Tate whistled. “Lamborghini Murciélago. Isn’t this the same car Bruce Wayne drove inBatman Begins?”
Drake flashed a smile. “Yes. That’s why I bought it. Murciélago means bat in Spanish.”
Tate laughed. “You remind me of Batman. I bet you have a Bat Cave.”
“I call it the Battle Cave.”
My brother smirked. “Of course you do, Richie Rich.”
I knew little about comic books or what car the character drove. But who didn’t know Batman? Tate collected figurines and comic books as a kid. One Christmas, our mother could afford two presents each. She bought my brother Batman pajamas and a comic book.
“It’s a two-seater,” Drake said to my brother. “You get in first. Liv can sit on your lap.”
I loved that he was already using my nickname like he’d known me for years. Drake was so comfortable around us, which helped my brother and me to lower our guard.
Tate climbed into the passenger seat and rubbed his hand across the dashboard. “Sick ride, man. You’re so lucky.”
Drake placed me on my brother’s lap and slid the seatbelt across my chest. “What’s mine is yours now.”
Before either of us could respond, he shut the door, sealing us inside the expensive car. The sweet scent of Drake’s cologne and leather filled my nostrils. I closed my eyes and committed this moment to memory in case Drake changed his mind about us.
The fancy sports car had little room. So, I rode through Beacon Bay with my head mashed against the roof. With the window open, the saltwater breeze floated in from the bay. I stuck my head out the window and took a deep breath.
It smelled of freedom.
When I turned my head, Drake was staring at me, a smile plastered on his face. He was so handsome and perfect that he took my breath away. It was at that moment I knew he would break my heart.
But I didn’t care.
Drake flew through Beacon Bay and floored the gas up a steep hill that led to Devil’s Creek. Of course, he lived here. All the Connecticut billionaires owned mansions in Devil’s Creek.
My heart raced as Drake stopped at a guarded gate. The glass house beyond the wrought iron stood tall and proud, overlooking the water several hundred feet below the cliff side. You couldn’t see much beyond the high walls.
“My friends call this place the Battle Fortress,” Drake said with laughter in his tone. “But I call it home. And now, you do too.”
Armed men dressed in suits carried guns and blocked the entrance. When they saw Drake, they opened the gate and nodded.
“This isn’t a home,” Tate said in disbelief at the sprawling mansion. “It’s a compound. And why do you need so much security?”
Drake clutched the steering wheel and sighed. “In my line of work, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“What exactly is your line of work?”
Ignoring my brother’s question, Drake rolled down his window to speak to a man with light gray hair. “Ryan, this is Tate and Olivia. They’re moving into the house. Treat them as you would me.”
Hands behind his back, Ryan bobbed his head. “Yes, sir.”
Drake thanked the man and parked in front of the three-story glass-and-metal mansion, which looked like something from an architectural magazine.
Growing up, I rarely had my own bedroom. Only when my mother lived in the high-rise in the city. After that, we bounced between shitty apartments and dilapidated houses. My last foster home was decent, but I shared a room with two other girls.
“This is too modern to be a family home,” Tate said, shaking his head. “It reminds me of Tony Stark’s mansion in the Iron Man movies.”
I nodded. “Yeah, it does.”
Besides the main house, the property included four other buildings. He also had three massive garages full of exotic cars, SUVs, and what I assumed were the vehicles of his employees.
“Will your family be okay with our living here?” I asked, my throat raw and scratchy.
