Chapter 5: Avery & Drake

AVERY

I adjust the straps of my black dress before throwing the jacket over my shoulders. I glance at myself in the mirror; the wig secured to hide my brunette locks. I walk through a spritz of perfume before going into the main room where Davina is curled up on the couch. She’s wrapped in a cozy blanket, with a steaming coffee in her hand. A travel mug sitting on the table meant for me.

“Damn, look at you!” She exclaims, setting her cup down on the table. “Men in that office are going to flock around your desk.”

“Davina,” I shake my head, rolling my eyes at her. “I’m there to work, not sleep with the boss.”

“I said nothing about Drake Winters.” her sly smile and wink make my cheeks flush with sudden embarrassment. “It’s called multitasking, Aves. What’s hotter than a forbidden office romance?” She asks innocently. “Nothing.”

“This job is only a means to an end.” I dash her wild fantasies about my sex life out the window. My phone beeps, but I ignore it. The only person who would text me at six a.m is standing across from me.

“Are you sure you want to ignore that?” Davina asks, smirking. To appease her, I rummage in my purse until my fingers wrap around the cell phone. An unknown number sitting on the screen. Who the hell has my number?

Garage. Five minutes. Don’t be late - Drake

I stare at the words, heart racing with….excitement? God, what the hell is wrong with me? My reactions to him involuntary, skin turning hot with scandalous desires. The kind romance novels depict, but I have never understood. Davina peeks over my shoulder reading the screen.

“I vote being late,” her suggestion contradictory while she’s pushing me out the door. “I wonder what his punishments are like. You’ll have to tell me.”

“Shut up,” I scowl, grabbing the travel mug she prepared for me, while she’s herding me away. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Go, go!” she commands. “I’ll be fine.” She’s speedy, the latch clicking into place behind me. Not as eager to find out about his punishments, I hurry along. Keeping my head down, I avoid others, traveling through the apartment complex until I reach the garage. The only place in this building I have never been to.

My footsteps echo in the concrete dome, a black limo and its driver the first to greet me. “Ms. Summers,” he waves, gesturing me inside. I nod in thanks before climbing in, the male figure occupying the other seat unmistakable. His cologne coats the space, spicy, and distinctly masculine.

“Avery,” he growls in greeting. The moment we are alone, his stare shoots daggers, every cell aware of his presence. The heat from his body awakening inner demons. “Were you planning on disobeying me the whole day?”

“No,” I meet his stare without him asking, my confidence and defiant attitude soaring around him. What is it about him that makes me want to push his buttons? “Only to a certain point.”

“And at what point would you listen?” he asks, his palm going to my knee, squeezing lightly. The heat from our contact liquefying my insides. My stomach doing somersaults, thighs clenching, his nails digging in until little imprints are in my flesh.

“When I had to,” I answer, hoping he doesn’t notice how breathless I am. Oxygen is hard to find with his looming figure invading my space and every thought.

“Well, I have to see you now,” he leans, his chest brushing along my arm. His hand moving up my leg. It’s barely an inch, but enough for me to react in unknown ways. “So why is the wig still on, Avery?”

“Because I want it to be.” I shrug my shoulder, his grip pinching, slightly uncomfortable but not painful. It shouldn’t be, but it’s a thrill, stoking a fire of insatiable need. His onyx eyes find mine before he leans over. His lips against my ear, rubbing against the delicate area, while his words slide like honey.

“Are you going to be bratty all day, Avery?” His thumb dragging along my skin forcing goosebumps to form. “Because if you are, I might as well put you over my knee and show you why that’s a bad idea.”

I jerk back at his response, his chuckle dark and tantalizing when I know it shouldn’t be. He taps into a part of me I did not know existed, the primal side I avoid, but he brings it all to the surface. “Avery?” His voice has an edge, patience wearing thin, and the devil in me wants to resist just to….

Shaking my head, I clear the intrusive ideas. Sighing in defeat, I tug the wig off, removing the nylon cap and bobby pins. Holding it, I am about to throw it into my bag for tomorrow, when it’s yanked from my grip. Drake tosses it out the window, not caring when it lands in the city streets. The urge to protest silenced by one look from him.

His hand stays on my thigh, his thumb tracing small circles, making my insides squirm with anticipation. I look out the window, needing to focus on anything other than the heat spreading from my thighs. His free hand gripping my chin, turning me to face him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Winters.” I exhale, my breathing shallow, grateful that he cannot how I react to him and his touch. That the wetness coating my silk panties is undetectable. He releases my chin, but his hand stays on my knee, his stare piercing and debilitating.

The limo stops, the door suddenly wide open, the bustle of New Yorkers absent, but even if they were, it wouldn’t matter. Being near him is like being sucked into a vortex. I try holding onto anything to stay grounded, but it’s impossible. Nothing exists outside these leather seats and his onyx irises.

“Will you let go of my knee now?” It’s my futile attempt to be brave, like he has no hold, but God, help me, he does.

His smirk chilling, daunting, and a million other things I should run from but can’t. “I would have let go at any point,” he releases me, and I already miss the pressure from his touch. “All you had to do was ask Avery.”

“Oh,” but it’s more of a squeak, his response not what I expected from a man like him. A man who gets what he wants when he wants it. He nods past me, to the driver patiently waiting for us to leave, and I remember where we are.

I slide along the leather seats until my feet land against the concrete floor. Drake isn’t far behind, his long legs allowing him to catch up easily, a possessive hand along my back. I quicken my pace, hoping it’ll naturally fall away. Unfortunately, he maintains, matching my pace easily. We approach the elevator, which requires a fingerprint, the doors only working when they have the correct ones.

We step inside, Drake choosing the floor, the music only starting when we ascend. “Do you have to touch me?” I break into the silence, the constant contact making my hormones run crazy. Even with the fabric and layers, his hand scorches my skin. Each movement of his fingers makes me quiver, my legs shaking. I swear I’ll faint from over exposure to him, and his aura if I don’t get away soon.

“Yes,” he growls, “I enjoy touching what’s mine.” That’s all it takes to break the spell, his declaration a heavy dose of reality. Of course, he’d think I am his property just because he gives me a paycheck. I am growing tired of men assuming I am theirs just because they declare it to be so.

“I’m not yours,” each word clipped, my annoyance clear from my icy cold stare. His hand travels up my spine, underneath my hair till he is gripping the base of my skull.

“Are you sure about that, Avery?” He laughs, as if what I said was the most absurd thing he’d heard in years.

“Yes,” I stand my ground, “I am not yours.” I repeat, like saying it again will make it believable. Truth be told, I am not so sure I do. Everything about this man revives a hunger I hadn’t acknowledged…ever. One I had let die a slow and painful death. Pretending to be braver than I am, I continue enforcing my boundaries.

“Oh, darling,” he growls, releasing me, my blood rushing to my head. “You are mine, you just haven’t realized yet.”

The urge to look at him is intense, but I fight the yearning to twist in his direction. His snickers don’t escape my notice, but I stare straight ahead, pretending the silver reflection is the most interesting thing I have seen.

His stare turns my skin pink, but I don’t break, keeping my composure until the doors open. I follow him into the hallway that leads to the offices. No one greets us, but every eye in the bullpen is trailing us as we walk through. No one utters a word, the only noise is our heels against the marble floors.

Instead of going to the elevators we stop at an empty desk a few feet from the entrance. Jude is waiting there, his left hand wrapped in white bandages. “What happened to you?” I ask, not thinking twice, but he barely looks at me. He ignores me as if I hadn’t asked him a question.

“He touched something that wasn’t his, but I’m sure he’s learned his lesson and won’t do it again,” Drake answers for his friend. A secret passing between them I do not understand.

“Oh, definitely,” he nods, but still won’t glance in my direction. His energy hurried, and slightly anxious, especially when I pay attention to him. “Uh, Drake, your file is here.” That’s when I notice the manilla folder he is waving in the air.

“Go up,” Drake commands. “I’ll be there in a moment.” His attention is back on me, waving at the desk beside us. “This is your new home. Settle in, and don’t bother me unless it’s necessary or I request you.”

“Yes, Mr. Winters,” I wander behind, setting my bag and coffee mug down, taking a seat in the chair. He watches me for a moment longer before disappearing. A sticky note on the monitor provides me access to the computer. I log in, familiarizing myself with Drake’s calendar and the files saved to the hard drive. Once that’s done, I work on the paper files, ensuring that they’re organized using my system.

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

The concentration I have maintained for the last several hours dwindling with the coffee in my cup. Standing my muscles are grateful for the change in position while I stretch. I wander the office, getting myself familiar with the space. Learning where the copier is, the restrooms, supply closet, and the break room, which is the last stop in my exploration.

High tech vending machines sit inside holding various snacks, ranging from fruits and vegetables to cold sandwiches. A coffee machine and an espresso maker sit on the counter. Another coworker, around my age is weighing his food options, so I brew myself an espresso.

“You know how to use that?” the stranger asks, awe in his voice as he watches me mess with the machine. “Because the other employees have been trying all morning, and no one could figure it out.”

“Oh, yeah, would you like one?” I nod, moving so that he can see what I am doing. First, I grind the whole beans into the filter, using the metal tamper to pack it in tightly. Once I am sure it is perfect, I attach to the machine, press start, and watch it brew.

“How’d you know how to do that?” the man asks, his voice calm and friendly. He is handsome, with his brunette hair and charming smile, but other than that I feel…nothing. “Work at a coffee shop in college?”

“No,” I shake my head, correcting him. “I have this same one in my apartment.”

“Oh,” he nods, his entire demeanor changing from friendly to suddenly anxious. It’s what happens when people figure out how rich you are, or in my case, use to living. “Sorry, my name is Brian. You are?” He reaches out to shake, and I return the favor.

“Avery,” I say, my finger wrapping around a clammy hand, and somehow I feel less alone. I only allow the contact to last seconds before dropping his hand. “How long have you been working here?” I make conversation, still waiting for the machine to finish.

“About a month,” he gets the paper cups, placing them on the counter. “I like it. You’re new too, right? Started today?”

“Yes, as Mr. Winters’ assistant,” even saying that aloud does things to me I can’t describe. God, I really need to get my shit together if I am going to survive. The brewing finally stops, allowing me to free the pitcher and pour into the cups set out.

Once they’re even, we pick them up, clinking in a mini celebration. Tipping back the paper cup, I welcome the bitterness on my taste buds.

The warm liquid sliding down my throat into my stomach, giving me the small jolt I need to go a few hours longer.

“Can I buy you a snack or something?” he asks, pointing out the machines. “You know as a really crappy thank you?”

“That sounds great,” I chuckle softly, tucking my hair, joining him next to the selections. Davina’s advice from earlier springing to mind. Maybe an office romance wouldn’t be so bad after all?

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

DRAKE

I take the folder, breaking open the seal, removing the contents. I flip through the pictures, all taken from different ranges by my private investigator. The focus is Hayden Smith. In each one, Jane, the escort I pay, stands beside him. It’s nice knowing she is money well spent. The more he gets his dick wet with her, the more he trusts her, and the more secrets he’ll spill.

“I’m surprised you left her downstairs,” Jude comments, interrupting my calculations and plans. “The men downstairs were practically drooling.”

I don’t flinch, pretending that I’m unbothered by his comment. “Avery will be fine.” I throw the papers onto my desk, turning to him. “Now go away. I have a busy morning.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” He smirks, turning on his heel, calling over his shoulder. He goes the way we came, leaving me in peace. The moment my bottom hits the office chair his unsolicitated observations make their way into my thoughts. I push them away, focusing on the pile of work I have.

Every few seconds, Jude’s remarks creep back in, distracting me enough that my gaze flicks to the computer screen constantly. Shaking my head, I return to my tasks, fighting the urges I have. Twenty agonizing minutes have passed, my paranoia spiking, fingers clacking against the keyboard. I login, pulling up the security camera feed. The image showing the assistant desk Avery now claims as her own.

I breathe easier seeing her working alone, settling back into my paperwork. Every few minutes, my attention flick to the screen, and this goes on for nearly five hours. Sometimes I’d pause and watch her work, finding her concentration fascinating. Every time I looked she was in the same spot until she wasn’t, forcing me to nearly have a heart attack.

I curb the urge to hunt her down, remaining patient instead, my paperwork easily forgotten while I focus on the screen. Five minutes pass, then ten, and by the fifteenth I am on my feet pacing behind my office chair. Impatience and possessiveness crash through my bloodstream, turning me into a raging mess.

I storm to the elevator, getting to the lower level within seconds. Employees dodging me, and my pissy attitude like I’m a bomb ready to detonate. I feel like one, the pressure in my blood rising with each second I don’t find her. My feet halt outside the break room when the most melodious laugh exits, sending chills down my spine.

Slowing, I stand in the entryway, her back facing me, so she doesn’t notice me lurking, watching, and waiting. Across the table sits a new hire, maybe a year or two older than Avery. My glare piercing, forcing him to acknowledge my presence, and quickly. I enjoy witnessing his pupils dilate with shock, then fear, his demeanor shifting until the conversation dies.

She still hasn’t moved, eating her salad as if nothing happened. As if the prepubescent boy sitting there didn’t stop talking mid-sentence. The bratty little shit knows I am here, and her nonreaction nettles me endlessly. My blood pressure riled until I am practically steaming. My fingertips itching to spank her raw for blatant insubordination. Have her ass cheeks pink and welted from the impact of my punishments.

Unable to take another second of her ignoring me, I snap like a twig.

“Avery,” my glare doesn’t leave the other employee. The boy squirms uncomfortably under my glare and I thrive on it, his fear fueling the darkness within. “Who is your friend?”