Systematic Siege #4 (Siege Serial)

by N. Isabelle Blanco

  I think I hate him even more now because all I can think about is walking up to him and biting that sexy, thick neck.

  I’d do it hard. Mark him. Possibly draw blood.

  “I’ll need you to come with me to the event tonight.”

  His words slap me out of my sex-starved haze. “No.” Like hell I’ll be caught alone with him outside of work.

  Drew slows in his pacing. Then, he comes to a full stop, his head swiveling in my direction. “Excuse me?” His eyes are hard. His jaw clenches. This is my boss glaring in outrage at my denial.

  My entire body tenses on the chair, preparing for battle, every instinct aware of his aggression rising in the room. “I read your calendar and the briefs of what that event is going to entail. You don’t need me with you.”

  But I need distance. Time to myself. Looking at him is enough to erase any sexual trauma. I feared sex for so long.

  Yet now I’m crazed to suck his cock.

  Writhe on it.

  “You’re right. I don’t need you with me for this event.” He starts walking to me and something about his gait seems cruel. “What I do need is you by my side.” Drew grabs the armrests and leans down, trapping me with that ruthless, unrelenting gaze. “At all times. I went seven years without you—don’t ask me to spend another needless minute more.”

  “What?” I snap, annoyed at his closeness. At the things he makes me want to do. “You’re planning on moving in, too, just to keep me close at all times?”

  His lips twitch and all I want to do is rub my clit all over them. “Don’t tempt me, baby.”

  My thighs quiver. I tense them, knowing that he’ll see if I press them together. My pussy aches so bad my teeth start grinding. “I have a choice.” The statement holds no authority, just the softness of a woman in heat.

  God damn, his fucking scent.

  I press back into the chair, desperate for some space.

  Drew’s eyes search mine, before falling to my lips. I gasp as he bites his bottom lip slowly.

  He’s going to kiss me.

  If he does, I’m going to snap and attack him. Force him to fuck me right on his desk.

  He’s still staring at my lips, his pupils slowly expanding.

  Panicking, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “If you want me to go to the event, you’ll answer a question for me and you’ll answer it honestly.”

  He backs up a bit at that, seeming surprised. “I’m your boss, remember?” His eyebrow quirks with amusement.

  I glare at him and push against his chest until he finally eases away from me. “You want me here more than I want to be here.”

  His eyes flash with pain and I blink in surprise at the regret I feel. “You’re probably right about that baby.”

  That fucking word. The way he says it.

  As if seven years didn’t pass. As if he never betrayed me. As if we’re still back there, in the field, where he’s making all his pretty, glittery promises and pretending I’m his world.

  But God. What if he didn’t betray me?

  You are his world. No idea where that thought came from but I shove it down. Lifting my chin, I stare at him right in the eyes. “If you want me to come, tell me. Where’s Barnard Wellington right now?”

  64

  Andrew shoots away from me, but not before I see his pupils shrinking with dread. “What do you mean?” His tone is casual.

  I don’t know why, but his attempt at lying to me is like a kick to the chest. Suddenly furious, I stand and deposit my notepad and phone onto my seat. “Don’t play stupid. The whole world knows he’s missing by now.”

  And fuck. Even Paul, a person that doesn’t know my history with Andrew, suspects he had something to do with it. Something Paul saw in Andrew must have given him the vibe that he would be capable of this.

  Andrew opens his mouth to speak; I hold up a hand, stopping him. “And let me tell you something right now. If you even try to lie to me again, you’ll be putting me in a position of never, ever trusting you.”

  His chest rises and falls with a sigh. “You already don’t trust me.”

  Maybe it’s the dream still fucking with my head. Maybe it’s this insane craving I have to bounce on his dick—literally.

  Hell, maybe it’s because I’m sick and tired of feeling so alone in this world, but once again I blurt out the truth. “I want to.”

  His expression softens. “Lexi.”

  The intercom beeps. “The delivery you’re expecting is here, Mr. Drevlow. As well as Ms. Rhines.” My new assistant.

  Shit. It’s 9:00am already? The last half-hour went by insanely fast.

  “Thank you. Send the delivery up first. Then send Ms. Rhines up in five minutes.” He walks back in my direction. Stopping a foot away from me, he crosses his arms, biceps bulging with strain beneath the dark gray fabric of his blazer.

  I can’t help but get the feeling that he’s holding himself back from touching me.

  “You’re right, Lexi. I’m sorry.”

  Don’t know what I expected but, oh my fucking God. Was that a confirmation?

  The elevator opens and within seconds, a huge Spanish man in a black suit appears. He’s carrying a big, white box in one hand. In the other, he’s holding two shopping bags—a cardboard one with the Christian Louboutin logo on it and a smaller aqua bag that would be unmistakable anywhere.

  Andrew motions for the packages to be left on my desk.

  My mouth falls open.

  Grabbing my chin gently, he turns my head back in his direction. “I’ll be working with Ms. Rhines to get her up to speed on my calendar and such. That”—he nods his head at the items on my desk—“is your outfit for tonight. You’ll need to leave two hours early to start getting ready.”

  When he turns to walk back to his desk, I have to literally shake my head to refocus. “Andrew!”

  He stops right next to his desk.

  “Are you confirming you have something to do with it?” I ask, my voice shaking.

  He continues walking around to his chair. Once before it, he stops and aims those toffee-colored eyes my way. “Yes, Lexi. I am.”

  I swear to God the ground tilts. “W-why? To bring down Menahan?” He’s willing to go this far? Risk this much? This is no longer just a private war between two frighteningly powerful CEOs. This . . . this has become utterly public.

  “Yes. To bring him down. And”—he sits on his throne and smooths a hand down his lapel, as calm as can be—“because he helped hurt you, Lexi.” His eyes seem to shimmer in the bright daylight pouring in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. “They’re all going to pay.”

  All speech deserts me as my reality once again realigns itself.

  “Ms. Rhines will be here shortly. I promise we’ll talk more about this later.”

  Normally, I wouldn’t drop it. I’d push and push until he gave me all the information.

  Normally.

  Right now I’m pretty sure I’m fucking shattered and I’m not allowing myself to process it.

  In a daze, I grab my things and walk toward the sliding glass door.

  “Oh, and Lexi?”

  I pause right at the door.

  “That right there is Mateo. He’s your new bodyguard.”

  Because now I need one?

  Of course I do.

  Another elevator opens and a young brunette walks inside.

  “Get used to his presence, Lexi. He’ll be with you everywhere you go from now on.”

  Still reeling, I avoid my new assistant’s stare, walk back to my desk, and plop down on my chair.

  Mateo, expression stoic, walks to the sitting area in front of my desk and calmly sits on the couch. Making himself comfortable, he pulls out his phone and gets busy doing . . . whatever the hell it is resting bodyguards do.

  “Ms. Rhines, please come in,” Andrew says from within his office, and I realize she’d been standing there, looking at me have a stoic mental breakdown.

  My eyes bounce off th
e packages on my desk, my heart racing so hard my chest hurts with each hit.

  I’m way over my head. Lord help me, it’s time I admit that no part of this is under my control.

  None.

  I really did escape the hold of one tyrant, only to end up in the clutches of another.

  65

  I’m supposed to be on my way out. Need to get home and get dressed. Prepare myself for this event, a meeting of powerful people all donating to the Holtzman Charity. In reality, it’s the scene of whatever plot Andrew is hatching, and the guest list confirmed it.

  Menahan will be there.

  So will Kaylee.

  I’m not ready to face Stephen, but Andrew isn’t giving me the choice. Logically, I understand that whatever he’s planning, he needs me there. But it isn’t just about the plan. Andrew wants to hurt Stephen and me being there is the kind of blow that will keep Stephen off balance.

  Luckily for Andrew, I want to hurt Stephen just as bad.

  However, that doesn’t make dealing with how fast things are moving any easier.

  “I’m telling you, Lexi.” Mom pauses, struggling to catch her breath.

  I fight to keep my eyes on her face. That oxygen mask is nowhere near as jarring as seeing the tube inserted into her.

  “He cares about you. He’s going to help you.”

  It’s funny how years ago, my mother had lost all trust in Andrew. Had come to believe that he was no different than his father. But over the last three years, something began changing her mind. Little by little, she became “Team Andrew” and I never understood why.

  Now I suspect.

  Grabbing her hand, I struggle to maintain my calm. Upsetting her isn’t an option right now. They started her on an even more aggressive ART regimen this morning. I can only guess the sheer amount of antivirals they’re pumping her with. “Mom . . . I need to ask you something and I need you to be one-hundred percent honest.”

  Her eyes, the same color as my own, focus directly on me.

  “Did you . . . did you know what happened to Andrew six years ago?”

  She doesn’t answer but the tears that flood her eyes tell me enough.

  Shocked, I let go of her hand. I don’t know how my heart still has the ability to feel pain, after all the beatings it’s taken during my life, but I have to resist the urge to hold a hand to my chest. “Why . . . why didn’t you—”

  “Tell you?” My mother’s voice is a strained whisper. “You didn’t want to hear it. A mere mention of his name would send you deeper into that despair. Not even Stephen’s abuse could hurt you as bad.”

  I’m startled to feel two fat tears leak down my cheeks. Now, more than ever, I’m hyperaware of Mateo’s huge, silent presence standing by the door. I should be more careful, shouldn’t speak with Mom about this while he’s here. What if he goes back and tells Drew? Doesn’t matter. My emotions decide for me. “Wh-what are you saying?”

  “The truth.” Mom reaches out for my hand. Seeing how thin and frail it is—how her weak fingers stretch while seeking my own—I can’t refuse her. Regardless of how fucked up I am. “And Lexi? He’s not like his father.” A tear slides down Mom’s cheek. “Maybe some parts of him are, but you matter to him. Just tell him everything. He’ll fix it for you. I know he will.”

  I’m sobbing now. All-out ugly crying. There are no words, just me shaking my head. I can’t find the words to tell my mom that Andrew already knows the gist of it. That he’s making moves to fix it.

  That I suspect his version of “fixing” what happened to me includes murder.

  “Lexi.” The way Mom squeezes my hand shocks me. The move displays more strength than I thought her capable of. “Whatever he’s planning, be by his side. I spoke to him. I saw the look in his eyes. Trust him.”

  I don’t know what to say.

  A minute or two passes and then Mateo steps closer to us, clearing his throat. “Ms. Berkman, we need to head out. Mr. Drevlow gave us strict instructions as to what time to be ready.”

  I didn’t even get to talk to him today. Again. He spent the whole morning walking Ms. Rhines through the basics; an event that I hate to admit drove me crazy. Apparently, Andrew Drevlow is obsessed with personally training the people that work closest to him.

  Then he headed out an hour ago on an important “errand”.

  Standing, I lean over and kiss Mom’s forehead. “Don’t worry, Mom. I plan on doing whatever is necessary to bring down Stephen.” I straighten and wipe the tears off my cheeks, shoving my feelings where I always do—deep, deep into the recesses of my mind. “But trusting him isn’t a possibility right now. First, I need to find out what’s really going on.”

  Which means getting it through that man’s head.

  Whatever it is, I can handle it. I’ve been through much, much worse.

  66

  I can’t handle this.

  What the hell was I thinking earlier?

  My ankle twists mid-step. My bodyguard momentarily places his hand on my arm to steady me. I barely notice it. Can’t rip my eyes away.

  It’s just a suit. Nothing more. Stop overreact—Jesus. Look at him.

  No, I’m serious. Look. At. Him.

  Like the deadly predator he is, Andrew Drevlow steps away from his car, his eyes glowing golden in the street lights.

  I can’t walk.

  Can’t breathe.

  How did I think I could do this?

  “Mr. Drevlow,” Mateo says, surprise evident in his tone. He hadn’t expected Andrew here either. It hadn’t been the plan. We were supposed to meet Andrew at the Holtzman Manor, where the event is taking place.

  Instead, here he is, frozen twenty-feet from me, body wrapped deliciously in that black suit. White button down open at the collar. Bow-tie. I’ve seen hundreds of men in suits, but there’s no denying that Andrew looks like pure sex in them.

  His hair is as short as usual, shaved close to his head, but there’s stubble covering his jaw.

  I haven’t moved. He hasn’t either. Mateo has gone silent behind me.

  Andrew’s eyes drop to my feet, where one of my silver, Louboutin peep-toe heels is bared thanks to the slit in my dress. His eyes fixate on that slit, rising very, very slow, up the length of me.

  I started shaking as soon as I saw the outfit—from the instinctual knowledge that he picked this out for me. The dress is made of luxurious, soft blue fabric. Not just any blue either.

  Royal blue.

  The same color as the dress I wore the night of my eighteenth-birthday.

  Around my wrists and dangling from my ears is a small fortune in diamonds. My neck was left bare and I can understand why he chose it that way.

  The multitude of diamonds sewn into the hem of my demi-cup bodice are decoration enough.

  “Mateo,” Andrew snaps, wild eyes locked on my chest. “You’ll be following in your car. I’m escorting Ms. Berkman.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Apparently, Mateo knows better than to question the man in front of us.

  Even after he walks away toward his own car—a huge, black beast that rivals my own truck—I can’t bring myself to move a muscle. This attraction has blown up inside me again, worse than ever.

  Lord help Andrew Drevlow, but if I get within a foot of him, I’m going to maul him.

  Clenching his jaw, he starts walking toward me, each step controlled but determined. It’s like watching destiny coming at you full force—you’re scared as fuck, utterly unprepared, and yet you lack the strength to run away.

  He stops in front of me, chest racing, eyes bouncing all over me like he doesn’t know where to focus. Slowly, he raises a hand and runs his fingers down the ends of my hair. I styled it over my shoulder, leaving a hint of curl at the end.

  “I miss your curls,” he rasps, finally meeting my eyes.

  There’s no answer to that. I’m busy staring at him, trying to make sense of this. How the fuck can one man have so much power over anyone?

  He grabs my hand, groaning low in
his chest at the feel of my skin.

  That’s okay, I guess. It’s not like I was able to hold back my breathless whimper, either.

  Lexi, you’re so fucked, girl. So fucked. Because I’m going to end up fucking this man. There’s no doubt. I shouldn’t. Really, really shouldn’t. Yet who on Earth would be able to control themselves?

  “Come.” He begins leading me toward his car, that insanely expensive piece of machinery. It’s even more expensive-looking than his car all those years ago.

  Something I don’t need to be thinking about right now. At all.

  He opens the door for me. I’m unsteady on my heels as I lower myself into the seat. Once he’s come around to his side and settled into the driver’s seat, he stares at me silently for a few minutes.

  Licking suddenly dry lips, I rasp out the first question that comes to mind, “Why did you change the plan and come to pick me up?” Why did you catch me off guard in a less crowded setting, blindsiding me? Maybe if we’d been around more people I would’ve been distracted.

  The car purrs to life. “I couldn’t stop myself.”

  Don’t look at him. Don’t. You’ll lose it. It can’t be normal that a person that’s been abused as much as me can feel like this—two breaths away from going rabid and devouring that man.

  “I also need to get you up to speed.”

  That finally makes me look at him. “Oh? You’re finally ready to be fully honest?”

  His eyes flicker in my direction. “Of course, Lexi. I promised.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, baby, I need you to trust me.”

  67

  The Holtzman Manor is over an hour away from Jersey City. I don’t know how much time has passed. All I know is my mind is nearly catatonic from everything I’ve heard.

  I expected that Andrew’s plan involved ruinous strikes at Menahan Industries. I’d already begun mapping out a series of cyberattacks designed to possibly infiltrate his systems. Or at the very least, check if the vulnerabilities I knew existed before are still there.