Falling For My Ex's Dad (Clarissa and Gabriel)

The bass thumped through the walls of the VIP lounge, loud and chaotic—like the

thoughts swirling in my head. I sat on the leather couch, whiskey glass in hand,

surrounded by bodies moving to the heavy pulse of the music.

Girls were grinding against the poles—shaking their hips, each one doing her best

to earn my attention. The owner had apparently heard I was in the building and

sent in his best—his “favorites,” as he called them. The ones who knew how to

put on a show.

They were barely clothed—skimpy shorts clinging too tightly to their asses,

leaving nothing to the imagination. Long legs, smooth thighs, fully on display.

Sweat glistened on their skin under the flashing lights as they wiggled and moved,

casting flirtatious glances my way, hoping to be the one that got picked.

One of the girls approached my table, her eyes fixed on me, attempting to seduce

me with a gaze that clearly drank in my body. She stopped in front of me, then

bent over, hands grazing the floor, throwing her ass in my face.

But I just sat there.

Watching.

Unaffected.

Detached.

I didn't care for her—or any of them.

How could I?

None of them came close to my woman. None of them even existed in

comparison to her.

And the irony? Sleeping with random strippers was never my thing. Which kind of

defeated the whole damn purpose of being here. I came to forget. To feel nothing.

Instead, I felt a different kind of ache. One that screamed I was completely,

irreversibly screwed.

I tipped the tumbler to my lips and gulped down the whiskey. My alcohol intake

was always in check—precise, like everything else in my life. But tonight?

Tonight, I didn't give a damn.

The first shot did absolutely nothing.

The second—just a slight buzz.

By the third, I felt my chest loosen just a bit. Not enough, but it was something.

And just as I was about to sink further into that desire to drown my thoughts—

I heard it.

A familiar voice.

“Gabriel.”

I turned.

Tina.

She smiled, clearly thrilled to see me, like she'd just spotted her next prize. I

returned it with a faint, barely-there smirk—more out of habit than feeling. Still, I

was silently grateful. A familiar face. A reliable distraction. Maybe her presencenoveldrama

would send the dancers scattering, give them a reason to chase someone who

actually gave a damn. Because I clearly didn't.

“I'll take it from here,” Tina said, flashing the girls a look that could cut glass as

she waved her hand dismissively and slid into the seat beside me.

They pouted but scattered with practiced grace, already searching for their next

mark.

“It's been a while,” she murmured, tilting her head just enough so her breath

brushed my jaw.

“It has,” I replied, telling myself maybe the familiarity of her face—and her body—

might be enough to pull me out of this fog.

“I never thought I'd find you here at The Cave,” she teased, fingers tracing the top

of my thigh. “This place isn't really your scene. I remember you used to call it too

wild... too much chaos for the great Gabriel Storm.”

“I did,” I admitted, my voice rough. “But sometimes a man needs the chaos... just

to remember who the hell he is.”

“Or maybe,” she whispered, her eyes burning with that familiar hunger, “he just

needs the right woman to remind him.”

She pressed her body against mine, waiting for me to make the next move.

“Let's find out if you're right,” I muttered, sliding a hand to her waist and pulling her

into me with more force than I intended. She gasped, then melted, draping her

legs over mine.

“Oh, Gabe... you're all fired up tonight,” she purred, tilting her head, her mouth

inching toward mine.

I stared at her lips, knowing she was about to kiss me.

And I wanted to want it. Hell, I tried to force myself.

But I couldn't.

I pulled back with a sigh, frustrated more with myself than her. “I think we need

more drinks.”

It was a weak distraction, but it gave me a few seconds to breathe. I needed

something—anything—to shake off the heaviness and force myself to get in the

mood.

I raised a hand, signaling the waitress. Tina ordered champagne. I stuck with

scotch.

When the drinks arrived, she wasted no time. A few sips in, and she was moving

with the rhythm, grinding in her seat, casting me sultry glances like she thought

she was drawing me in.

Her body did everything right—perfectly choreographed seduction. But I watched

like a man trapped behind glass.

She tossed her head back, laughing, hands in the air, her energy wild and

untamed. Then she straddled my lap—the kind of move that would've made any

other man weak.

She leaned close again, whispering something slurred in my ear that I could

barely catch. “I'll show you what you've been missing.”

Then she moved against me, her gaze fixed on mine as she ground her hips back

and forth, coaxing a reaction.

But I felt... nothing.

Not even a twitch.

I placed my hands on her hips—not forceful, just firm enough to still her

movement. She blinked down at me, confused.

“Maybe... we should leave,” I murmured.

Her face lit up, thinking she'd won.

But she didn't realize—I wasn't asking her to come home with me because I

wanted her.

I took one last gulp, swallowing the entire drink in one go.

I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

Because the music, the lights, the women—none of it was working.

We stumbled into my house—well, I

stumbled, Tina hovered. Her arm

was firmly wrapped around my

waist like she didn't trust my legs to

function. Fair, considering one of

them kept wobbling like a

misbehaved toddler.

“Are you drunk?” she asked, half-laughing as she closed the door behind us.

“No, I'm not,” I muttered, swatting at the air with one hand and missing entirely.

She raised a brow and adjusted her

grip on me as we moved deeper into

the house. “Gabriel Storm is

wasted?” she asked, half amused,

half surprised. “Never thought I'd live

to see the day.”

I huffed. “You're wrong. I'm always in control.”

“Oh really?” she laughed. “We can both agree that you're drunk. You can barely

walk straight. I'm literally holding you up. If I let go, you'd fall flat on your billionaire

ass.”

“Let me go and see, then.”

She tilted her head, smirking as she

looked me up and down. “You sure

about that? Because I'm literally

holding you up right now. I swear, if I

let go, you'd faceplant into the

marble.”

She shrugged and released me. I took a step. Another. On the third, I staggered

sideways, catching myself on the edge of the hallway stairs.

“See?” she mocked. “Exactly my point.”

“I'm not drunk,” I grunted, straightening. “My coordination's just... contemplative.”

Tina snorted. “Contemplative? That's a new one. Okay, genius, let's test you.”

She stepped back and held up her hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Five,” I answered confidently.

“Hmm. Lucky guess.” She held up three fingers, then quickly added a fourth

before I could answer.

I squinted. “Three. Wait... four? Hold on

She burst into laughter. “Busted. You're most definitely drunk, Gabriel Storm.”

“Never. I'm always under control,” I muttered, turning away and heading up the

hall. “You're the one who's drunk.”

“Nope. Just tipsy. And gorgeous,” she added, following behind me. “Unlike you—

stumbling through your own house.”

Soon, we made it to my bedroom.