Something flickers across his features, gone too quickly for me to name.
"But I won't force that on you,” he continues in a matter-of-fact tone. Like people discuss baby making in contracts all the time. Sure, it happened in the days of monarchs and dynasties. But modern times…
I hold that thought. Who am I to say it doesn't happen today as much as it did in the past. Unions happen for all kinds of reasons and under any number of circumstances.
“When it happens,ifit happens, it will be your choice."
I stare at him. Then yeah, I don’t have to worry about that ever happening. I keep my developing thoughts to myself, but I have to admit the turn of events is not what I expected. This is not the cold, commanding man who stormed into my apartment and told me he owned me last night. The man in front of me has a different vibe about him. I spent all night building myself up to hating this man. Now I want to ask him about his mom and family.
I nudge my glasses back in place and tighten the lid on my escaping emotions. It’s a losing battle it seems, but I try my best to keep them out of my voice when I ask, "I thought that was non-negotiable." I search his face for any signs of a lie or for the crack in the mask that will reveal the monster underneath.
I don't find one. "Last night you made it sound like I didn't have a say."
"Last night I was angry." He says it simply, without excuse or apology. "I saw the bruises on your face and I wanted blood. I should have let Kon pick you up and deliver you to me. Instead I let the adrenaline of the evening take over.” He pauses and doesn’t take his steel eyes off me when he says, “I apologize. I handled it poorly."
I do not know how to handle a man who tells the truth. "That's an understatement," I quip, giving it right back to him.
"Yes." He holds my gaze without flinching. "It is."
I don't know what to do with this. With him. With the way he's looking at me like I'm something worth being careful with instead of something to be used and discarded.
"What changed your mind?"
The question slips out before I can stop it, and I watch his jaw tighten almost imperceptibly.
Drake slips off his jacket and hangs it on the back of his chair. I watch him as he rolls his sleeves up, revealing tanned, thick forearms. He doesn’t say anything for an extended moment to the point I think he’s not going to answer.
But he finally returns to his chair and offers, "I want a family, Katriana." His voice drops lower, rougher, scraping against raw emotions. "But I want that family with someone who wants it too. That's not something I can demand." He pauses, and when he continues, the words seem to cost him something. "I realized it when I saw the disgust on your face. When you compared me to my brother."
Jonah. The name hangs unspoken between us, heavy with all the history between me and him. And then a history between himand his brother that I don't know anything about. Jonah never spoke about his family.
I look down at the contract in my hands. At the numbers that will save my family. At the clause that promises me choice in a world that has given me precious little of it. At the signature line waiting at the bottom like an open mouth.
What else can I do?
I pick up the pen he's placed beside the contract, and I sign my name in peacock blue ink that bleeds into expensive paper–my signature is now a promise I can't take back.
When I look up, something in Drake's demeanor has shifted. He's still commanding, still radiating the kind of power that makes the air feel thicker, but the sharp edge of adversary has softened into something else. He’s not as tight around the shoulders and the creases at the edges of his eyes have also eased. Ditto for the ones across his forehead.
He was worried I wouldn’t sign.
"I need you to understand that you won't be safe going home. You can never leave this building without an escort. Me. Understood?"
“Since I already signed, I guess I don’t have much of a choice on the matter.” I brace myself for him to rip into me and tell me off for my snark, but the edge of his mouth tilts up in an amused smirk instead. I hate that I automatically expect the worse of Drake, but Jonah was a cruel man and left deep scars. Victor and his heavy-handedness didn’t help matter either.
“Glad we are on the same page.” Drake rises from his chair and rounds the desk. I track his movement with the wariness of preywatching a predator circle closer. "Victor knows where you live. As the contract states, you'll be staying here."
"Here." Yes. I understood that. "About that. I believe you and your friends own several apartments that you rent out. Can't I just have one of those?" The more distance between me and this man the better.
Drake stops in front of my chair, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. Close enough that I can smell the torturously delicious scent of his cologne with every inhale. The scent invaded my apartment last night and hasn't left my memory since.
His strong fingers find my chin, tilting my face up with a gentleness that contradicts the steel in his gaze. The touch sends heat racing down my spine, pooling low in my belly where I refuse to acknowledge it.
"With me." His voice is quiet. Absolute. "No exceptions."
For a moment I can't breathe. Can't think. I can only feel the warmth of his fingers against my skin and the weight of his attention pressing down on me like something physical.
Then he releases me and steps back. Air rushes into my lungs like I've been drowning for the time we shared our body heat.
