Soon, she’d be ripe with his child.
He needed heirs, but the whole marriage and family paradigm wasn’t for him. This deal with Mira was as close as he could get to a real relationship. He wasn’t capable of offering more.
“Glenda, make sure we’re not disturbed.” He took Mira’s hand and led her to his office.
“What about your eight o’clock with Mr. Stein?” asked Glenda.
“Cancel it. Cancel everything. I’m done for the night.”
He closed the office door and circled Mira. She wore some kind of skirt suit in a deep shade of purple. Nothing she did could hide those full curves—big, round hips, juicy thighs, and tits to drown in.
“What’s your favorite color?” he asked.
She frowned. “Is that important?”
“Stop being difficult, Mira. It was just a question.”
“I don’t know. Pink.”
“And what do you do for a living?”
She crossed her arms. “You know what, Drake? I’m pretty sure you know everything about me. Let’s stop playing games, okay?”
“You work as an accountant in the back of a rundown Chinese restaurant. You barely make more than minimum wage, and you’re behind on your car payment.”
“Nice. Does that make you happy? You made it big and I’m at rock bottom. Have your laughs, Drake. You certainly didn’t hold back in school.” Her eyes filled with unshed tears. The shade of blue reminded him of the water in Turks and Caicos.
He uncrossed her arms, holding them by her sides. “I’m not trying to be an asshole. I guess I’m failing at that, but I’ll try harder.”
Then Drake grabbed the papers from his cabinet before she changed her mind completely. He waved them up for her to see, then placed them on his desk next to a pen.
She huffed and walked to the desk, snatching the pen. What surprised him was that she signed before even reading the four-page document.
“There, it’s done. Now what?”
This wasn’t how he wanted their relationship to start out, but he supposed he deserved all her anger and bitterness. She wasn’t like the women he usually dealt with, which was the point. He had everything he wanted before today, except her.
He took the signed papers and locked them into his cabinet. “Have a seat. I’ll make some calls and see that your brother’s off the hook.”
Mira exhaled, taking a seat. She looked visibly calmer. “Can you fix his broken legs?”
He didn’t bother answering her. The girl was full of vitriol and would be for some time, he imagined. Little did she know how much it turned him on.
As she listened, Drake made the calls to ensure his hitmen were no longer following Nigel. His dues were cleared in full and he even took care of the pawnshop’s debts.
He rubbed his hands together when it was all done. “You see, I keep my promises.” It had been a long fucking day, and he just wanted to get home. He spent way too many hours in the office, but keeping busy was what he did to keep the demons at bay.
Drake shrugged on his suit jacket and grabbed his briefcase and laptop.
“Time to go, Mira.”
“Where are we going?”
“Home. My home. Time for you to start paying off this debt to me.” He winked at her, but she wasn’t amused. Fire and ice, a sexy fucking combination.
They took the elevator down to the parking level. She stayed close, but not too close.
He held the door of his silver Bentley open. She stared at him before stepping in to sit on the passenger seat. “I do have manners,” he said. “I’m not the animal you make me out to be.”
Once behind the steering wheel, he started up the engine and began the short drive home. The interior of the car was incredibly silent. He knew she had a lot to say but refused to speak to him.
After driving for a while, she finally decided to speak. “Why were you so mean to me in school?”
He was surprised to hear her voice.
“That was a long time ago, Mira.”
“Well, it’s shaped me into who I am today. It may not have meant much to you, but you hurt me a lot. Being dyslexic was a nightmare for me. You made it so much worse.”
“I was an idiot back then. I had a lot of anger built up.”
“How was that my fault?”
He took a breath, feeling like shit. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Drake didn’t want to share the shitty details of his life story. He had to own up to his behavior now that he was an adult. He’d stopped blaming his childhood a long time ago. But back then, he was busy spreading hate and pain because it was all he received at home. His parents enjoyed using him as a punching bag when they were drunk. They were never not drunk. He was constantly pulled out and shoved back in by Children’s Services. No one cared to look too deeply. There was no one to save him. His parents really fucked him up, and it was the reason he vowed never to have a family of his own. In his mind, family wasn’t a good word. It represented suffering, confinement, anger … and sadness.
“You had no right,” she said.
“Sometimes people act like assholes because they don’t know how to be good people. No one taught them right from wrong.”
He pulled into the underground parking lot of his condo, cutting the engine. Silence blanketed the interior of the car.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying if
