“So, I was right.” He stared down at me frowning, a crease growing on his brow.
I ran a hand over my face and sighed before pulling out of his grip. “I’m fine, Mr. Drake. Really.”
I grabbed my purse and made for the elevator, but as soon as I pushed the button, there he was. I felt his presence like a force of nature, larger than life behind me. I didn’t turn around, daring myself to stand tall, despite the embarrassment I felt like a sock to the gut.
The doors slid open, and we stepped through together. There was silence on the ride down to the lobby, but I could feel his eyes on me, assessing me coolly like I was a puzzle he was trying to figure out.
When the bell chimed and the doors slid open again, I yelped as I found myself lifted off my feet. Mr. Drake slung me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and I held on for dear life.
“I warned you what would happen if you tried to walk home, Isabeau. I was very clear. You’re coming with me, and I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
I hung there in shock as he began walking toward the parking lot, bobbing with each step, wondering whether I should laugh or cry. Was my gorgeous boss really carrying me away like a cave man? What the hell?
“I’m fine! Really!” I squeaked, trying not to stare at his sculpted ass, which was conveniently at eye level.
A hard swat came down on my rear, and I gasped.
“That’s just about enough of that, Isa. Don’t ever lie to me.”
“But…”
He spanked me again, and my pu**y heated, despite the furious blush on my face and the twinge of anger coursing through me at being treated this way. I was a grown woman! I can take care of myself, even if it did mean walking the four miles to my place… in the dark… in heels. It was my business, and mine alone.
“Enough. One more word out of you before we’re in the car, and I’ll spank your ass raw right here in public. Is that what you want?”
I opened my mouth to protest, then shut it, sensing the trap.
“Very good,” he said, chuckling.
He carried me as if I weighed nothing, moving steadily to the executive lot where his Bentley sat, gleaming black beneath the lonely street lamp. I heard the chirp of his locks springing open, and the rumble of his engine as he remote started it.
Then, the world shifted, and I was being held tightly against him as I regained my feet. His body was hard and warm, and, in that moment, I wanted nothing better than to press myself up against him and let him hold me all night. I pushed away, steadying myself.
“Hop in,” he said.
He held the door open for me and grinned, his twin dimples making my insides melt.
I nodded and slid into the supple leather seat, letting him close the door behind me. I repressed a giggle. You never hear about a caveman opening doors for a lady. Mr. Drake slid behind the wheel, unbuttoning his Armani suit jacket as he did. I couldn’t help but stare for a moment at this man, my boss, who cared so much about me making it home safe.
The door clicked shut, and we were off. We sat in silence for a while as he merged onto the freeway, the lights of the city flickering by like fire flies on a hot summer night. I sat back in the seat, loving the feel of the leather on my skin, before my stomach rumbled loudly, making me wish I could sink into it and disappear.
“Are you hungry?” Mr. Drake glanced over at me and grinned. When I didn’t respond, he added, “You can talk now, you know.”
I smiled into the darkness. “A bit. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“I’m starving, too. Hang on. I know a place.”
Before I could protest, he was exiting, moving toward downtown, away from my apartment. I realized that I never told him where I lived. Where had he been taking me?
We pulled up to a restaurant whose name I couldn’t pronounce, and he opened the car door for me once again before tossing his keys to the valet. Yep. There was a freaking valet at this place. I looked down at my work clothes and chewed my lip. Mr. Drake was already at the door, holding it for me, looking at me with a raised eyebrow.
The maitre de smiled and shook Mr. Drake’s hand before ushering him to “his table.” It was my turn to raise an eyebrow as I looked around the place. The lights were low and candles flickered on every table. The walls were covered in gorgeous polished wood with art work hanging in lighted niches. I’d never been to a restaurant like this, and suddenly, I was glad for the dim lighting. I stuck out like a sore thumb.
I ran my hands through my hair, trying to smooth it out now that it was down, before Mr. Drake caught my hand. His eyes seemed to be looking through me before he pulled my chair out and gestured for me to sit. He sat down before letting me go, his hand lingering on mine.
“Are you uncomfortable here?”
His question caught me off guard. Was I that obvious?
“A little,” I said. “I’m not dressed for it.” I glanced down at the menu, and swallowed hard. “And I don’t think I can afford it,” I ended, my voice just above a whisper.
Mr. Drake laughed, and I stared at him in surprise.
“No one cares what you’re wearing, Isabeau. You’re with me.” He leaned in, the angles of his face accentuated by the candlelight. “And when you’re with me, it’s my treat. I thought that much was obvious.”
Relief flooded me, and I sat back with a long exhale. “Thank you, Sir.”
There was a strange light in his eyes at the word ‘Sir,’ but as soon as I saw it, it was gone, and he was leaning comfortably back, looking at the menu. Had I imagined it?
“My pleasure. Now, tell me, Isabeau. Have you ever had foie gras?”
***
At first I’d worried we’d have nothing to talk about, but as dinner wore on, Mr. Drake seemed to delight in introducing me new foods and wines, watching my face intently as I tried them all, and smiling like a kid on Christmas morning when he found something I enjoyed. The bone marrow foam turned out to be delicious instead of disgusting (as I’d feared), and the riesling paired with the crème brulee was the best thing I’d had in years.
He asked about my family, and I told him about my sister and brother back in Oregon, and how I’d been living with my Grandma Rose, taking care of her until she passed away this year.
“That explains why a woman like you was temping. You put your career on hold for her, didn’t you?”
I frowned back at him. “What do you mean? ‘A woman like me’?”
Is he insulting me? After all this?