Fire & Ice ~ The Drake Legacy: Book One (6 page)

I picked up my glass again, lifted it to my lips, took a large gulp, tilting the delicate glass object, gulping down the rest of my drink in one long draught.
 

“Let’s go,” I said.
 

There was something odd about that guy; something I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I knew that he was trouble, and I wasn’t hanging around to find out what kind.
 

§

I got into my apartment, kicked off my shoes, hung my coat up on the hook by the door and walked tipsily through to the bedroom. I could see the little red light flashing on my answer phone, and knew that, more likely than not, it would be my mother: calling once again to pester me or nag me about one thing or another, asking whether I was done with my ‘little adventure’ in the city yet. I lazily pressed the play button on the answer phone as I began to unzip my dress.
 

“You have one new message …” the robotic voice chimed out into the room.
 

I tugged on my zipper.
 

“Left today at seven forty nine p.m. …”

I let my dress fall to the floor.
 

“Oh, hi Cassie, it’s me …”

Hearing the voice, a delicious flash of excitement jolted through me. What the hell! It was Xander! I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing. I stood there, frozen, in the centre of my bedroom, clad only in my underwear, my dress now laying in a rumpled circle at my feet. What in the world did he want, and why was he calling me at my home?

“… I know it’s not exactly professional, calling you at home like this,” he continued, as if able to read my thoughts. “Only … Well …” There was a long pause, during which I could hear soft music playing in his apartment. I wondered what it was like. Sleek and designer, I imagined. A penthouse, built by his own company, perhaps. With an expansive view of the city. “… Never mind.”
 

And then, just like that, there was a muffled click and the message ended.

“To repeat this message, press one,” the robotic voice said. “To delete it, press two.”

I pressed one, and listened to it again. There was an intensity, an urgency to his voice that took my breath away and made my pulse race in my veins. I wondered just what he could have wanted to tell me and I wondered
why
he suddenly felt like he couldn’t continue.
 

It made no sense.
 

I desperately wished I knew his home number.
 

This was ridiculous.
 

I played the message a third time, then unclipped my bra, stepped out of my panties and got into my bed, shivering a little, feeling the coolness of the bedsheets against my naked body, wishing I had another warm body —
his
warm, naked body — to cling to.
 

I shut off my bedside light and lay there in the dark, my head spinning, Xander’s deep, intense, intoxicating, sonorous voice swirling around my brain, and once again I let my hands caress and explore my own body.
 

Almost instinctively, my fingertips moved to my breasts, my nipples stiffening as I toyed gently with them, and then I moved my touch down, over my stomach, towards the glistening, gooey wetness of my sex.
 

My clit was hard and throbbing already and I worked it in tight little circles, as I imagined Xander turning up at my door, out of breath, that same intense urgency in his eyes that I had heard just now in his voice.
 

I imagined tearing the clothes off him, uncovering his rippling, naked flesh beneath, slicked and hot with his own salty sweat, which I kissed and licked off him eagerly, working my face slowly down his toned stomach, his rock-hard abs, towards his hot thick cock, which I gripped and gently masturbated in both hands, before closing my mouth gently around it.
 

I’d never let a guy come in my mouth before, and for some reason,
this
was the fantasy I let play out as I brought myself to orgasm: I imagined working Xander’s shaft with my fingers, while keeping my lips clamped around his cock head, feeling it swell, hearing him groan with pleasure, and then, finally, feeling him spurt his hot, thick cum into my mouth.
 

Just as I imagined him filling up my mouth with his fluid, I came too with a muffled whimper, my pussy throbbing and clenching around my wet fingers.
 

A little later, as I began drifting towards a delicious sleep, another face suddenly entered my thoughts and I jolted back awake:
 

Just for a brief moment, I once again saw the burning eyes of that stranger in the white suit, the one who’d been staring at me in the wine bar. Who in the hell was he? And
why
was he looking at me that way?
 

Chapter Nine

§

Swallowing My Pride

I spent the following morning a complete bundle of nerves, waiting to see Xander, hoping that I would find out, finally, what his urgent, breathy answer phone message had been all about. But instead he seemed to be avoiding me. He’d strode straight past me first thing in the morning, giving me just the briefest, most businesslike of nods, and then, a few hours later on, he came bursting out of the office again in a hurry, talking away about complicated constructional matters on his cellphone.
 

That was all I’d seen of him.
 

Lunch came around and once again, I ate it sitting at my desk. Today, all I’d packed for myself was a granary health bar and a kid’s size juice box. Staring down at the meagre offerings, it was a far cry from our delicious lunch date earlier in the week, and I tried not to think about that juicy cheeseburger, in case it made my tummy rumble again.
 

I looked around me at the large open plan office; over at the other side of the big grey room, I could hear the muffled chatter of the other staff, working away at their computer terminals, and I realized with a pang of dismay that I’d still not really been introduced to anyone other than Xander.
 

All of a sudden, I felt like I was stranded out here on my own, bobbing away in the deep waters without a life jacket, and I had the distinct feeling that they were probably all thinking I was just some stupid, silly bimbo, hired more for her looks than her secretarial and organizational skills.
 

At this thought, I decided to knuckle down and work hard; to show them that I was the right person for this job, despite my looks and my accent.
 

I had been planning to color code the diary entries and tidy up the database a little, to make things much easier for Xander — and me — to keep track of all his various different types of appointments.
 

So with a new vigor, I threw myself into my work and before I knew it, most of the afternoon had flown on by. I was still busy typing away, when I was interrupted by a loud buzzing sound, one that I rarely if ever heard. I looked up, puzzled, trying to locate where this odd sound was coming from. Then the little antique intercom speaker to my left crackled into life and out of it came Xander’s voice.
 

“Uh, Cassie? Do you mind coming in here for a moment?”
 

I pressed the little red button beneath the speaker and leaned in to reply.
 

I’d thought that the intercom was just there as a kind of joke; an echo of the kind of offices of old, like you’d see in TV shows about ad executives and such like.
 

“Sure,” I said, chirpily, getting up from my desk and taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, before turning and pushing open the heavy wood door to Xander’s office.
 

He was standing with his back to me, overlooking the sprawling, glinting buildings perhaps watching the a crane that was swinging its heavy concrete and steel load, no doubt another Glacis Inc building project that Xander himself was helming.
 

“Hi,” I said, hearing the obvious tremble in my voice … I hoped to God that he couldn’t hear it too.
 

He turned, smiled briefly, then headed over to his desk and took a seat.
 

I took this as my cue to do the same.
 

“Sorry about my rather garbled answer phone message last night,” he said, not quite making eye contact with me as he spoke, instead concerning himself with his fingernails.
 

I felt my heart begin to pound.
 

My mouth went dry, and when I opened it to speak, no sound came out, and I realized my head had gone blank.
 

“Th-that’s okay,” I croaked, eventually.
 

“I just wanted to ask you something that … well … maybe isn’t particularly work related. If you know what I mean?”

He looked so shy and boyish, still not quite able to look me in the eye, his cheeks very possibly starting to blush … Was I just imagining it? Or was Xander Drake
embarrassed
?
 

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I don’t mind. You can ask me anything you like.”

The suggestion — the sexual suggestion — was clear in my voice. My whole body was trembling with nerves. I had no idea what he was planning to ask me, but in that moment I felt like I would have said yes to
anything
…
 

“Oh good,” he mumbled, the red blush spreading even further across his stubbly cheeks. “You see, there’s someone I want to ask to that silly ball thing on Friday night, you know the one? And, well, the thing is, I don’t quite know how …”

I’d been looking at at that event in Xander’s calendar just moments previously: a glitzy private fundraising ball, for a number of wealthy patrons, contractors and other big-hitters in the development and construction business. The ball was being held at the function room of The Excelsior, an exclusive and sprawling five-star hotel on the other side of the city, right up in the hills. There were plenty of juicy rumors revolving around the debauchery that went on between the rich and famous patrons of The Excelsior that went back as long and as far as anyone could remember.
 

Just then, a thought came to me - an icy cold realization that caused my stomach to jolt with shock and surprise.
 

“It’s the girl you bought the necklace for, isn’t it?” I said, surprising myself with my own forthrightness and candor. “
That’s
who you want to invite, isn’t it?”
 

Xander’s blush spread even further across his face, and he looked away and swallowed, brushing a lock of glossy black hair from his narrowed, smoldering eyes.
 

“Yes, Cassie,” he said, very quietly. “If you must know, yes it is. I’ve met someone I like. Someone very special. And I want to invite her to the ball. But the thing is, I just don’t know how to say it. So I thought that
you
might be able to help me choose the right words … You see, I might be good at somethings, but I’m absolutely dreadful at others. And when it comes to affairs of the heart. Well, let’s just say, I’m pretty useless at knowing what the right thing to do is … ”

At this, he stood up and turned, facing away from me once more, looking out over the vast sprawl and mis-matched architecture of the city.
 

“But if you would prefer not to help me,” he continued, “then I’ll duly understand. It’s not exactly in your job description to help your boss out with his non-existent love life.”

There was a quiet, tender sadness in his voice and I realized then just how much this must mean to him. What a selfish bitch I’d been. Once more, I’d let my
own
silly hopes and dreams get in the way of the bigger picture — here was a powerful, exclusive man, reaching out to
me
, to regular old Cassie Lawrence, for help with an intensely personal and private matter, and instead of taking it as an honor and a compliment that he’d chosen me as his confidant, I had instead felt angry that it wasn’t
me
he was chasing after.
 

Which was, after all, just a silly little schoolgirl crush, wasn’t it?
 

I mean, come on.
 

Could I
really
have expected him to fall for someone like me? No. Of course not.
 

But if I had any sense of kindness and fairness, I would swallow my own pride, and try my best to help out this kind, sweet, lost man — be a friend to him, because it seemed clear to me then that
that
was what he dearly needed.
 

He’d been reaching out for friendship: for the kindness and warmth and gentle care that only a woman can provide. And so, in that tender moment, I decided to put to one side my own pride and help him with his problem.
 

“Of course I’ll help, Mr Drake,” I said solemnly.

At this he span round to face me, and his features lit up in delight.
 

“Great” he said, smiling. “Let’s get to work!”

§

And so, for the final hour that day, Xander paced up and down his office and I sat at the desk taking down his thoughts, offering my occasional suggestions and guidance, until, between us, we’d composed a letter to this mysterious woman of his.
 

Here is what we came up with:
 

Dear Miss Blank
(he refused to tell me her name)
,

I would like to cordially invite you to be my guest at a charity fundraising event, at 8pm tomorrow evening, Friday the 18
th
of October, at The Excelsior Hotel.
 

As you may come to learn about me, I’m never very good at these kinds of letters, and so to spare you further embarrassment, I will keep this epistle brief, but before I sign off, I would just like to tell you that I think you are absolutely fantastic and I would be honored beyond words if you would agree to be my date to the ball.

I look forward to your reply,
 

Xander Drake