Systematic Siege Box Set: Parts 1-3

by N. Isabelle Blanco

  “Shush, baby. Let me take you where I want to take you and then I’ll take care of you.”

  I shiver at his words, knowing what they mean now.

  He just smirks at me mischievously before heading to his side of the car.

  22

  “What’s going on here?” Richard Drevlow, while seemingly not as cold and ruthless as his brother had been, is clearly not a man that likes to repeat himself.

  I keep my eyes glued to him because looking at his nephew means certain death for me.

  Even without looking at him, there’s no way I can escape the force of his stare.

  “Leave us,” Andrew tells his uncle.

  Clearly, dominance is a trait that runs in the family.

  Andrew’s uncle actually seems to contemplate that request.

  Silently, my gut tight with dread, I shake my head and beg him with my eyes to stay.

  I underestimated that echo. In fact, it’s not an echo at all. It’s an all-out shriek in my system, this savage, unyielding force rushing hot through my veins.

  Andrew’s mere presence flooded my mind, scratching at dead pieces of me, unearthing a part of me I’d believed long dead.

  I lost the ability to lust after any man the day I ran from him. All I had for so long were the memories of him, that inexorable hold they had on me.

  Then Stephen raped me and I lost all contact with the feminine side of my sexuality. It took me years to work past it enough to try having sex with anyone.

  And when I finally decided to give Paul a chance, I did it for just that: to try. I felt nothing. No interest. No arousal.

  Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  Until a few seconds ago.

  “Andrew, I need to speak with you for a moment.” Richard hasn’t looked away from me.

  “No.” One word. No room for arguments.

  Hands shaking, I straighten in my seat—a false show of resolve. I’m not resolved in any way. I’m ridiculously weak. “I need to get back to work if I’m going to finish the breakdown for the software prototype on time.”

  “No, Lexi. We’re going to talk.” Andrews walks to me.

  I bite down on the urge to bolt from my seat. “You’re already over budget and behind schedule—”

  “Lexi, please.”

  There’s raw, unfiltered desperation in his tone. The kind that can’t be faked.

  I remember Stephen, drunk, belligerent, laughing bitterly. I remember his claim that, in the end, the thing that destroyed Andrew the most was me.

  I didn’t believe that, either.

  Refuse to believe it now.

  I can’t believe it. Just can’t.

  Oh God, this isn’t how this was supposed to go.

  “Mr. Drevlow,” I address Richard, fighting for calm. “I would like to be left alone so that I can work on the coding.” Please, please, get your nephew out of here . . .

  Andrew slams his hand on my desk. I jump with a gasp. “I don’t give a fuck about the coding!” That bellow, as loud as his scream was when he demanded to know where my office is, makes my head snap around.

  Toffee-colored eyes, framed by those heavy, heavy lashes.

  Hunger.

  Insanity.

  A pain so deep that it almost makes a mockery of my own.

  “I waited seven years for you.” His voice breaks, his chest heaving with each breath. “You were all that mattered. You were all that kept me fucking going.” His eyes search mine, and I struggle not to cry. “Talk. To. Me.”

  His uncle tries to get his attention. “Andrew.”

  Andrew doesn’t acknowledge him.

  I can’t . . . I can’t function under that look. If I believe what he says . . . no, Lexi. This man conspired with his friends to ruin me. Just like his father once ruined mine.

  Andrew admitted to the school board that he’d been in on the plan along with his fucking girlfriend Kaylee and his two best friends, Stephen and Barnard. They were all almost kicked out of the school mere days before graduation for what they did to me.

  Maybe this is remorse. Unadulterated guilt. A guilt he’s lived with for almost a decade.

  The thought infuriates me. “Mr. Drevlow, you either walk out of this office right now and leave me to do my work,” my voice shakes with anger,” or I’ll walk out of this building and disappear. And don’t doubt that I can.”

  I’m bluffing. My mom is stuck in that hospital and I no longer have Stephen to help keep me hidden. Please, don’t realize this.

  Andrew’s eyes bounce all over my face, landing on my mouth, growing darker, locking with my eyes again—

  His hand snaps around the back of my neck. “Fine, but not before I remind you of something,” he growls.

  His hot skin on mine. That growl. The violent greed in his stare.

  Another gasp leaves me—a needy exhale.

  Groaning, Andrew pulls me to him and fits his lips over my own.

  23

  After driving for about twenty minutes, Drew pulls off onto the side of the road. On our left, across the road, is nothing but thick woods.

  On our right, it’s all open field, as far as the eye can see. And above that? Stars. Nothing but stars.

  It’s breathtaking.

  Drew turns off the ignition. I turn away from the view outside. He’s watching me in the dark, his face highlighted by the headlights.

  My throat tightens at the way he stares at me. He’s completely focused, barely blinking. His eyes bore into mine.

  I remember that look. He gave it to me when I kissed the corner of his mouth.

  Right before he devoured my own.

  “Drew?” My tone is low. Hungry.

  God, how can I convince him to take me right here?

  He pops his jaw, shifting restlessly in his seat. His hand reaches for mine, but he pulls back at the last second, curling it into a fist. “Come.” He exits the car in a hurry.

  I follow him, disappointed. He gets the bags out of the back and opens the trunk to remove what seems to be a folded blanket. I stand here, watching him the whole time, hands tightly intertwined because all I want to do is reach out to him.

  And I can’t.

  I don’t have the guts to do so. Don’t know why, but he seems closed off right now, and I don’t know how to approach him.

  Drew comes around the side toward me. “Let’s go.” He motions with his head toward the open field.

  “Let me help you with that.” I reach my hand out to help him with one of the bags.

  The corner of his mouth tilts up in a tender smile. “Here, baby. Just carry this.” He holds out the folded blanket.

  Smiling at him, I take it, then follow him onto the grass. We don’t go far. Drew left the headlights of the car on, and I suspect he wants us close enough to their glow.

  He stops. Placing the bags on the ground, he takes the blanket and spreads it out for us.

  We sit together and he reaches into the bags. First, he brings out one of those cheese and crackers party platters. Next he brings out two bottles of wine, one red and one white. He gives me a rueful smile as he brings out two clear plastic cups. “If it was up to me, we’d be sitting in a really nice place, drinking out of real glasses.”

  I shake my head, my heart in my throat. “This is perfect.” It’s impromptu, but no one has ever done anything this sweet for me before. “Thank you so much, Drew.”

  He pauses in the middle of uncorking one of the bottles, eyeing me with that expression that makes me ache in my chest.

  Between my legs.

  Christ, my brain’s hurting as I stare at him.

  “Lexi, baby. This is nothing. I plan to give you everything.”

  “Oh, God. Drew. I—” I love you. I love you so damn much and I need you to feel the same way. Because if you don’t, it’s going to ruin me.

  Drew leans toward me, pinning me with his gaze. “You what, Lexi?” There’s an urgency in his quiet tone, an inexorable demand.

  He wants my answer an
d he wants it to be nothing but the truth.

  I can’t give him that. I’m too afraid. “I’m just . . . I’m just really grateful.”

  Expression soft, he leans over and kisses my cheek.

  Exhaling roughly, I turn my head. The corner of my mouth skims along the corner of his. I don’t try to move away, but Drew fists my hair regardless, forcing me to stay where I am.

  Just like at the gym.

  My lips part with a whimper.

  Groaning, he tilts his head, letting our lips skim each other.

  A whisper of a touch.

  Nothing but a tease.

  I mouth his name against his lips, my chest racing too fast to form coherent words.

  “Lexi.” He drags his teeth across my bottom lip, sucks on it a little, hungry sounds echoing in the back of his throat.

  Shaking, I open my mouth to tell him that I want him to take me. I want him to be my first, and I want it to happen now.

  He makes a strained noise, what sounds almost like a broken “no” and puts distance between us. His hands tremble as he uncorks the wine bottle and opens the cheese and crackers tray.

  I swallow another round of disappointment—until Drew hands me a cup and says, “You see those stars up there? I’ve been thinking of showing you this view for a long time, baby. As long as I’ve been dreaming of making you my girl. So let’s take it easy for a bit, ‘K?”

  24

  I haven’t fully caught my breath since I walked into the office of that gym and saw Drew’s facial expression.

  And he just keeps on taking my breath away, over and over.

  Emotion clogs my throat, all the things I feel for him fighting to make themselves known. I nod at him instead of speaking, fear a tight band around my chest.

  I love him. I love him too much, but I can’t tell him that yet.

  Drew’s lips stretch into a devastating smile. “That’s my girl.”

  I’m going to explode. No way my body can contain this much emotion.

  He holds out the cheese tray to me. I take it with my free hand while he pours himself some wine.

  “I’ve never drank before,” I confess.

  He places the bottle on the grass besides the blanket and leans back on his elbow. His toffee-colored eyes twinkle with amusement. “You’ve never drank any type of alcohol before?”

  I shake my head.

  His smile is full of disbelief. “At all?”

  Holding back a smile, I shake my head again. “Don’t make fun of me.” My face heats up and I’m grateful I’m facing opposite the car’s headlights. I’m inexperienced in every way, nothing like the girls he’s used to.

  The last thing I want is him seeing me blush like some innocent little girl.

  That sexy smile on his face turns tender, like he finds it adorable I’ve never drank before, and I can’t help but bristle.

  Without thinking about it, I decide to throw back a mouthful of wine.

  It’s dry. Like, really, really dry, and I’m unprepared. Clapping my lips shut, I try not to cough, or let the tears building in my eyes leak out. Eyeliner trails aren’t cute.

  Drew tugs lightly on my earlobe. “Easy, baby. Especially the first time.”

  A small cough escapes; I glare at him. “I’m not sure I like this one. It’s—” I cough again and cover my mouth before continuing. “—really dry.”

  “Sorry.” He takes the cup from me and hurries to pour me some white wine instead. “Here. Just a little. Try it. Slowly.”

  I raise the cup to my lips, careful not to chug it back this time.

  Drew watches my mouth as I tentatively take another sip, the intensity in his eyes almost frightening.

  I barely taste the wine. My lungs feel like they’re going to burst from lack of oxygen. Even so, I can’t stop staring at him while he stares hungrily at my mouth.

  “Does that one taste better?” he asks, voice gruff.

  “I don’t know,” I whisper back, not caring about the wine one bit. What I really want is to taste his lips again.

  “Have another taste, then.”

  Oh God, that tone. It’s getting lower, rougher, almost dangerous.

  I clench my thighs together and lift the cup to my lips again. Somehow, I manage to take my time, hold the wine in my mouth long enough to actually process it.

  He watches like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen—like he’d rather be watching nothing but me.

  He makes me nervous and I’m only drinking wine!

  “So?” His eyebrows rise, but his eyes don’t move one bit. The way he stares at my lips fills me with wanting.

  I don’t think I’m going to be able to restrain myself much longer; I want to kiss him again so badly. Staring at his lips, I lick my own, wondering how he’ll react if I just grab his face and kiss him.

  “Baby?”

  Fuck, I shiver every time he calls me that. He makes me feel absolutely crazy. “It’s good . . . sweeter.”

  “Good.” He gives me his cocky, happy smile, pleased at himself for picking out a wine I like. “Now we’re going to catch up.”

  The buzz in my veins grows stronger, morphing from excitement to anxiety. I don’t know why. Maybe because my life isn’t anywhere near as interesting as his is.

  I rather speak about what goes on in his life rather than what goes on in mine.

  I shift nervously. “What do you mean catch up?” He won’t stop watching me. Is he even blinking?

  “I want to know everything, Lexi. Everything you’ve been up to these last eight years.”

  My heart beats harder. Talking to him about this makes me uncomfortable.

  And then he asks me the one question I really don’t want to answer.

  The one question sure to bring up the darkness that stands between us.

  “How’s your mom doing?”

  25

  Drew’s father once worked with my father. To be more exact, my father was hired to work at Drevlow Systems, Inc, thirteen years ago.

  A huge achievement. Just what we needed at the time to give us a better life.

  The pay would also allow him to work less hours, have more time to develop his prototype.

  And he did. ‘Til this day, I have no idea what he built, but it was his life’s dream. The thing he wanted most out of life.

  Ronald Drevlow found out about it, decided he wanted the prototype so he could make money off of it. My father refused. It was his invention.

  No one refuses Ronald Drevlow anything. Over a period of three years, he systematically terrorized my father, broke our lives apart bit by bit, until there was nothing left.

  My father had no choice but to sell the prototype to Mr. Drevlow.

  My mother didn’t find out about it until shortly after my father’s death.

  He killed himself and left us every dollar he’d gotten on the sale as part of our inheritance.

  I was ten years old. That same week, my mother urged me to stop speaking to my best friend, the son of the man that ruined our lives.

  Of course, I refused.

  That is, until I realized that Drew had distanced himself from me.

  He hadn’t died like my father did, but losing him hurt almost as much.

  “You don’t want to talk about her with me, do you?” There’s sadness in Drew’s eyes, but also understanding.

  It’s not his fault what his father did. But I have to ask him the one thing that’s been eating at me for almost eight years. “Why did you stop talking to me when your father told you to?” He never let me know that, yet I know his father had something to do with it.

  If my mother asked me to stop talking to him, there’s no way his father didn’t ask the same of him.

  Drew runs his hand across the top of his head, back and forth in an agitated manner.

  This is a wound between us that neither of us wanted to explore.

  He opened the door to this discussion by asking about my mom.

  “My father—” He sto
ps abruptly and looks out into the dark field in front of us. “He warned me that if I didn’t stop talking to you, he’d go after you and your mom since he was done with your father.”

  Anger vibrates through him. His lips are tense with strain, and his free hand clenches and unclenches. He throws back the rest of his wine and refills his cup before looking at me. “I was ten, and . . .”

  I place my hand over his; immediately, he turns his hand and intertwines our fingers. “I get it.” I really do. He was just a boy and his father is a scary as hell son of a bitch.

  I wish I could say his bark is bigger than his bite, but it’s not. The man has no qualms about destroying people.

  Drew lowers his wine and cups my face.

  I can’t control my reaction, and nuzzle his palm, soaking in the feel of his skin.

  His eyes plead with me for a forgiveness I’ve already given him. “Lexi, I was scared out of my fucking mind he’d make good on his threat. And then time passed, and we’d already grown apart, you know.”

  “I know.” I stare at our hands, my heart aching from the memory of those years.

  My mom never told me why we stayed in town, why she used the money my father left us to keep me in the same private schools as Drew.

  Yeah. Thanks to that inheritance, we’re well off.

  Not that it changes anything.

  Things got hard for us regardless. My father’s death altered us in a twisted way. My mother was never the same again.

  And I . . . sometimes I don’t recognize myself in the anger I keep trapped inside me. It makes me want to do things. Things I know for a fact I shouldn’t.

  I love Drew, but I’d have no problem ending his father’s life if I could.

  What type of person does that make me?

  “Drew . . .” The fear is back, making it hard to speak. I don’t want to voice the question going through my mind, but how could I not? “How are we supposed to make this work between us? Let’s be realistic here. I don’t think—I . . .” I let go of his hand to cover my face. “We can’t.”

  26