Authors: Pamela Ann
Chapter Twenty-Four
It was the lulling sound of the waves that made me aware that I wasn’t sleeping in my bedroom in midtown Manhattan, and a quick glance at the window told me that the storm had finally arrived. I had no recollection of getting out of the car, let alone getting myself to bed with the same clothes I’d had on yesterday.
Getting out of bed, I was about to come out of the bedroom when Drew came barging in, catching us both by surprise.
“You’re up,” he stated.
“I am.” Pausing, I glanced toward the window again before glancing back at him. “So, um, did I miss Thanksgiving?”
“No, actually, that’s what I came to tell you. They’re expecting us in an hour at the main house.”
“Main house?” Looking around, I realized this place was too masculine, too manly to be the same mansion, so this had to be somewhere around the estate.
“We’re in a bungalow half a mile from the main house. This is where I stay when I’m back here. I like having my own privacy, a hard feat in the big house.”
I gave a quick nod, as if I understood. It did give me a glimpse of his relationship with his father. Drew might still be playing family with them, but he was keeping a little distance as a precaution.
“I’ll be ready in forty-five. Is that okay?”
“Of course. Come down when you’re ready.”
Based on his birthday party, jeans or tights wouldn’t work with these folks. I should thank my lucky stars that I’d had the sense to pack the dress I had snagged from the shoot when one of the Creative Directors had suggested that the olive silk dress would look brilliant on me. That was one of the great perks of working in the fashion industry—there were just so many free products to choose from.
After a quick shower, I donned the stunning floor-length, silk dress, pairing it with gold three-inch stilettos. With the blizzard outside, I wasn’t sure I could pull off walking in them, but they were the only shoes I had that could work other than my black flats. I could literally see his stepmother aghast at the sight of those.
With a quick application of light eye shadow, a few sweeps of mascara, and my beloved red lipstick, I was set to go with my off-white wool jacket.
Standing atop the stair landing, I was caught off guard at the sight of Drew in his Italian dinner suit. I knew he looked good in them, but tonight, he truly looked knee-buckling sexy.
“Ready?” he asked the second I stepped off the stairs.
Gripping the lapels of my jacket, my eyes dropped to my shoes of choice. “I hope this won’t delay us. I don’t have any other option with me, sorry.”
He smirked. “Don’t worry. I’m going to drive us to the house; you’re fine.”
I took a breath of relief. “And here I thought I’d be walking in a blizzard with this thing.” Maybe not entirely. In my mind, we would be riding in a golf cart or something. That seemed to be quite common for big homes.
There was a silver Range Rover parked right outside the bungalow as he had promised. I was relieved that it was an actual vehicle and not a buggy.
I was just about to comment about his nice ride when he swept me off my feet, carrying me to the passenger’s side without a word of warning.
“We don’t want those little toes to catch frost bite,” he explained as he situated me in the seat before slamming the door shut and rounding the car to get in the driver’s side.
Mumbling a soft thanks as he started the engine, I dared not overthink what had just happened.
The ride to the main house wasn’t all that bad. What I hadn’t expected was to see about a dozen or so parked cars. This wasn’t a simple family Thanksgiving. In fact, it was a party, consisting of a six-course meal with a string quartet playing in the background. My dress was perfect for the occasion. I should give myself a pat on the shoulder
Apart from Caroline, Drew, and myself, the rest were aged fifty and above. During dinner, I was asked subtle questions about my background. It was a good thing Drew was sitting next to make sure no one crossed the line after his stepmother Caroline inquired about which finishing school I had attended.
First off, I didn’t want to sound idiotic, but what the hell was a finishing school? I hadn’t heard of it. Thankfully, Drew came to my rescue, changing the topic.
Caroline wasn’t very pleased that I had crashed her party. I heard her complain to Conrad about Drew not mentioning a guest and how she’d had to rearrange the table seating because of it. Add the fact that she was sending me daggers with her calculating smiles, and I knew then that Jackson’s joke wasn’t a joke at all, but in fact, a reality. How could she have designs on her husband’s son was beyond me.
Apart from her apparent disdain for me, the rest of the party seemed not to mind me at all. In fact, Conrad, Drew’s father, was constantly engaging me with questions about Drew and how he had been while growing up, a subject I didn’t mind discussing. I even brought the table to a laugh or two. Even Drew didn’t seem to care that I was telling stories about how I used to terrorize him whenever he hadn’t been playing with Jackson.
After the lengthy but engaging dinner, everyone gathered in the salon that showcased pricey artworks with the beautiful music playing in the background. Some danced, some smoked cigars, and the others gossiped. Since I didn’t really feel like mingling with anyone, I stayed put around the corner, nursing my third glass of champagne while I enjoyed the scenery and the music.
Drew joined me with his own drink in hand. Leaning over, he whispered close to my ear, “Sorry for Caroline earlier. I told her to be nice to you, but I guess, after seeing how her husband kept talking to you, she couldn’t stop herself.”
Frowning, I cocked my head to the side, gazing at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re attractive with a beautiful body. That dress surely doesn’t downplay your amazing physical attributes, so she felt the need to protect her own.”
My eyes flickered toward his while I tried to grasp what he had just stated. “What does my dress have to do with it?”
“If you’re the third wife, you know that you can be easily dispensed.”
WTF?
“God, if you think for one second I’d ever flirt with your dad, I’m going to murder you in your sleep, Drew Cavendish.”
He chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he bestowed me with that beautiful smile of his. “That dress ought to be illegal. You commanded every man’s attention tonight.”
Did that include him? I doubted it. Next to Poppy, I paled in comparison.
Speaking of which, I took a careful sip of my drink before voicing out my thoughts. “Was Poppy too busy to join you and your family tonight?”
“She’s back in England.”
“That’s too bad.” It was all I could say.
“It is,” he stated without any hint of emotion. He could very well be speaking about the weather and not his girlfriend.
Okay, then. This was beyond awkward. Why, oh why, did I have to bring her up when things were beginning to ease between us? My timing sucked. Ugh.
“Care for a dance?”
Shit. Why was he doing this to me? Was this his way of trying to see if he could get his wicked way with me since his girlfriend wasn’t here? He could think again. My body wanted him more than ever, but I wasn’t keen on cheaters. He should know better.
“I’m not really good at that. Besides, I’m trying to save you from people gossiping that you’re cheating on Poppy.”
“Do you honestly believe I care what others say?” He raised his brow, mocking me … challenging me. “Make this dance my belated birthday present.”
He wasn’t going to let it go, so I reluctantly agreed.
He then handed our drinks to the nearest waiter before taking me in his arms. With my head resting against his chin and my arms wrapped around his neck, we slowly swayed to Nat King Cole’s “Unforgettable.”
It had been mad of me to agree, and I realized just how much when I couldn’t help myself from smelling him over and over again, pressing my nose against his skin. He was intoxicating, and my addiction wasn’t going to taper away in this lifetime.
“Poppy’s not my girlfriend. She never was,” he murmured as his grip on my hip tightened.
His declaration didn’t help ease my fears that he was trying to seduce me. Considering the way he was intimately holding me, I knew with every fiber of me that he was biding his time until he made his move. The question was, would I be able to resist him? The clear answer would be a big no. Therefore, the only way I could hold my dignity was to walk away before he was able to hurt me like before.
“How are things with him, Chloe?” he probed. “Are you happy?”
This was quite tricky. If he realized I was available for him to ravish, he would do it without hesitation. And at this moment, hesitation was the only thing hindering me from insanity.
Licking my lips, I decided to choose my words wisely. “Yeah, I’m happy … and things with him are just as expected.”
“Are you in love with him?”
This was pure fucking torture.
“Let’s not do this. This is making me uncomfortable.” It was, and God help me if my blabber mouth activated itself and confessed that he was still and would forever hold my heart. What then? It was best to nip it in the bud before things got out of hand.
“Whatever makes you happy, Chloe.”
What did he expect from me? He was getting too personal, and I liked things between us casual, friendly, but never personal. I loved him, yet guarding my heart from getting smashed again was my priority.
“How’s
Teen Vogue
? Are you liking it there?” he casually inquired.
His willingness to communicate even if I shut his question down was very well appreciated.
“I know I haven’t properly thanked you for getting me that interview, but I’m loving it there so far. Hopefully, it’ll all work out in the end.”
“You did properly thank me … twice.” His tone was teasing, but his intent wasn’t. It was a blatant attempt to steer my mind to baser instincts.
“Um … I’m … Well, I don’t remember that bit,” I stuttered as my mind went into a heated overdrive. Sex with him was an out of this world experience, and I remembered it all. Every touch, every kiss—it had been replaying in my mind until I fell asleep in tears.
“I guess I’m not as unforgettable as I thought.” He made a light pun since the song’s intent was the polar opposite of his.
I’d rather not go there.
“There’s always a first time for everything,” I quipped back, which resulted in great laughter from both of us.
When the song ended, Drew dipped his head against my ear and whispered, “I’m glad you’re here with me.”
“Me, too.” Although this entire day had begun chaotically, I was pleased that I had gone with him instead of spending it alone at home.
We stayed for another half an hour before heading back to the bungalow. And just like he had done earlier, he was adamant that he carry me back indoors.
Back inside, the living room was aglow with the dancing flames coming from the fireplace. It was where I situated myself, standing right next to it while I gazed at the blizzard outside through the French patio doors.
He headed toward the bar to get himself something to drink. “Can I get you anything?”
Some gas and a match so I can light myself on fire.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I managed.
All this time, I had led myself to believe I would never give in to him after how he had treated me, yet here I was, contemplating what to do.
After hearing his footsteps, I felt him stop right behind me and glanced at his reflection in one of the glass panes. My breathing became ragged, and my pulse sped up when I felt his breath against my shoulder. It was only a mere brush, and I was already a complete mess inside.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he rasped out, hypnotizing me with his voice.
“It is.” I let out a measured breath, acknowledging that I was becoming undone. Slowly but surely, Drew was unfolding the carnal side of me, rousing it to come out and play with him as he carefully watched me through the glass.
My pussy clenched as he kept brushing his lips against the side of my neck, trailing down to my shoulder then back up again. He did it until he knew I was on the brink of surrender. Then he spun me around to face him and stared deeply into my soul.
His eyes were a storm of emotions. Most of all, I saw lust, raw and unhinged.
He was so careful, so hesitant as he caressed my face with his thumb before grazing it over my breasts. My nipples ached for his touch, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him so.
“Chloe?” Those vivid eyes were in pure torment. “Tell me to stop,” he pleaded as he brought his lips closer to mine, almost touching. “I’m going to take you, and I won’t be satisfied until this weekend is over unless you stop me.”
“I don’t want you to stop.”
To hell with all of this,
I thought as I hungrily pulled him, crashing his lips against mine. And God did he feel amazing.
“Don’t rip my dress,” I said right as I felt his hands readying to do just that. I was too late to stop it.