“I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. If it was your mother and she wanted to reconnect, why go through all that rigmarole? Why not just be straightforward about it?”
My shoulders sagged as I gave a little shrug. Who knew what ran through that woman’s mind, the woman who gave birth to me and then abandoned me. “I just know it wasn’t a coincidence that she showed up that day outside Fortnum’s. She knew I was going to be there. Somehow.”
“I wish you’d told me this sooner. I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I don’t like her sniffing around and especially not around our kids. She doesn’t sound stable at all.”
I kept quiet at that. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn’t. But what did that make me? If Drake knew how unhinged I’d been feeling the last few weeks would he have the same attitude toward me? Would he want me as far away from our children as possible? Locked up somewhere safe for my own good?
Drake’s phone rang again and he had the courtesy to wince. “Sorry, I have to get that. I told them to call back only if they really needed me.”
On the lounger as the first few pinpricks of stars began to peek through the darkening sky I stayed outside and hoped he’d get rid of whomever was on the phone so we could continue talking and spending time together. It’d felt like an age since we’d actually had a real conversation. One without interruptions. But I had hoped for too much once again. We may have left London for a break, but Drake wasn’t able to leave it behind. He was still chained to his phone, a slave to it. He hadn’t changed and I didn’t know how I felt about that anymore.
After half an hour of waiting in the increasing cold I got up and padded back into the house. I could hear the low mumble of a one-sided conversation down the hall where Drake’s temporary office was located. The door was almost shut, a sliver of warm light from inside the room was bleeding outward. It sounded like the call was no where near close to ending.
That night could’ve gone so differently. I thought when he said we’d go away for a break that it would really mean the two of us together, reconnecting, and taking time to heal.
But I went to bed alone. Though it’s not as if I’m not used to it, I thought. I’d spent weeks alone at night, wondering if he’d ever make an appearance and want to stay the night. But Drake had never, not once, since the baby and I had come back from the hospital attempted to come into my old room back at the apartment and sleep in the same bed as me. And it wasn’t as if I was expecting us to make love again right away after the baby; I don’t think I, or my body for that matter, was ready for that. Yet being held, having someone else cuddled up to me was something I was really starting to miss. And the longer it went on the worse I began to feel. We were growing apart. The spiralling thoughts that went with the pain of missing him, started to creep in even more. There must have been a reason why he’d decided to stay away. Of course, I presumed the worst. It was only natural. And yes, maybe he wasn’t having an affair, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t have gone off me.
Perhaps he had come to his senses, realised what a huge and dangerous mistake we’d made by staying together. I was his stepsister after all. What we’d done in the first place had been madness. But we’d gotten pregnant and then maybe he felt there was no going back? And then because of that we’d had something to prove. We had to prove that our love was real.
What if it wasn’t?
What if Drake had only stayed with me out of some weird sense of duty?
And now after having the baby, he was rethinking everything.
The next morning I turned over and looked to the other side of the bed. It was empty.
The bedclothes were still draped over his side and the pillow had no indentation. So it was clear he hadn’t slept in the same bed.
I carefully swung myself out of bed and got up, stretching my body slowly. Outside I could barely figure out where the sea was. A shroud of morning fog was blanketing the rocks and all I could see were dark smudges. I wanted to disappear into that mist and never come back.
“Hey, you’re up. Good, I brought you some breakfast.” Drake came into the room holding a tray full of breakfast items.
I didn’t smile. It was just another reminder that he hadn’t been there that morning when I’d woken up.
“Vi? What’s wrong?”
“Where did you sleep last night?” I asked before I could chicken out. He was either going to lie to me, or give me an excuse. I staked my bet on the latter.
“Downstairs. Why?” he said and placed the tray on the end of the bed. “I didn’t get done until late and I didn’t want to wake you up.”
And there was the excuse.
I turned back toward the window and stared out into the white cloudy nothingness. I was going to leave it. I wasn’t going to say anymore. Maybe he had worked until the small hours of the morning, and was telling the truth, but then I realised I couldn’t live with the doubt any longer.
“Why don’t you want to sleep in the same room as me anymore?” I asked, my voice surprisingly even and controlled.
“Vi, where is this coming from?”
“Just answer the question,” I said with a sigh. “Let’s be honest with each other shall we? There’s no point pretending that there isn’t something wrong.”
“I am being honest with you. I had to work. You know how hard I have to work. It takes hours of dedication to get where I am. You know, the money doesn’t actually grow on trees.”
“I know it doesn’t. But surely you have enough money to relax once in a while… to stop working for a bit. You don’t need to work. I think you want to work and you’re throwing yourself into it even more because you don’t want to be anywhere near me.”
“Are we really going to have this fight again?”
“Yes, if you don’t answer the question. I thought this weekend was going to be for us. So we could talk. We could’ve just stayed home if I’d known you were going to be working twenty-four-seven. There wouldn’t have been a difference! So yes, we are going to fight!”
“I don’t know what you want me to say. Everything I say or do is completely wrong. I’m not a mindreader, Vi. You have to tell me what you want in order for me to know!”
“I shouldn’t have to… you’re my husband, you should at least have some initiative of your own.”
“Is that what you want?”
I gave him a little shrug. I wasn’t going to prompt him anymore.
“Fuck’s sake,” he said and rubbed his face. He dropped his hands. “You want fucking initiative?” He stalked toward me, his fingers slipping and hooking around my neck. Holding me, bringing me closer. Drake’s grey eyes were blazing with hard fire, cold and yet hot all at the same time. Piercing and unyielding. Then his mouth came crashing down. He stole my breath. His tongue slipped in, exploring with an unstoppable fury, like he wanted to consume me whole.
I kissed him back and thread my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Walking me back, he had me up against the cold window. The V of my dressing gown gaped open and though he’d seen it all before, he hadn’t truly seen my broken body after the caesarean. He hadn’t seen the nasty red scar that even I couldn’t bear to look at. His fingers traced their way down my neck to my collarbone, easing the edge of the fabric aside even more, and his mouth followed suit, trailing after his fingers. Kissing my skin and leaving a scorching trail.
His lips reached my cleavage that was still covered. And over the fabric his hands cupped my bra. I didn’t know whether he was conscious of how tender they were but he was gentle, even though he had surprised me.
I whimpered as he delved lower but as he started tugging on the satin belt around my waist a sudden inexplicable feeling of panic buzzed through my body. I couldn’t… it didn’t matter how much I wanted him, my body and my mind were refusing to cooperate.
“Drake,” I whispered, hoping I didn’t have to say the word.
The knot was nearly untied, soon he would see everything.
; “Drake, stop.” I wrapped my fingers around his wrist urging him to slow down, to not go any further.
He looked up from his task, a question in his eyes. More than that, puzzlement. I’d never stopped him before. Why now?
“It won’t come undone,” he said, perhaps thinking I was telling him to stop so that I could undo the belt myself.
“No. I’m sorry. I can’t.”
I saw him take a long breath, then slowly let it out again before he said anything. He was probably mad. I’d practically asked for this and then stopped him just as it was getting good. It was a slap in the face.
He stepped back and broke the connection, my hands swinging back to my sides. “Okay,” he simply said. He was at the door now turning to leave. “Just know I’m not going to keep playing these mind games, Vi. There’s only so much I can take.”
Drake disappeared and I hastily rewrapped my battered body in the flimsy, satin dressing gown. Wishing I hadn’t put it on that morning. It’d been a mistake, and now I’d just made everything worse.
Chapter Thirteen
“How was it?” Sigrid asked as we trundled down the corridor, greeting us. She was dressed down in a comfortable T-shirt and a pair of navy blue leggings, thick socks on her feet, and her hair up in a messy bun. And she still looked stunning.
Drake ignored her, went straight past. She gave me a look then we heard a door slam. I winced.
“That good, huh?” Sigrid asked her eyes full of questions.
“It could’ve been better. But I don’t know why he’s being so pissy. He was on the phone practically the whole time we were there. Bloody glued to his ear, it is.”
“Come in and tell me all about it. I just opened a bottle of wine. Didn’t expect you both home so soon, to be honest. I was going to do the whole single-woman-night-in thing: wine and a movie.”
“Are the kids in bed?”
She nodded. “Yeah the baby went down no problem. Leah though, took me five readings of that purple book she likes.” I nodded knowingly as we wandered into the kitchen.
“Thank you for looking after them.”
“It was actually kinda fun after the baby stopped crying.”
“God, we really need to name him. We can’t keep calling him the baby.”
“Yeah, otherwise Bug-Bug is going to stick. You should go get Drake now and figure it out. You know before he decides to go back to the office.”
I snorted, thinking it was the last thing I wanted to do. He’d been giving me the silent treatment for over a day now. But it was a good idea to confront him while there was someone else in the apartment. At least then he still had to be civil.
“Maybe after some Dutch courage.”
Sigrid poured me a glass and pushed it toward me. “Are you okay to drink that?” she asked cautiously.
“Yes, I should be fine. They’ve lowered my dosage. I’ll just have the one glass.”
We relocated back into the living room and squashed down onto the couch talking in hushed tones.
“So are you going to tell me what all that was about?”
My hand scooped up a pillow and I hugged it and sighed. “I may have led him on then rejected him.”
Her eyes widened with interest but she stayed quiet.
“I practically dared him to do something, anything. And well we started kissing,” I said leaning closer to her and whispering.
“And?”
“Then I fucked up.”
“I bet you didn’t.”
“No, I really did. I told him to stop, told him I couldn’t. And he’s been giving me the silent treatment since.”
“Okay, but why did you stop?”
“You my therapist now?” I retorted.
She smile, “No, but I am your friend and I think you need to tell someone what’s going on inside that head of yours. You haven’t been the same for a long while now.”
“You think?”
Sigrid nodded. “So, why did you stop?” she asked again.
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“That’s bullshit.” She took a sip of the white wine then lowered her glass to a side table. Her back straightened and she turned to face me, cross-legged on the couch. “Tell me.”
I gave a half-hearted shrug and swallowed. “I’m scared.”
For an unexplainable reason my eyes began to fill up with tears. I could feel them threatening to spill over. She reached for my glass and put it down on the same side table then took my hands. That little action, a physical offering of support, had the silent tears rolling down my cheeks.
“What are you scared of, hun?” she asked softly.
“Everything? Nothing?”
I shook my head. It was hard to pinpoint the exact reason. They all seemed to blend into one huge mess.
“It sounds crazy but my body doesn’t feel like mine. It’s like I’ve been transplanted into a useless carcass. And the thought of him seeing me like that. God, he would run for the hills. I’m not ready for that. And maybe I’m just not ready, period. My head is a jumble.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“Hell no! Are you insane?”
She tutted and shook her head. “I think you should tell him exactly what you just told me.”
“You are insane. Like he would listen to me anyway. He’s either at work, or on the phone to work. He doesn’t have time for me, Sigrid. Not anymore, he’s made that perfectly clear.”
She smiled weakly. “Oh, hun. You’ve got it all wrong. He’s scared, too.”
“What do you mean?”
Sigrid put up her hands in surrender, or defence. “You have to talk to him.”
“Some help you are,” I said in jest. I knew she was right though. We really did need to have a proper talk. We needed to get past this somehow. Otherwise what if it was truly over? What if this was the end of us?
Had sleeping with my stepbrother turned out to be the worst thing I could’ve done? I didn’t want to believe that, not when it had felt so right.
“Okay, I’ll talk to him.”
“Tonight?”
I smiled, “Sure. Tonight. You don’t give up, huh?”
“Nope. Not when it involves my two favourite people.” She nodded to herself. “I’ll get out of your hair and give you some privacy.”
“Okay,” I said again, resigning myself for battle.
Sigrid stood up and drained the last of the wine in her glass, proceeded to gather up her weekend bag from the spare room, gave me a peck on the cheek then left.
I stood in the foyer trying to figure out my next move. First thing on the list, we needed to name the baby. It had gone on too long. And if Drake didn’t want to help me decide then I would do it for the both of us. He would just have to live my decision.
Okay, I can do this, I thought and tried to summon up some courage. My fist was about to bang on Drake’s bedroom door, when I halted mind swing.
That was my bedroom, too. I didn’t need to knock on my own fucking bedroom door.
With my decision made and courage levels topped up I swung the door open expecting him to be on the bed, laptop in front of him, working away. But the bed was empty and the room was cast in shadow. There was only one of the bedsides table lights on, struggling to illuminate the vast room.
In the distance, muffled behind two closed doors I heard the shower running. I had two choices wait for him to come out or strike while the iron was hot and confront him while he was at a bit of a disadvantage.
I chose the latter option and crept to the bathroom. I didn’t know why I felt the need to be quiet, to sneak up on him, it was just instinctive.
The bathroom door was only partially closed and small puffs of steam escaped. I put my face to the crack and saw through the translucent clouds that he was still under the large shower. Over the sound of the constant crash of water beating down onto him and the tiles, cascading down his perfect body I heard him moan.
At first I couldn’t quite place the sound, was he hurting? In pai
n? Crying? I risked opening the door a little farther. It seemed like an age since I’d last seen him naked, and it still took my breath away. He could’ve been an artist’s sketch; each muscle, limb, and feature etched onto thick paper, each stroke perfection. And if I didn’t know better he looked more defined than ever. He’d lost weight and toned up even more. His biceps popped and his thigh muscles bulged. I wondered how he found the time to keep in shape, but then I remember the fully fitted gym that was installed in his office building.
It was then as I studied him, letting my eyes wander all over him, that I noticed his hand moving slowly back and forth. The moan got louder and an involuntary blush graced my cheeks as I realised what he was doing.
Up and down he tugged on his cock. His head tilted back and he started to increase the pace.
I wanted to keep watching. But knew I shouldn’t. Knew I should just back away and wait for him to finish.
But those cowardly thoughts were pushed to the side as I asked myself what would the old me do? I slipped off my ballet flats and silently padded into the wet room behind Drake.
The sound of the water covered my approach and soon as I was right behind him, gazing at his broad rippling back. I reached out to touch him then snapped my hand back.
Drake moaned and leaned forward, bracing himself with one hand against the wall. The spray began to hit me, bouncing off his skin and onto my clothes. Droplets started to cling to my hair too as my shirt soaked up every drop.
Boldness took over as my T-shirt became see-through.
My hands fell onto his waist and I skirted them around to Drake’s front. His head snapped to the side and he caught a glimpse of me over his shoulder.
He didn’t say a word.
Before I could chicken out I wrapped my hand around his, wanting to take over. For a beat I thought he wasn’t going to let me. But then he released his hold and I had full control.
Loving my Billionaire Stepbrother's Baby Page 9