Chapter 4: Avery & Drake

AVERY

Shock seeps into me like water drowns the earth after a storm. Words fail, my brain scrambling to process what the hell is happening. Suddenly aware of Jude’s presence, I look behind me, for verification I am hearing correctly. I’ve barely turned when a calloused male hand grips my chin.

The pressure is gentle, but enough to stop me from turning further. “Don’t look at him, Avery.” He doesn’t pull or demand, waiting for me to comply willingly. The heat of his stare has turned my skin pink and I think it might be permanent.

Doing as he wishes, my gaze returns to his, a smirk already there. “Good girl,” he whispers, the compliment making me lightheaded for reasons I can’t explain. His hand drops, and he straightens, backing away, putting space between us.

Gulping, grateful for the distance, he sits on the desk’s edge, his legs crossed. He seems calm, almost relaxed, but I know underneath he is lethal, a tiger waiting to pounce. Darkness swirls around him, forbidden, powerful, and dangerously addictive. The kind I should fear, but instead of running I want it to drag me under and force me into submission. “So, why are you here, Avery?”

“I thought the resume made it clear.” I respond, not sure if it’s the lack of oxygen, or my upcoming marriage that’s made me brazen and stupid. Whatever it is, now isn’t the time to figure it out. Displeased by my snarky reply, his eyes flash dangerously, reminding me of my place. Shame forcing me to look away, anywhere but at him.

“Avery,” he growls, forcing my gaze back until they connect with his onyx irises. “Thank you. I didn’t think you’d need a job, being Hayden’s fiancèe and all.” He lifts the newspaper from this weekend, revealing our picture in the society section.

Disgust rolls my stomach, making me increasingly uncomfortable. “Please don’t use Hayden and fiance in the same sentence. I’d rather not be reminded.”

“Not a happy union?” He asks, his gaze flicking to Jude, a private conversation happening with a glance. “How do I know this isn't a ploy by Hayden or your father to get business secrets?”

“We both know that if Frederick wanted your business secrets, he wouldn’t use me to get them.” I speak plainly, finding no reason to lie. He’s already caught me in one lie. What’s the point of trying for more?

“And Hayden?” He asks, his voice low, mostly a thunderous rumble. Muscles in his jaw clenching, his hands tightening into fists in his lap. His eyes pierce me, impatient for my answer.

“Is the man I am forced to marry, nothing more.” I raise my chin and straighten my shoulders. My stare doesn’t move from his for a second, knowing he can see the dilemma surrounding me, but I don’t bother hiding it.

“So, you ran here expecting me to play the hero?” He stands, coming closer, his footsteps soft and patient, like a cat ready to pounce on its price. His cologne is intoxicating as he towers above me. “Lets get this clear, Avery, I am not a white knight.”

“Good,” I breathe, not even sure what’s being said, my brain a frantic mess with him so close. “I never asked you to be. I need a morally gray son of Darkness, anyway.”

A smirk reappears as he bends closer, mumbling so low only I can hear. My breathing shallows, oxygen in short supply whenever he is near.

His low grumble sending shivers down my spine. My palms are sweaty, my hormones reacting in ways I couldn’t predict. “You have no idea how dark I am, darling. The price of my services are steep. Are you sure you’re willing to pay it?”

“Yes,” whooshes past my lips, signing away my soul to New York City’s baddest devil, and there is no turning back now.

“Good girl,” the satisfaction surrounding him turns me inside out with confusion. Why does his happiness with my actions feel so….rewarding? “Now, what to do with you?” His question eliciting a secret thrill that it shouldn’t.

“She could always work at the club,” Jude says, moving to stand beside us. I forgot he was there, my attention focused on Mr. Winters so intensely, the rest of the world fell away. If my skin was pink before, it’s vermillion now, for falling into Drake’s hypnotic trap. “The other members would go crazy trying to get a piece of her.”

I am unsure what he is referencing, but whatever it is, it has my stomach knotting anxiously. An uneasy furor slides through my bloodstream, my gaze not breaking away from dark eyes. Silently pleading with him to choose anything else, any other job available. I’ll take scrubbing his toilets over whatever Jude suggested.

“I think I’d be best in the marketing department,” I counter adamantly, doing everything to detract him from agreeing with Jude. He remains mute, his heated gaze staring me down, weighing his options. These thirty seconds drag while he ponders my fate.

“Neither,” he answers, relief lasting moments before it hits me his decision could be the worst option of all. “You’ll be my personal assistant. Where I go, you’ll go too.”

My heart stops, my stomach dropping through the floor as I attempt to comprehend his reasoning. My insides want to deny his request and get the hell out of here. However, the devil sitting before me taunts me with sweet sin and all its possibilities.

“I need a decision, Avery,” he demands impatiently, his jaw clenched in annoyance. A dominance about him that makes it hard to deny him. Do I even want to? “You agree to my price, or you leave and never return.”

“I accept.” My answer escapes before I have time to think through the decision. It’s become a habit lately, one that I need to break before it gets out of hand. Or maybe it already has? I am here aren’t I?

“Perfect answer.” he smiles, replacing the smirk he has worn during the entire meeting. He reaches behind him, hitting a button on his phone, barely ringing before a female answers.

“Yes, Mr. Winters?” she says, pleasant and professional. Guilt riddles me as the situation becomes clear.

“You’re fired, Ursala,” Drake says, not looking at anything else but me. “Collect your severance from HR and good luck.” He’s concise and direct, ending the call without giving her a chance to defend herself.

Crossing his arms over his chest, a silent challenge. He’s testing me, seeing if I’ll comment on his actions, but I remain silent, understanding what I signed up for. “Why me?” he questions, head tilting, like I’m a puzzle he can’t piece together. “Of all the men in New York City to ask for a job, you chose me? Why?”

“The only way to fight evil is with a greater one,” I repeat Davina’s logic, not understanding that I insulted him until it’s too late. Why can’t my brain tell my mouth to shut up? Instead, it speaks every thought I have.

He snorts with amusement, “I’ll let the implied insult slide today, Avery.” His glare sears me, “next time there will be consequences.” His threats make me gulp, wondering what he means by that. Why do I have the sudden desire to push his buttons further just so I can figure it out?

“I expect you to be here every day, at 7 am sharp,” he commands, leaving no room for debate or negotiation. “That includes Saturday and Sunday.” He pauses, looking at me, making sure I understand. When he knows I do, he continues with his rules.

“You will always address me as ‘Sir,’ or ‘Mr. Winters.” He steps closer, his hand extending outward, reaching for my wig. I don’t flinch this time, remaining still at his sudden movement. Rather, I wait patiently while he tugs the blonde locks from my scalp. “You’ll never wear this monstrosity again.”

He throws the wig down, his nimble fingers working the nylon cap off before I can protest. He moves quick, the bobby pins echo against the marble floors, falling one by one. I remain still, watching him from my peripherals, awed by his beauty. A stoic expression overcomes him as he works, his eyes devouring me, an expression I’ve never seen on a man before. My hair tumbles free, my brown hair going down my shoulders and back.

“Mr. Winters,” I whisper as he admires his handiwork, and I feel almost guilty popping his bubble. “I don’t think I can negotiate the wig, it has to stay.”

“Why?” His entire aura turning into a scalding fire, as his chest touching mine so faintly, but enough pressure to feel through the thin fabric of my dress. It last only a second before I take a small step back. “I don’t like being questioned, without good reason, so you better have one.”

“Hayden and Frederick,” I square my shoulders, elaborating further, when he raises his eyebrows. “If they find out I’m working for-”

“That’s a problem you’ll have to take care of yourself, Avery,” his fiery energy suddenly colder than ice. “You agreed to my price, remember? Well, that wig and those contacts are included. Are we understood?”

“Yes, sir,” I mumble, my cheeks flaming from his scolding. Anxiety that had nearly disappeared returns like a vengeance, clawing at me, trying to regain control. Confidence that appeared out of nowhere, suddenly gone, vanishing.

“Good,” he says, turning visibly cooler, his jaw so tight the muscles twitch. “Now this conversation is done. Jude will show you out.” He spins, breaking our stare, leaving me flabbergasted and wanting. Shaking my head, I get myself together, giving him another curious glance, only to understand it’s useless. I don’t want his attention I remind myself before strutting to the elevator, Jude following behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DRAKE

Avery’s heels echo throughout the space, signaling her departure. The desire to watch her leave forces me to turn. I wasn’t supposed to. I told myself I wouldn’t, but I am so glad I did. Because now I get to witness my best friend’s hand on her fucking waist. Red blurs the edges of my vision, hot rage boiling through my blood. Breathing heavily, I walk to the wet bar, preparing two whiskey straights, setting one aside for him.

The elevator opens moments later, Jude striding through the room, his cocky grin only inciting more of my fury. Nodding to the drink, he says a quick thanks, before taking he a sip. The hand that pressed against her is resting between us on the counter. Taunting me with the image forever.

“She’s hotter than the pictures you have,” he comments, clearly not reading the room or noticing the knife in my hand. “I think I’ll enjoy having her work here, with those big innocent eyes-”

His comment is the last straw, my tenuous restraint snapping like a rubber band. My knuckles tightening around the handle. With swift movements, the blade pierces his flesh, going through his palm and into the counter. Blood squirts, coating the white marble. Jude’s screams are more beautiful than Mozart.

“What the fuck!” He hollers, then whimpers, pulling the handle from his hand with a groan. “What’s your fucking problem, man!?” He throws the knife down, scrambling for a towel to stop the bleeding. I don’t budge to help, watching with amusement. My hand wraps around his neck, constricting until he sputters for breath.

“That’s for touching, Avery,” I growl, while he claws at my hand, begging for breath. “Next time I’ll cut it off.” I shove him backward as he splutters, sucking oxygen into deprived lungs.

“Isn’t she just a way to get your revenge?” He asks, cradling his arm, looking fearful as I tower over him. Kneeling, I get to eye level, piercing him with a glower.

“Exactly, Jude,” my voice dropping an octave, nearly a growl. “She’s my revenge. Mine. She’s off-limits to you and anyone else. Let this be a warning to you and the other doms. She is my toy to have, hold, and break. I don’t share.”

“I’ll remember,” he grunts, using his uninjured hand to stand. I follow him, straightening.

“Good,” I snarl, draining my whiskey to the last drop before slamming it down. “Now clean this goddamn mess.” Ignoring his stare, I return to my desk, opening the locked drawer. I reach inside, pulling out the novel sized file labeled: Avery Summers.