Fire & Ice ~ The Drake Legacy: Book One (7 page)

Chapter Ten

§

Special Delivery

“So let me get this straight,” Lauren said bluntly, that Thursday night on the phone, “you helped him write a letter?”
 

“That’s right,” I said, holding the phone against my ear with one hand, while digging a forkful of noodles out of my take out container with the other.
 

“A letter asking
another girl
out on a date?”
 

“You got it,” I said, before stuffing the giant ball of chow mien and chicken into my mouth and chewing it loudly.
 

“Does the phrase ‘friend-zoned’ mean anything to you?” she continued.
 

And at this, I couldn’t help but laugh.
 

“Well, I’m glad someone can see the funny side,” she said, obviously laughing herself. “If it was me, I might try and slit my freaking wrists.”

“My plan is just to eat myself to death,” I quipped, before stuffing another large forkful into my mouth.
 

I couldn’t really afford this food; to buy it, I’d broken into the ‘emergency’ twenty that my mom always made me carry around in the bottom of my purse, folded into a tight little square, just in case I ever found myself in a scary neighborhood, short of the cab fare home. I’d figured my favorite comfort food — Chinese take out — was more important than my personal safety right now.
 

“Hey, well listen …” Lauren began, but just then her voice was interrupted by the doorbell.
 

“Hold on just a minute,” I said, setting my container of noodles down on the coffee table and dragging myself over to the door, dressed in my old dressing gown, my hair mussed up and ratty, the phone still cradled to my ear.
 

I opened the door, half expecting my crazy
 
landlady perhaps, but instead, standing before me was a kindly-looking gent who was dressed like a chauffeur; a shirt, red waistcoat, black dress pants, and matching hat. In his hand, he held a small brown paper package.
 

“Delivery for Miss Cassie Lawrence,” he said in a distinguished voice.
 

“That’s me,” I said, puzzled.
 

“What’s going on?” Lauren chirped in my ear.
 

“I’ll call you back,” I replied, hanging up on her, feeling a strange flutter of excitement in my stomach as I took the package out of his hands.
 

What
was
going on?

I couldn’t quite make sense of it.
 

The kindly old gent winked at me, bowed, then began to head off down the corridor.
 

“Thanks!” I called after him, still puzzled, before closing the door and heading once more towards the couch, shaking my head in amazement. I put down the phone, then carefully began to tear open the brown paper. Inside the parcel were two things. The first was a red envelope, and the second was a delicate purple jewelry box.
 

I opened the envelope first.

Dear Miss Lawrence,
it read,
I would like to cordially invite you to be my guest at a charity fundraising event tomorrow evening, Friday the 18
th
of October, at The Excelsior Hotel …
 

The words began to swim around on the page and my heart started pounding and thudding like never before.
 

I noticed that he’d written his cellphone number in beautiful handwriting at the bottom of the note, too. I turned to the jewelry case, and with trembling fingers carefully prized it open, and there, glittering on a bed of plush purple velvet, was the exact same delicate silver necklace that I’d tried on in the jewelers!
 

“Holy
shit
,” I blurted out loud to the empty room, my head spinning so fast I though I might pass out.
 

I carefully put the note and the necklace down on the coffee table, then picked up the phone once more.
 

“So?” Lauren said, once I’d punched in her number. “Who was it? What was all that about?”

“You’ll never believe me …” I said, before screaming with excitement.
 

§

I called Xander a little later, once I’d finished up on the phone to Lauren and fixed myself a stiff drink (vodka and diet coke) to calm down. Even so, my heart was still absolutely pounding and I just prayed that my voice didn’t sound too shaky or nervous when I finally spoke to him.
 

“Hello?” he answered, almost immediately, as if he’d been waiting by the phone.
 

My eyes quickly darted to the clock on the wall. I hope I hadn’t woken him up. No, no, it was only nine forty-five.
 

“Hey, it’s me,” I said. Then, “Cassie,” as if he still might not be able to guess.
 

“Oh, hey!” he replied, a new warmth opening up in his voice.
 

“I got your package …”
 

“And?”
 

I don’t know why but I left a dramatic pause; there was something so exciting and delicious about keeping him hanging like that. I put my hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and listened to the soft sound of his breathing and wondered where exactly he was in his apartment, what he was doing, what he looked like, right at that very moment …
 

I imagined him wearing only a pair of black silk boxer shorts, standing in the middle of a sleekly furnished bachelor pad somewhere on the top floor of one of his own developments. It was so crazy to think that
I
was able to make him excited, to keep him hanging on like this …

“I’d love to go with you,” I said, eventually, unable to keep the words held back any longer.
 

He exhaled and began to laugh with relief.
 

“Phew! I was starting to worry you would say no!”

“No, no,” I admitted, “I just wanted to keep you on your toes.”

“Well, it certainly worked! Okay, great. Well, listen. You’ll probably need a little time to get ready; the ball is from seven and I don’t want you having to worry about work tomorrow. So, seeing as it’s still your first week and you’ve done so great already … Why not take the whole of tomorrow off to get ready and I’ll send a car to pick you up about six-thirty? Sound good?”
 

“That sounds great,” I said, truthfully.
 

“Fantastic. And just to reiterate, I’m so glad you’ve said yes, Cassie,” he murmured, that same urgency returning in his voice as before.
 

“Me too,” I replied, absolutely unable to play it cool any longer. “I can’t quite believe this is happening …”

“Oh, just wait ’til tomorrow!” he said.
 

And then, just like that, there was the click of the receiver at the other end of the line, and I was left standing there in my dowdy old dressing gown once again, in my tatty old apartment, wondering if that phone call had even actually happened.
 

I flopped down onto the once more, my eye absent-mindedly drifting over to the Chinese food container, which was still over half-full. No more of that for me! I thought.
 

Instead, I picked up my cell phone and began composing a text to Lauren:
 

Please say ur free tomoro nite? I think I’m gonna need your help …

Chapter Eleven

§

Waiting for Perfect

“You owe me for this!” Lauren said, as we headed to the upper level of the mall, but I could tell from the big grin on her face that she was enjoying herself, possibly even more than me.

We’d already booked me in for a haircut, and now we were on the lookout for a suitably elegant dress to go with my new necklace — and best of all, Lauren was giving me an advance on my first month’s paycheck. Otherwise, I’d never have been able to afford any of this stuff.
 

“I just hope,” she continued, as we pushed our way through the throng of crowds and into the busy, bustling clothes store and made for the evening wear department, “that you’ll do the same for me when
my
handsome billionaire comes along!”
 

“
Naturally,
darling,” I said in my best Liz Taylor impression.
 

“And you won’t forget to invite me, the next time you go out cruising on his private yacht, right?”

“I think we’re getting a little a head of ourselves here,” I said, being the one as always to return to real life. “Let’s just take things one step at a time …”

I could feel a growing knot of nerves in my stomach, and with each little preparation we made for the evening, I was beginning to feel more and more terrified. I just hoped I would be able to go through with it. For a brief moment, my mind cast back to my own senior prom, which felt like a lifetime ago now:
 

I’d been asked on a date by Bobby Darren, a sweet, shy blonde boy with a peach fuzz mustache and a croaky, reedy voice who always hung out with the math geeks at the far corner of the cafeteria; he was the only guy to ask.
 

I’d said yes, but secretly wished I was going with Dane Cooper, the star quarter back — not that I’d have had a chance with him.
 

Well, anyway, the night of the prom came around, this was back when my Dad was still alive, and when I’d had a sudden lurch of nerves on the night of the prom, he’d come up to my room to have a little talk with me.
 

“Does he make you feel special?” he had
 
asked me in his low, warm voice, sitting there on the end of my bed and smiling gently at me.
 

“I’m not sure, Daddy,” I’d replied.
 

“There’s no shame in waiting for perfect, you know,” he’d whispered with a grin, winking at me wisely.
 

And ever since, I’d taken this little message to heart.
 

I was ‘waiting for perfect’ and deep down, that’s what I suspected Xander might be.
 

“Cassie? Cassie?” Lauren said, bringing me once again crashing back to real life. “How about this?”
 

She picked up a slinky black evening dress with flashing, glittering sequin patterns, and held it up to me, stepping back a little and closing one eye to take in the full picture. Then she nodded, as if satisfied that it was the right dress for me.
 

“I don’t know,” I said, unsure.
 

“At least try it on …”

As we were heading over to the changing room, we passed the underwear section, and Lauren stopped me and grabbed my arm.
 

“Oh wow! These are gorgeous!” she squealed, picking up a matching red bra and g-string set.
 

The g-string looked absolutely
tiny
and I felt a blush of prudish embarrassment rise to my cheeks at the thought of Xander seeing me in something like that; something so out-and-out
sexy
.
 

“I … I don’t think it matters what underwear I have on,” I stammered. “I mean, I’m not expecting things to go
that
far … Am I?”

“What are you
talking
about?” Lauren exclaimed, a naughty expression spreading across her gleeful face. “You should
totally
be expecting things to get that far. Why else do you think he’s invited you?!”

And at this, I felt another huge jolt of nerves.
 

“Okay then,” I said, grabbing the bra and panties too, and taking them, along with the dress, in the direction of the changing rooms.
 

§

I was just stepping out of the taxi cab home when I saw a familiar red Nissan parked outside my apartment building.
Oh God, not tonight
, I thought, feeling something sink in my stomach.
 

I lugged my shopping bags up the central staircase and sure enough, waiting outside the door to my apartment, sitting on her black wheeled suitcase, was my mother.
 

“Surprise!” she said, standing up and holding out her arms. Her big chestnut eyes shone with happiness and I noticed that her hair large puffy hair had been recently dyed, a lovely autumnal auburn red. I had to admit it, she looked good for her age.
 

We hugged tightly and I smelled that familiar old lavender perfume that she’d always worn, ever since pretty much forever.
 

I fumbled the key out of my purse, still in a state of shock about her unexpected visit, and then we both went inside.
 

“Oh my, Cassie!” she tutted, when she saw the extent of my messy apartment; all those dirt takeout food containers and rumpled clothes strewn everywhere. “This place is a pigsty!” she exclaimed. “This is worse than your room, back when you were a teenager!”
 

“Well, I wasn’t exactly given much of a warning that you were coming …”

I turned to frown at her, but she was smiling so kindly at me, I couldn’t stay mad for long.
 

“Oh dear, I just thought it would be a shame to leave you alone this weekend … That’s all …”

“Why?” I said. “What’s so special about
this
weekend?”
 

At first I honestly didn’t know what she was referring to.
 

And then, just like that, it hit me like a ton of bricks: this coming Saturday was the anniversary of my father’s death.
 

I felt my face crumple and it was like all the pain and shock of it came flooding back at me again, fresh as the day it first happened.
 

“Oh dear, I didn’t mean to upset you, my love,” Mom said, stepping in quickly and wrapping me up once more in her big warm arms.
 

“It’s fine,” I said, drying my eyes on her soft knitted sweater. “I’d just kind of forgotten, what with the new job and everything …”

“That’s okay, dear,” she said. “Now, let me put the kettle on and I’ll make us a nice cup of tea … If you have any teabags, that is? Tell me there’s still a bit of English girl left in you?”