Drake (The Powers That Be, Book 5)

by Harper Bentley

  “Can I get you some dolmades too?” I asked, actually kind of getting a kick out of watching his head come up and seeing the shock on his face when he saw it was me.

  “Honor,” he said pushing his chair back and standing. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Oh, just having that exciting time we talked about earlier,” I replied, proud of myself for keeping my voice from shaking.

  We stood looking at each other for a few seconds until I raised my eyebrows darting my eyes to his date then back to him.

  “Oh. Uh, Honor Justice, this is Cha—”

  “Chanel Chadwick,” I finished for him, glancing down at her and faux smiling. “I’m a big fan,” I added insincerely.

  She looked me up and down, apparently unimpressed as she uttered, “Oh, really?”

  Turning back to Drake, I waited for his explanation, again proud of the indifference I was displaying. And viva la fucking Ouzo.

  He leaned down to me and said low, “It’s not what you think.”

  “It’s not? You’re not having dinner with a runway model? I mean,” I poked him in the chest, “I’m sure you’re going to eat.” I next looked down at Chanel. “But you probably won’t. Or can’t. Or if you do, I’m willing to bet that tzatziki will be making an appearance in Ladies Restroom Stall Number Three in the next thirty minutes. Am I right?” I gave her another fake smile as she narrowed her eyes at me.

  “Honor, stop,” Drake warned.

  My head snapped up so fast, I saw him flinch. “Don’t you fucking tell me to stop,” I hissed, my anger clearly guiding me now. “Don’t fucking tell me anything ever again.” Grabbing his glass of what I hoped was water from the table, I threw it in his face. When I realized it was Ouzo, I snorted. “Ouzo for the fucking win.” I looked at Krystal. “Ready?”

  “Absolutely,” she said, giving them both a hard glower before hooking her arm in mine and pulling me with her.

  Ignoring not only the hubbub that was going on behind us since Drake’s waiter had rushed up with a towel to help him clean up, but also the stares of the other patrons, I mumbled, “Guess we won’t be welcome back here again, huh?”

  Krystal laughed. “It wasn’t that good anyway. I’ve had way better…at Petra downtown!” she said loudly enough so the wait staff and host could hear not to mention the customers waiting to be seated. We didn’t even try to contain our giggles at the staff’s gasps as we made our way outside where she handed the valet her ticket.

  “Did Chanel seem like a snob?” I asked Krystal as we waited on her car. “She seemed snobby.”

  She huffed out a laugh. “Definitely.”

  “And what do you think Drake meant by it wasn’t what I thought?”

  Her car appeared and we got in.

  “I don’t know. He can explain later,” she replied putting her seatbelt on. “But he so deserved all of that,” she added as we drove off.

  My anger high was waning and I started feeling drowsy. Resting my head back against the seat I revealed, “You know, I don’t even feel bad.”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  “Gonna buy me a case of that stuff and stay drunk all the time ‘cause I have no fucks to give at all right now.”

  She chuckled. “Now there’s a plan.”

  “Yeah, well, it sure beats the hell out of crying,” I muttered, closing my eyes.

  “You’re coming home with me so you’re not alone,” she stated.

  “Sometimes it’s better to be alone…”

  “On,” she mildly scolded my using a Megara line.

  “That way nobody can hurt you,” I paraphrased before drifting off.

  Chapter 16

  “Ouzo is the devil,” I mumbled the next morning. I’d put my phone on speaker when Krystal called. I was still in bed and lay on my stomach with a pillow over my head to block any sunlight that might’ve even thought about coming in through my blinds, my phone under the pillow with me.

  “So I need to cancel the case of it I ordered for you?” she retorted.

  I tried rolling my eyes but stopped because it hurt too much. “I’m never drinking again.”

  “It’s my fault. I made you drink both times,” she confessed.

  “You’re a bad influence.”

  She chuckled. “You’re just figuring this out after ten years?”

  I let out a grumble as I pulled the pillow down more tightly. “How’d I get home?” I asked.

  “You don’t remember telling me we wouldn’t be best friends anymore if I didn’t take you home?”

  “God,” I groaned. “Now we know Ouzo makes me bitchy.”

  She chuckled. “Apparently. So, have you heard from Drake?”

  “Ugh. I don’t want to talk about it this early,” I whined.

  “On, it’s eleven-thirty.”

  “That’s like five a.m. in alcohol time,” I groused.

  But I knew he’d tried contacting me. He’d called five times and texted ten. I was also fairly sure he’d even come by the house this morning, but I’d felt like crap—and knew I definitely looked it—and hadn’t answered the door which was when I’d checked my phone to see the missed calls and texts.

  When I told Krystal this, she said, “You are gonna talk to him, right?”

  “Yes. When I don’t feel like dog shit.”

  “Okay. Let me know how it goes.”

  “I will. Thanks for getting my drunk ass home.”

  “You’d do the same for me.”

  “I would and have,” I said snorting then letting out a groan.

  “Call me later.”

  After hanging up, I slept for another hour, my poor body and brain needing to recover from two freaking nights in a row of consuming liquor. Yuck. When I finally got up, I showered, ate some toast, drank what was probably the equivalent of a gallon of water and felt much better.

  Then it was time to face the music. Ergh.

  Grabbing my phone, I saw I had a missed call from Drake just after 11 last night—and four others this morning—and even though I’d seen his text messages earlier I hadn’t exactly been sober enough to read them which I now decided to do.

  Text Message—Sat, Mar 19, 11:09 p.m.

  Drake: Answer your phone

  Drake: Honor, pick up

  Drake: It’s not what you think

  Drake: Fuck! Call me

  Text Message—Sun, Mar 20, 6:09 a.m.

  Drake: I’m coming by

  Drake: Answer your door

  Drake: Honor

  Drake: Call me later

  Drake: I’m at the garage if you wanna come by

  Drake: Fuck

  Huh.

  I sat at the table staring at my phone when Victor came into the kitchen wearing only the blue and black plaid, flannel sleeping pants I’d gotten him for Christmas and rubbing his hands over his face.

  “Got anything good to eat?” he asked, heading to the fridge and pulling out the milk.

  “There are some chocolate chip cookies I made in the jar.” I turned and caught him just as he was about to drink the milk from the container and scolded, “Victor Edward Justice! You stop right now!”

  He pulled the carton away from his mouth, grinning as he walked to the cabinet to retrieve a glass and fill it.

  “You’d better not be doing that when I’m not here. Gross! I use a lot of milk in baking and I don’t want your germs in everything.” I made a face which made him chuckle.

  Clutching the cookie jar under his elbow against his side, he brought it and his glass to the table and sat across from me. “I don’t do it all the time, On.” He pulled out a cookie eating it in two bites. “Fuck, these are good.”

  “Thanks.” I gave him a look as I added, “And please don’t do it any time. It’s disgusting.”

  “Found out some bad news,” he said, mouth full.

  I looked up from my phone. “What?”

  “Finch just told me last night that someone’s skimming the till.” At my shocked look, he continued. “He s
aid almost ten grand was taken last year.” My mouth fell open at what his boss had told him as he took a drink of milk. “And almost two thousand so far this year.”

  “Twelve thousand total? Good grief. Does he have any idea who it is?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I’ve always been suspicious of Ingram. He started working last March which is around the time it began.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah.” He looked at me as he chewed another cookie. “So what’s wrong?”

  My eyes narrowed. “How do you know something’s wrong?”

  “When you’re upset, you get those little lines between your eyes.” He put his fingers just above the bridge of his nose to show me where.

  Great. Wrinkles. I used my thumb and forefinger to smooth out the lines and blew out a breath. “Krys and I went to eat at this new restaurant last night.” I bit my lips before saying, “Drake was there with another woman.”

  He frowned as he took a drink. “You two exclusive?” he asked after setting the glass down.

  I shrugged. “He told me he doesn’t fuck around, whatever that means.”

  “You talk to him?”

  “I confronted him, yeah.”

  “And?”

  Another sigh. “He said it wasn’t what I thought.”

  Now he shrugged. “Then trust him.”

  I let out an unamused huff. “Sure. He’s out with a model and I’m supposed to trust him. I’ll get right on that.”

  Vic’s eyebrows came up. “Model?”

  “Chanel Chadwick.” He shook his head not recognizing the name. “Her dad’s some big shot at Amazon. She’s a runway model, Krys said. Travels all over the world.”

  “Never heard of her,” he claimed.

  We sat in silence as I put my hands in my lap and leaned against the table putting my forehead on it. “I may also have thrown a glass of Ouzo in his face.”

  “Fuck.” He snorted. After a couple minutes, he asked, “You heard from him since?”

  “He’s texted and called. And he came by the house this morning but I was too busy being not sober to answer it.”

  “He must have it bad for you then,” he mumbled.

  “Why do you say that?” I asked raising my head from the table to look at my brother. I mean, Drake had been out with another woman! If that wasn’t a blatant statement of not having it bad for me, I didn’t know what was.

  “If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have bothered.”

  I stared at him. “You think I should talk to him?”

  “Up to you,” he replied. He stood and went to the sink to rinse his glass out.

  Watching as he came back for the cookie jar, I questioned, “Do you keep secrets from girls you’re serious about?”

  He placed the jar on the counter and turned, leaning back against it, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “Depends.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “If I robbed a bank and wasn’t sure how she’d handle that bit of info, I’d probably keep it to myself.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Get serious.”

  “Like I said, it depends.”

  “Have there been times when you didn’t want a woman to come to the house?”

  He laughed. “Plenty.”

  “Why?” I questioned as my brow came down.

  He pushed off the counter with his butt. “If they’re crazy, I don’t want them to know where I fucking live.”

  “So Drake thinks I’m crazy…”

  Walking behind me, he grabbed the messy bun on top of my head and shook it. “Not saying that, On. Talk to him and I’m sure he’ll explain,” he offered, leaving the kitchen then calling from the hallway, “Gotta go in early! Taking a shower and I’m outta here! And make some more of those fucking awesome cookies!”

  ~*~*~*~*~

  By four o’clock, I’d succeeded in taking up two hours after Vic left by cleaning out the fridge first then making cookies.

  And avoiding calling Drake.

  Just as I pulled the last batch out of the oven, the doorbell rang.

  Wiping my hands on a towel on the way into the living room, I peeked out the front window then proceeded to suck in so much air that I choked.

  Drake!

  Crap!

  My coughing finally under control, I cleared my throat, biting my lower lip not knowing what to do. Let’s see, be an adult or keep running from this like a baby. Hm. What to do.

  “I know you’re in there, Honor. Saw your truck,” he called through the door. Then he tacked on, “And heard you coughing.”

  Damn it.

  All right. Adulting it was.

  I opened the front door and looked at him dispassionately through the storm door raising my eyebrows.

  “Can I come in?” he grated out, having the nerve to look offended that I hadn’t just welcomed him in all chipper and shit.

  Now chewing the inside of my lip in indecision—and giving him one hell of an apathetic look of which I was proud because he looked so good I wanted to jump on him and have my way with him until I remembered he’d been on a friggin’ date the night before—deeeeep breath—I finally unlocked the screen door with an annoyed huff letting him in.

  I turned my back and walked into the living room as he shut the door. Then facing him, I crossed my arms over my chest and questioned, “What do you want, Drake?”

  His hands went to his hips as he exhaled through his nose. “Last night isn’t what you’re thinking.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Really? It looked like a date to me.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not what it was.”

  “Are you sleeping with her?”

  “No. Told you I don’t fuck around.”

  “What was it then?”

  His head went back and he stared at the ceiling for a long moment. Then looking at me again, he repeated, “It wasn’t a date.”

  Irked at that non-answer answer, I remarked, “See? That’s what I’ve been talking about. You keep things from me because you don’t trust me.” Puffing out a humorless laugh, I continued. “But I figured it out last night. This,” I flashed a finger several times between us, “is nothing serious to you.”

  Hands still on his hips, his face suddenly broke into a grin—which might’ve just pissed me right the hell off just then—and he lowered and shook his head at the floor, chuckling. “Whatever you wanna think, Honor.” His head came up and he declared, “This is very fucking serious to me.” He took a step toward me. “And it wasn’t a date,” he reiterated.

  “You lied about having to stay home,” I pointed out.

  He stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t lie. Something came up which meant fuck all to me but I had to go along.”

  I frowned and shook my head. “What does that even mean?”

  “It means it wasn’t a date,” he answered, taking another step.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” I warned, holding a palm out toward him and taking a step back. “Stop, Drake.”

  He smirked as he kept moving forward.

  “I can’t be with you if you don’t trust me,” I stated, my back hitting the wall just at the hall entrance.

  Before I could move away, he was there, hands on either side of me trapping me in. Leaning down and locking eyes with me, he stated cryptically, “I just have to be sure.”

  “You keep saying that. What the hell does it me—” His mouth smashed down onto mine before I could finish.

  And, good lord, I loved the way he kissed. As a consequence, I couldn’t not kiss him back because I was still so freaking attracted to him. Our mouths still connected, he pulled the band from my hair while at the same time backing me down the hallway toward my bedroom, which I knew was a bad idea and at which I tried putting on the brakes. Okay, it would’ve been a totally amazing idea and “tried” is probably too strong a word for what I actually did, but whatever. But once inside my room, putting my hands to his chest, I did push off and back way the hell away from him as he shut the
door.

  “We’re not doing this, Drake,” I said when he turned, eyes hot on me.

  “We are. Believe what you wanna believe about last night, Honor, but I’m telling you the truth. It wasn’t a date.”

  He’d said that numerous times, but I still didn’t know if I was convinced. I mean, I’d seen him out with another woman! What more could it have been? I now stood staring at him, my brain still trying to catch up in the letting-my-body-know-this-wasn’t-going-to-happen-between-us department when I heard a click as he locked my door and a shiver ran through me.

  Guess my body didn’t get the memo.

  His eyes stayed on mine as he removed the flannel shirt he wore then he reached behind his head to pull off his very freaking cool Slipknot t-shirt—leave it to me to notice stupid shit like that—and holy damn. That chest. Those abs. And those colorful, gorgeous hot tattoos. My body was already in an aroused state just from kissing and now watching him disrobe.

  As I stood there thinking how badly I wanted him but knowing I probably shouldn’t, I decided right then I was a grown-assed woman and if I wanted to fuck him, I would. I mean, hello, sexy man undressing in front of me? Hell yes. I’d deal with the emotional fallout later, but right then, I didn’t care.

  Eyes flashing at mine as if daring me, he gave me a barely detectable nod and I knew he wanted me to take off my shirt too.

  Since I’d never been one to back down from a dare, I pulled off my shirt, standing there in my bra, jeans and sock-covered feet, raising my brow all, “What now?”

  I saw his lip twitch the smallest bit then his hands went to his jeans, unbuttoning them.

  Another small nod from him had me undoing my own jeans after which I again gave him an indifferent look.

  This went on until he was down to just his boxer briefs and me to my panties and bra when his head made another slight movement, his eyes going to the floor then back to mine.

  I narrowed mine at what he was suggesting.

  God.

  God!

  I knew now this was nothing but a power play. He was testing to see if I trusted him.

  Because up until now, I’d been the one asking for his trust, but he was presently showing me that I hadn’t given him my own, not really. As I stood there, chest heaving with my breaths, trying to decide if I could go there, it felt as if this moment was huge, monumental as to what would happen between us in what I’d do next.