for everything. You don't know how much I appreciate what you did for me tonight. Having you here...I haven't felt this safe in a long time."
Those words warmed Christian's heart, much in a way that he hadn't felt in a long time. At least, not since Wilbur. This time, they meant twice as much to him because they were coming from his own child. One, that without him, wouldn't have been given life. Suddenly, he felt whole again. He never thought that she would be able to fill that void in his heart where Wilbur had once been, but as he laid there next to her, he wished he could freeze the moment and keep it with him forever. He smiled softly at her, biting down on his bottom lip to hold back on coming tears. The hand that was on her arm moved down to grasp hers with a gentle squeeze, the pad of his thumb rubbing against the back of her hand. A soft sigh escaped him. "As difficult as it may have been for me to accept in the beginning...I'm glad that you came to me when you did."
"So am I," she murmured. After a brief moment of silence, she followed with a "good night" and shut her eyes.
Leaning in, he placed a paternal kiss to her forehead. "Good night sweetheart."
Christian stepped through the velvet curtained entryway of the Caramel bar and lounge. It was a low-key and spacious lounge with a distinct atmosphere, located on the casino floor of the hotel. The vibe was smooth, clean and sophisticated with rich caramel colored leather couches; lounge layout and custom designed up-lit marble "community table." The ambiance would make anyone immediately want to relax with a fine cigar and an extravagant martini. The lounge's generous seating and ambient lighting allowed Christian to marvel at both the impressive design and the revelers passing through. With two signature opaque marble tables and two oversized community ottomans, it was the ultimate setting for sophisticated lounging. There were also two elevated 42-inch plasma TV screens which were strategically placed above the bar and above the entryway. A Rolling Stone's song was playing over unseen speakers as he entered.
He knew that he probably shouldn't have just left Amy alone back in the hotel room, but he was confident that she would be safe and sound when he returned. After all, she was asleep so she wouldn't even realize he was gone, and let's face it, no one but him would be able to get in anyway. While one part of him had decided against turning in to sleep, another part of him wanted to venture outside of the confides of that room and be alone for a little bit. He knew that he could have easily gotten himself a stiff drink from the bar in the penthouse, but he also needed to be amongst other people. At least for a while. As selfish as it might seem at the moment, a part of him wanted to get his mind off of all responsibilites of fatherhood, and just be free to be back in his usual atmosphere.
"What can I get you?" The tall, rugged, dark brown haired and blue eyed bartender asked Christian, shortly after he took a seat at the back bar.
"Macallan 18."
The bartender nodded his head in approval, "coming right up." He turned away from him to pour his scotch, returning less than a minute later and setting the glass down before him.
Christian thanked the man before bringing the rim of the glass up to his lips, taking a swig. The hard liquor slid down his throat and instantly settled into his system, but he knew that it was going to take more than one drink to get him wasted. Setting the glass back down in front of him, he sighed softly before taking a moment to survey his surroundings. There was a fair amount of other guests in the lounge, but not too many, which surprised him. Especially with it being near one thirty in the morning on a Saturday.
"Is this seat taken?" A husky voice asked.
The voice sounded just over his right shoulder. Turning his head in the direction it had come, he came face-to-face with a trim, petite and tanned blonde. Being a plastic surgeon, he had an eye for beauty and for facial features, but the first initial thing that stood out about this young woman wasn't her flawless beauty. It was the familiarity of her features. She resembled Amy. The only difference between the two young women was their hair color, their complextion, and definitely the tone of their voices. For a long moment, he didn't know what to say or even how to respond. He was too dumbfounded by the similiarity. Finally, a smug smile crossed his face. "Not yet." He nodded towards the bench before taking another swig of his drink.
The Amy look-alike hopped up onto the stool with ease, crossing one leg over the other. She was clad in a short and slinky, low-cut black dress with matching heels. A smirk crossed her face, and it was eerie how much she looked like his daughter when he saw it. "It is now."
A smirk stretched across his own face, and despite how weird it might have been that she resembled his own daughter, he couldn't keep his eyes from traveling over her figure lustfully. He brought his eyes back up to hers. "Can I buy you a drink?"
Her smirk stretched into a genuine smile. "That's awfully sweet of you, thank you." She took notice of the drink that sat before him, tilting her head to one side in consideration. "Anything but scotch. I can't stand the stuff. It reminds me too much of my daddy." She turned her head away as soon as the words left her mouth.
He froze at her choice of words. He didn't know why, but those last words coming from her seemed to spark some sort of emotion in him. Maybe it was the way in which she had phrased them or maybe his mind was still fixated on the events of the night. Either way, he found himself swallowing the huge lump that had taken form in his throat. He cleared his throat with a tight smile. "Then what'll it be sweetheart?"
She turned her body towards him, her ankle rubbing deliberately against the inside of his leg. Leaning towards him slightly, her warm breath caressed his ear. So much so that he instantly became arroused. "I'll have a Sicilian Kiss Martini."
He could feel his temperature suddenly rise, and along with it, so did his heart rate. Was he really becoming sexually arroused over this Amy look-alike? Part of him was a bit disturbed by his overwhelming arrousal, but another part of him wanted to take full advantage of it. Exhaling sharply, that same smug smile appeared on his face. Signaling the bartender, he ordered her drink and turned his attention back on her once the man left to prepare it.
"Thank you," she smiled appreciatively at him.
He returned her smile. "My pleasure." Grabbing his glass, he took another sip of his scotch, keeping his eyes on her the entire time.
The Amy look-alike placed one of her hands on her thigh, and placed the elbow of her opposite arm on the bar. The pink tip of her tongue appeared from her mouth to slide across her lips. "So, what's a tall, dark and handsome man such as yourself looking for tonight? Pleasure or poison?"
He couldn't keep the errection from taking form in his pants. The moment he saw her tongue appear and moisten her lips, he could imagine that same tongue moistening his flesh. His brows arched expectantly. "Well, that really all depends on what you mean by that sweetheart."
"I mean..." She leaned in closer to him. The hand that had been on her thigh was placed on his own thigh, and slowly began inching up towards his crotch. She cooed her next words into his ear, "are you looking for pleasure, daddy?"
He inhaled sharply as he felt her hand snake its way up his thigh, his errection standing on end. As prepared as he was to make a move and return the favor, his arrousal soon evaporated at the word "daddy," bringing him back to reality. He sighed softly, his eyes narrowing slightly. "As tempting as it might be, I think we should put that on hold for the moment." Turning back towards the bar, he took a large gulp of his scotch just as the bartender came back with her drink.
A disappointed sigh escaped the young woman, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see her shake her head. Her hand came away from his thigh, turning to thank the bartender before sipping her drink. She turned her head back to Christian. "So I assume since pleasure isn't on your agenda, you must be drowning out your sorrows with scotch." Her brows furrowed, cocking her head to see his face. "Tell me, what could possibly be troubling a gorgeous man like you? Girlfriend just break-up with you? Wife screwing your best friend?"
He nearly choked on his scotch at her last words. She was certainly one to pry, wasn't she? Then again, he could pry right back. He bit down on his bottom lip, looking back over at her intently. "It's a little more complicated than that, sweetheart, and at the moment, I have no current commitments. Surprised?" A smug smile stretched across his face.
The Amy-look alike took the rock candy swizzle stick from her martini glass, sliding it between her lips and sucking on it slowly, but in a deliberate way to get him to notice; and notice he did. A coy smile appeared on her face. "Maybe a little, but you know..." She paused in her sentence, sliding the swizzle stick further into her mouth and then slowly sliding it out. Her tongue appeared from her mouth once again, sliding over her lips to lick the sweet candy taste off of them. She lowered her tone of voice, reaching out and setting her hand back on his thigh, leaning towards him once again. "A man like yourself doesn't need to work hard...to get laid around here."
He wanted her. Oh God how he wanted her, but having sex with her would probably be as eerie as having sex with his own daughter. While a deeper part of him wanted to explore that fantasy, a bigger part of him was repulsed by it. He held her gaze for a long moment, his conscious pulling him in two different directions. He wouldn't dare take her back to his room. That would not only be rude of him to do with Amy there, but it would probably be twice as weird. However, if he allowed her to take him back to her room, it wouldn't be a problem at all. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook the thoughts out of his head, almost as fast as they'd come. No! He was a father now, and his daughter had to come first...not him. He opened his mouth, ready to turn down her offer when a familiar voice stopped him.
"Jesus, stop being such a God damn prude."
Christian's brows furrowed inquisitively. For a split second, he thought the voice was simply in his head, but as he turned his head to look in the opposite direction of the bar, he came face-to-face with none other than...himself. He blinked back his astonishment. It was a hallucination. It had to be. The scotch was probably making him crazy. Once he got over his surprise, he scoffed and sent a glare his way. "Who the hell are you calling a prude? I am not a God damn prude." He turned his head away from the double, taking a large gulp of his scotch.
"A beautiful woman waltzes up to you at a bar, gets you off within a split second and you're stupid enough to turn her away? You and I both know that classifies you as a prude..." His other self scoffed. "Pussy."
He narrowed his eyes on himself, inhaling sharply when he felt the hand on his thigh moving up towards his crotch. "Incase you haven't noticed, I'm a God damn father now. I have a daughter. I hardly think that sex should be at the top of my list at the moment."
He shook his head in disbelief. "You couldn't be more pathetic. Is this what you've been reduced to? A weak and inhibited excuse for a father? You've been down this road before, and you know damn well where it left you. Save yourself the God damn torture, screw the little bitch, and walk away."
Feeling the Amy look-alike's hand rub against the errection already in his pants, and hearing the harsh words from his own mouth, his temper began rising to the surface. "I can't!" He snapped. Suddenly the thought of screwing his own daughter made his stomach turn. This whole conversation with himself was entirely in his head. He was sure of it by now. If he was actually speaking these words outloud, the young woman beside him would have probably high-tailed it out of there the moment she heard the words, 'I'm a God damn father.' "I'm a different man now!" He guzzled the scotch from his half-empty glass.
"Oh bullshit! You haven't changed, you're just repressed. You proved it tonight when you left the poor girl to fend for herself against her abusive father. Face the cold hard facts..." His double leaned towards him, narrowing his eyes slightly as a smug smile crept across his face, "you would have rather gotten laid to that hot blonde you met at the Effiel Tower."
That did it. Christian slammed the empty glass down onto the bar before him, almost enough to break it in the process, fixing his icy cold gaze on his other self. "Screw you asshole! I'm not the same arrogant and insensitive prick I once was, and if you don't believe it, you can kiss my ass!"
An amused laugh escaped the second Christian, almost as if his own words had been nothing but a joke."Well I would, but seeing as how it's physically impossible for me to kiss my own ass, I'll have to pass." He sat back in his seat, that smug smile remaining.
At this point, Christian was on the verge of exploding, which was a bit pointless considering that he was only angry at himself. Suddenly, he felt that familiar warm breath caressing his right ear, and that familiar husky voice followed.
"I can think of better ways to drown out your sorrows than with a glass of scotch."
He snapped out of his hallucination and turned his head back to the Amy look-alike. Before he had a chance to debate, she grabbed his empty glass and set it out of his reach, "it looks like you've had a little too much already." Leaning closer, the inside of her thigh deliberately rubbed against the inside of his. He inhaled sharply, his heart beginning to pound strongly in his chest as his body temperature rose to the surface. A coy smile crossed her face, setting both of her hands on his thighs and allowing them to travel upwards, over his crotch and up his chest. He swallowed the lump in his throat, suddenly being too overwhelmed with arrousal to pull back. She cooed into his ear once again, "let's go back to my place baby, and I'll make you forget all about that pain you so desperately want to get rid of."
Christian was dumbfounded about his next course of action. He squeezed his eyes shut, and when they came open again, the Amy look-alike no longer held any differences to his own daughter. She was his daughter. He blinked back his astonishment, knowing that it was yet another hallucination. He took in a breath to calm himself, trying to get past the tricks his mind was playing on him, but it only seemed to be getting worse.
"Jesus Christ! Stop being such a God damn pussy and screw her!"
His head whipped around once again to see his double staring back at him, but the second Christian was no longer alone. His own daughter had materialized beside him. He took in a breath to calm himself, subconsciously shooting daggers at his double. "I don't get off screwing my own daughter, asshole!"
"Oh stop denying the inevitable! You've wanted to screw her ever since the day she waltzed into your office. You and I both know how badly you want it." The second Christian turned towards his daughter, grabbing her by the small of her back and urging her towards him. An evil grin spread across his face. He turned his head back to him, his eyes narrowing. "Take her. You know you want her."
"You shut the hell up! I'm not into this incest bullshit!" Christian growled, turning his head away and trying mercilessly to bring himself back to the reality of the moment. He squeezed his eyes shut once again and when he opened them, he no longer saw Amy sitting beside him. He saw her look-alike. He exhaled sharply, somewhat relieved.
Her brows furrowed inquisitively, one of her hands sliding up and down his chest. "What's wrong baby? Don't you want me?"
Suddenly, he heard moaning. Consistent, audible, and pleasurable moaning coming from behind him. Stealing his attention away from the Amy look-alike, he turned his head towards the sound. His stomach lurched and his eyes widened in astonishment at the sight before him.
His double was hunched over the bar, pants down and positioned on top of none other than...Amy. Her lower half was bare and her legs were wrapped around his torso. Their eyes were closed, and both of their faces were filled with pleasure. Amy's chest rose and fell with each heavy breath she took, as the second Christian pumped in and out of her rapidly. His hands were grasping both of her thighs as he thrusted faster and faster inside of her. He turned his head to look over at Christian, a wicked grin on his face. "You want her. Stop denying yourself of a good screw and take it! Take her. You can have her right now if you wanted to. Go up to that room and take her God damn it!"
Christian swallowed hard, suddenly feeling as though he were going to be sick. His head shook slowly from side to side, watching the vulgar scene unfold before his eyes. It was all too much to stomach, especially listening to his daughter's urgent moaning. He could hardly believe he was hearing those words coming from her mouth.
"Oh! Oh! Christian! Yeah! Give it to me daddy! Oh yeah, come on daddy! I'm almost there."
If this were real, he probably would have advised her not to call him "daddy," but then again, he wasn't sick enough to screw his own daughter, and he never would be. Regardless of that fact, this other Christian didn't seem to mind at all. In fact, from the grin still plastered on his face, he was actually enjoying it, which only made things worse than they actually were. He shook his head once again, certain he couldn't take anymore of this. The moaning faded into the background as he turned back in the opposite direction. Bringing both of his hands up, he grasped both of the Amy look-alike's wrists and removed her hands from his chest. He had to practically push the words out of his throat, fixing his gaze on the young woman. "Sorry sweetheart, but I'm really not interested." Reaching under his suit jacket, he fished out his wallet, opening it up and slipping out a few bills to pay for both their drinks. He tossed the cash onto the bar as he rose to his feet.
The Amy look-alike seemed dumbfounded, but it didn't take her long to get over it and turn herself back to the bar, a frustrated sigh escaping her. "Your loss baby, but for what it's worth..." She stole a glance over her shoulder, her eyes trailing over his body once again, "a body like yours is a terrible thing to waste."
A scowl crossed his face as he brushed past her. He had to get the hell out of there now. If he stayed any longer, he could wind up doing something he might regret, either to himself or someone else. Even as he started walking away, that familiar and incriminating voice of his returned, still playing on his last nerves.
"It's hard enough for you to find good pussy in South Beach, but when it's offered to you in Sin City, you'd rather play house with your daughter than get laid. Not a damn thing kept you from sticking your dick out there when you were Wilbur's father! The circumstances haven't changed, asshole. You're just too much of a God damn prude to go back to your old ways."
He scoffed, knowing perfectly well that if he looked back, he'd see himself seated at the bar again, probably with that familiar smug smile on his face. Instead of uttering a reply, he continued on his way. Those last words stayed with him the whole way back to the hotel room, echoing in his mind and reminding him of what a fraud he was. He might as well consider himself simply a man in a mask. Maybe it was the scotch that was causing his mind to play tricks on him, and had caused him to see things back at the bar, but suddenly, he wasn't feeling so confident anymore in his new role as Amy's father.
When he arrived back at the penthouse, he crept towards Amy's bedroom, peeking his head inside to make sure that she was still sleeping soundly. Sure enough, she was sleeping like a baby. Turning back around, he found himself entering the wet bar and pouring himself yet another glass of scotch. He sighed deeply as he leaned his hip against the bar, guzzling it down in a short amount of time. He poured himself another glass, then another. By the time he was finished, he tottered towards his bedroom, undressed and passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.