Page 1 of Sin of Innocence

1

CHRISTINA

I couldn't help but play with the hem of my dress. Dad wouldn't appreciate the shortness or how tightly it hugged my every curve, but he had to understand that I was an adult now. No longer was I the little girl who clung to her father when she was scared.

I wiped the excess lip gloss surrounding the rim of my lips. My gaze was locked in on myself in the mirror as I smiled at the way my dress splendidly enhanced the color of my eyes. Beauty was splurging through me, and I welcomed it with open arms. It wasn’t something I felt very often, but when I did, I cherished every moment of it.

There was once a time when I was younger, where I felt like the most beautiful girl in the world. Back when my mother would compliment me with a kiss on the cheek. It was before I grew older that I realized my mother’s words weren't always so true. It seemed as though with age, came insecurities that sprouted from the looks ofrealwomen, who held the power to make men drop to their knees. I went from loving the body I was born in, to hating every curve, every roll, and every scar.

"Christina," my dad called out.

I quickly turned off the light to my restroom before pulling open the door. My father stood outside with a raised brow as he took in my appearance. Judgement brimmed his features. As I crossed my arms over my chest, I let out a loud exhale. Nothing could prepare me for another long speech from my dad about needing to respect myself.

"I'm taking you to the office with me. I can’t have you looking like…that," he pointed out.

Glancing down at my dress, I couldn’t stop the frown that gently coaxed my lips. "Fine. I guess I will just go put on some jeans or something.”

When he glanced at his watch, gravity forced the corner of his lips further downward.

"No, we don't have time. Matter of fact, we should be leaving now" he sighed. My shoulders fell at his words.

My father always wore a suit to work, so I assumed there was some dress code they were made to follow. The last thing I wanted was to underdress, but with one glance at my father’s face, I knew that I made the wrong decision.

"I could change really qui—"

"Don't worry about it. Let's go," he stated.

My lips parted to debate, but based on the pointed look he gave me, I let it go.

He didn’t bother to wait as he strolled out of the house with me following in tow. We made our way to his old white car. The paint was barely even white anymore from the years of long drives. To prove its old age, the engine held a loud roar when it started up and rust settled around the edges.

The car may have been old and worn, but it was the same car he used to share with my mother before she passed away. It held too many memories of terrible singing and nagging debates to ever let go.

I was thirteen when I said my last goodbyes to my mom. Breast cancer took her life before she could ever witness me graduating high school or getting married. It felt like it was just yesterday when I grasped her cold hand and begged her to keep fighting. I was too young to realize that she had no choice, but if she did, I knew she would do anything in the world to stay.

My father did a great job of trying to replace our small family's loss. For a single dad who had to work twice as hard to raise a teenage daughter, he did amazing. It became the two of us against the world.

I managed to look up into the scattered clouds across the sky as we drove. It did a great job of calming my racing mind. An uneasiness rested in the pit of my stomach at the thought of joining my father at his job for the first time. He always made sure to keep his work life away from his personal life.

One thing my dad failed at keeping from me was his boss, Mr. Mariano. I went from hearing my father tell stories about Mr. Mariano’s cruelty, to hearing about how he paid for my mother’s funeral expenses. His kindness never went unspoken of. My father practically worshipped him, but I’ve always assumed Mr. Mariano’s kindness developed from the pity he felt for our family after losing Mom.

I was nineteen when my father introduced me to the millionaire he worked for, Emanuel Mariano. He was such an attractive man. The thought of him alone was enough to leave my panties damp.

My dad failed to realize that the last thing I needed was a babysitter at such a mature age. After losing my mother, he grew too precautious over losing me too. That was why his boss showed up at my house thinking he would catch a little girl in her pajamas. It was also how we went from talking about college to noticing the bulge in his pants when I purposely bent over to pick up a shoe. That night, I ended up pinned against the wall with his lips hovering over my own. I had never been as turned on by a man, but Emanuel Mariano worked magic on my core.

We didn’t do much, but I wished we had. He was so close to me—so close toenteringme. I was ready to give my full self to him without any worry of the consequences. That whole night, we spent it just looking and wanting—lustingandcraving. Even when I left to play with myself to the thought of him, I didn’t restrain my moans. I wanted him to hear just how badly I desiderated him.

Aside from a few dinners, that night was the last time I had ever seen Mr. Mariano. I was almost jumping in my seat just to look into those crystal eyes of a man I fancied for years.

When we stopped at a red light, my thoughts quickly ran away from me when I noticed a man with a hoodie over his head and sunglasses perched on his nose. I wasn’t sure how he managed to squeeze my heart for a glance that lasted a mere few seconds, but he did. His eyes were intense and I could tell that even without seeing them through the blue holographic lens of his sunglasses. Something about him did a great job at striking fear through my body and holding my lungs to the point that I couldn’t even breathe.

"You okay?" My dad questioned once the light turned green.

I glanced over at him momentarily to catch his eye just before they returned to the road. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"You seem…off. If you're worried about the dress, don't be. I might have overreacted," he sighed, "I just hate to see my little girl growing up."

A smile embraced my lips. "I love you, dad. Forever."

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