Secrets (Lords of the City)

by Alice Ward

  As I sipped my tea, a limo pulled to the curb and Drake emerged from the backseat. His eyes scanned the patio, his lips turning up in a smile when he spotted me at the table.

  “There you are. I got stuck in a meeting. Have you been waiting long?” he asked as he settled in to the chair across from me. He grabbed a drink menu from the table and studied it while I replied.

  “Not long at all,” I assured him with a smile.

  “Great,” he said without looking up at me. Drake leaned back in his seat, stretching as he signaled a gorgeous blonde waitress. “Do you want a drink to go?” he asked me as she approached.

  “Sure, that would be great,” I agreed, taken aback by the strange and sudden distance I felt between us.

  I don’t know why I’m so surprised. I insisted over and over again that we couldn’t be more than friends. He’s being respectful and doing what I asked… which only makes me want him more.

  “How can I help you?” the blonde asked as she reached the table. She rested a hand on the back of Drake’s chair and leaned towards him.

  “I’d like a dry cappuccino and my friend would like another tea, both to go.”

  “Right away, Mr. Waters,” she purred, her voice low and sultry. She eyed him for a long moment, turned away, and wiggled her ass as she walked inside to get our drinks. The moment she stepped into the restaurant, I burst into laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” Drake asked, his brow pinched in confusion.

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice that. Everyone out here saw the way she was throwing herself at you.”

  Drake rolled his eyes. “I guess it takes more than that to catch my attention. You look nice today, Chelsea. I like your hair curly like that. It fits your personality.”

  I instinctively put a hand to my unruly curls. “I’m not quite sure how to take that.”

  “It was a compliment, trust me,” he assured me, looking from my hair to my eyes.

  The café door opened and our waitress stepped outside. She flitted over to our table, tossing her long hair over her shoulder and swaying her hips.

  “Can I get you anything else, Mr. Waters?” she asked, her voice husky.

  Drake met my eye and gave me a mischievous wink. “Darling, do you want anything else?” he asked me.

  I smiled back at him. “No thanks, babe. I’m ready to leave when you are.”

  Drake stood and pulled an Italian leather wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a twenty and passed it to the blonde. “Keep the change,” he said as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. His hand brushed against my bare arm, sending shivers of desire through my body. The waitress shot me an evil scowl before turning and stomping away with her nose in the air.

  “Hope you don’t mind me having a little fun with her,” he said as he steered me towards the limo.

  “It was fine by me,” I assured him. We reached the car and he held the door open for me as I slid across the leather seat. It was my first time in a limousine and I found the atmosphere underwhelming. There wasn’t a television, or a refrigerator, or any of the other features I’d seen in movies. It was just an oversized space with an extra bench seat directly across from us and a glass divider separating us from the driver.

  “I can’t wait to see what you’ve chosen,” Drake said as he took his place beside me. He buckled his seatbelt and I couldn’t help but feel disappointed that he was keeping a respectable distance.

  “Didn’t you read the list I emailed?” I asked. Drake had called me the day before and asked me to narrow our tour down to three buildings and email him the list.

  He shook his head. “No, I forwarded it on to Vince, my driver. I wanted him to know where we were going so he could map out our route beforehand. I didn’t want to read the list and spoil the fun of you showing me the buildings you love.”

  “That was thoughtful. In fact, you’ve done a lot of thoughtful things this week.”

  He waved off the compliment. “I’m happy to host the gala at The Albergo. It’s no problem at all. Consider it my congratulations on your promotion.”

  “You made me look incredibly good to my boss,” I told him as the limo wove its way through the city. I glanced up at a street sign and realized that we were on our way to Saint Patrick’s Cathedral.

  “I have a confession to make,” Drake said with a sheepish grin.

  “What is it?” I asked, nervously fidgeting with the hem of my black Capri pants.

  “Before we met last weekend, I’d never heard of the Manhattan Historical Society,” he admitted.

  I exhaled with relief and smiled at him. “I’m not surprised. We have the smallest museum in New York… and I don’t mean the city, I mean the entire state. But we do a lot of historical preservation work. We also work with a lot of children’s education nonprofits.”

  “I know,” he replied. “I googled it last weekend. Your picture on the website is nice, by the way. I have to say, I was a bit surprised that you’re working in the PR office of a tiny museum when you obviously have loftier ambitions. How did you end up there?”

  “I interned there during my senior year,” I explained. “Piper, my roommate, and I both did. They lost two entry level people in the PR department two weeks before we graduated. Piper and I were already trained and we got along well with everyone, so they offered us the positions.”

  “But your degree is in anthropology, not public relations. Wouldn’t you be happier somewhere else?”

  I shrugged. “To be honest, at the time I was thankful to have any job at all. There aren’t a lot of positions available for people with a bachelor’s in anthropology. I’ll have to get a doctorate to do what I really want to do.”

  “And what is that?” he asked with a cocked eyebrow, seeming to be seriously interested.

  “You have to promise you won’t laugh,” I insisted.

  “I’d never laugh at your dreams, Chelsea,” Drake replied, his voice serious.

  “What I’d really like to do is become a forensic librarian.” I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for his reaction.

  “A what?” he asked, his voice piqued with interest. “Forensic, like crime lab?”

  “Not exactly,” I laughed. “But the same concept. A forensic librarian examines documents and determines when and where they were created. They also interpret, restore, and preserve antique texts.”

  “That sounds…”

  “Boring?” I offered, feeling amused.

  “Not at all,” he assured me quickly. “It sounds fascinating. You’re full of surprises, Chelsea… but this isn’t one of them,” his face broke out in a wide grin as we pulled up in front of the cathedral. “I knew this would be on your list.”

  Drake opened his door, stepped out of the limo, and offered me his hand. He helped me out onto the sidewalk and I wove my fingers through his before he could release me. He pulled my arm close to his body as we stared up at the massive, ancient church.

  “This is one of the best examples of decorated neo gothic architecture in the world,” Drake observed, then looked back down at me. “But I want to hear what you love about it.”

  “I love the rose window and the Tiffany stained glass… and the stone, and the spires. A better question might be what don’t I love about it, which is nothing. It’s just so full of… grandeur.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Drake smiled. “Shall we go inside?”

  “Absolutely.”

  We walked up the church steps, hand in hand, and stepped into the sanctuary. We toured the interior of the church in silence, admiring the award winning Stations of the Cross and the ornately decorated ceiling. We finally returned to the limo, our fingers still entwined.

  “You have fantastic taste, Chelsea. I can’t wait to see what’s next on the list.”

  “Thank you. I’m a bit surprised you didn’t offer your expert opinion on the architecture,” I confessed.

  “The point of today isn’t me talking about what I know.
It’s about you sharing what you love and us getting to know each other better. Also, I hope you don’t mind, but if my favorite building in the city isn’t on your list, I’d like to swing by it before we end our little tour.”

  “That depends. Did you build it?” I teased.

  “No, I didn’t,” he laughed, a smile so genuine my heart squeezed as I watched him. “And that fact will pain me until the day I die.”

  We continued our trip around the city, all the while holding hands and all the while not talking about the fact we were holding hands. Drake was so easy to talk to and so interested in my opinions. Our second stop was the Saint Regent Hotel, followed by the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine. At each destination, Drake asked me what I loved about the building. He listened intently as I described the emotions invoked by the beautiful structures before us and didn’t laugh when I mixed up architectural terms. I found myself lingering inside the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine. I was hesitant to move on to our final stop because I didn’t want the day to end. After our third stroll through the sanctuary, Drake finally led me outside. We walked back to the limo and he leaned against the door instead of opening it.

  “I’m having an amazing time, Chelsea,” he said, gazing into my eyes.

  I took his other hand in mine. “So am I,” I admitted.

  He squeezed my hands. “I don’t want to make the same mistake I did last weekend and come on too strong. I’d very much like to kiss you right now. But if I’ve misinterpreted this,” he said, raising our joined hands, “just tell me and I’ll do my best to snap back into friend mode.”

  I looked him straight in the eyes. “I think I’d very much like to kiss you now too.”

  Drake dropped my hands and raised his to my face. He tenderly caressed my cheeks as he lowered his head to mine. He moved slowly, stoking the fire of anticipation burning through my body. When our lips finally met, the rest of the world seemed to disappear. I savored Drake’s slightly metallic taste and musky, alluring smell. His kisses were soft and his mouth worked slowly, focusing his attention on my top lip and then the bottom. All too soon, he pulled away.

  “Will you have dinner with me tonight, Chelsea?” he asked, his voice the tiniest bit breathless.

  “Yes,” I replied immediately. No hesitation. Not one.

  He shot me his charming smile and then held open the limo door. As I climbed inside, he pulled his phone from his pocket and punched a few buttons.

  “What’s your favorite type of food?” he asked, staring at his screen.

  “I’m pretty easy to please. But I’m a sucker for Italian,” I answered as the limo pulled into traffic.

  “Then Italian it is.” Drake punched a few more buttons and returned the phone to his pocket. “Dinner will be waiting when we finish up our tour,” he told me as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder. I let my head fall to his chest and listened to his heartbeat. It seemed as if only a few minutes had passed when we slowed to a stop at our final destination. I sat up and looked out the window at the Flatiron Building. The building had been constructed at the beginning of the twentieth century, far ahead of its time. Its stone walls and ornate details were true to its old world roots, while its triangular shape and clean lines reminded me of much more modern designs.

  “Are you surprised?” Drake smiled.

  “A little, yes,” I confessed as we stepped out onto the sidewalk. “I expected something more modern. So tell me, what do you love about it?”

  “So much, it’s hard to know where to start.” He smiled. “This building is a perfect example of a visionary’s work. The architect who designed it was nearly laughed out of town before he could break ground. He was told that there was no way such a narrow building would stay standing, that it would be blown down with one strong gust of wind. But he knew better and built it anyway. And it’s still standing today, after so many buildings around it have been demolished.”

  “I never knew that. It makes me like it even more.”

  “I thought it would,” Drake smiled. “I want you to try something for me. Close your eyes and think about the first three buildings we visited.”

  I closed my eyes, wondering where he was going.

  “Think about the rock work at Saint John the Divine and Saint Patrick’s. Imagine the windows of the Regent… and now open your eyes and look at the Flatiron again,” he directed.

  I opened my eyes and stared at the building. I immediately realized the point of the exercise. “I see all of the similarities between this one and the first three. I’d never have noticed if you hadn’t pointed it out.”

  “Do you see anything else?” he pressed.

  “Yes… the lines and angles… they remind me of your work.”

  A wide, proud smile spread across Drake’s face. “This is one of the buildings that made me want to become an architect. I was fascinated by the engineering that proved the naysayers wrong so many decades ago. All of my designs are based around creating aesthetics that shouldn’t be structurally possible.”

  “Like your beach house, with glass walls holding four times their weight of concrete.” I nodded. “The moment I saw that house, I wondered how the hell it was standing. I don’t suppose you could explain that to me?”

  Drake laughed. “All in good time. I can’t give away all of my secrets at once.”

  I turned in his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Just how many secrets do you have?” I teased.

  Instead of answering, Drake leaned down and planted a short, sweet kiss on my lips. “Are you ready for dinner?” he asked as he pulled away.

  “Sure,” I agreed as Drake opened the limo door. “I hope you don’t have anywhere fancy in mind…” I smoothed my oversized white peasant blouse as I settled into the back of the car.

  “Actually, I thought we’d just go to my place, if that’s okay with you? I have a private chef. He makes a great veal marsala, so when you said Italian…”

  “That sounds perfect to me,” I agreed, my heart racing. I’d forgotten that Drake had an apartment in the city. I was a little surprised by how happy I was at the idea of being alone with him. The limo pulled into traffic and a few blocks later, turned left on Fifth Avenue.

  “I didn’t know you’d built anything near the park,” I said, my voice dripping with intrigue. I couldn’t wait to see another of Drake’s designs first hand.

  “I didn’t,” he confessed. “The Central Park penthouse has been in my family for decades.”

  Of course it has.

  I kept forgetting that Drake came from money. He seemed so normal and down to earth. It was hard to remember that he was at the top of the Forbes 100 list.

  “Do you have the whole place to yourself?” I asked hopefully. I was having a great day and the last people I wanted to deal with were Drake’s formidable parents. They had a reputation for being difficult to please and something told me they wouldn’t be thrilled to see me with their son.

  “Yes, the penthouse is all mine. I grew up there, when I wasn’t off at boarding school. You’ll love it. It’s almost completely original.” As he spoke, he used his thumb to trace small, soft circles in my palm.

  “I can’t wait to see it,” I cooed and laid my head against Drake’s chest. As I stared out the window at the amazing neighborhood, I felt like I’d stepped into someone else’s life. In my everyday life, I couldn’t afford to buy coffee at the local shops. But that night, I’d be having dinner in one of Lenox Hill’s most coveted penthouses.

  “Here we are,” Drake announced as the car slowed to a stop. The limo door opened and a uniformed doorman greeted us with a nod. Drake slid out of the car and offered me his hand.

  “Shall we?” He flashed his charming smile.

  I wove my fingers through his and smiled back at him. “Lead the way.”

  ***

  “Drake… this is amazing,” I gasped as we stepped out of the elevator, which opened directly into the penthouse living room. I’d never seen such a beautiful home. The apartme
nt was at least one hundred years old, with solid oak floors, ornate crown moldings, and white tray ceilings that held delicate chandeliers. The walls were painted robin’s egg blue, with antique wall paper under the white chair rail. The simple white leather furniture offered the only modern accents to the room. Huge windows filled one wall, giving spectacular views of an Italian stone terrace.

  “I’ve been tempted to renovate,” Drake confessed as he walked to the antique bar in the corner. “Don’t get me wrong, I love all of the fixtures. But the floor plan is so outdated. The kitchen is hidden away in the back and there’s a huge formal dining room I never use.”

  He poured scotch from a crystal decanter into matching highball glasses. He added a few cubes of ice to each of them and met me near the sofa.

  “I can’t wait to show you the best part,” he said, passing me a glass. “I asked the staff to set dinner up out here.” I followed him to the French doors and we stepped out onto the terrace. The wrought iron railing matched the small bistro table sitting nearby.

  “Good evening, Mr. Waters,” a woman in a white button up shirt and black pants greeted Drake.

  “Good evening, Vanessa. This is Ms. Chelsea Tyler. Is everything on schedule as I requested?” Drake asked as he pulled out my seat. I sat down and took a short sip of my scotch. The liquor burned my throat and filled my body with a welcome warmth.

  “Yes, the first course will be out shortly. I was just about to go to the kitchen and check on it,” Vanessa explained as Drake took the seat across from me.

  “Can I get you anything else to drink, Mr. Waters? Ms. Tyler?” she added as she eyed the doors.

  “Please, call me Chelsea,” I insisted.

  Vanessa shifted her weight nervously and looked at Drake.

  “A bottle of white wine with the first course, please,” he instructed. Vanessa nodded and left the terrace.

  “Did I do something wrong?” I asked, confused by her reaction to my friendly overture. I lifted my glass to my lips as he replied.

  “It’s not a big deal,” he assured me. “It’s just that I maintain a professional relationship with my staff. They don’t refer to me or my guests on a first name basis.”