Chapter 20
1478 Words
Drake was a man of restraint. He lived by control of his company, his reputation, his time. Every move was calculated, every decision measured, every word delivered with precision. That was how he had climbed the ruthless corporate ladder through discipline sharper than any blade.
But around Lucresia Marie Cordova, all that control slipped through his fingers like water refusing to be held.
There was something about her, something loud, chaotic, and impossible, that stripped away the walls he had so carefully built. She was messy where he was methodical, reckless where he was reserved, irritating where he was composed. And yet, she fascinated him.
He would never admit it aloud, not even under t*****e, but there was one thing he genuinely enjoyed about her: watching her get annoyed. The way her brows pinched together, the way her nose flared like an indignant kitten, the stubborn pout of her lips when she thought she was winning an argument. Even her sharp tongue, her endless barrage of complaints and teases, entertained him. It was infuriating, maddening, and, God help him, addicting.
And now, seated across from him at the polished restaurant table, she looked seconds away from leaping across and clawing out Ms. Valdez’s perfectly styled hair. Her ears were flushed pink, her fists clenched tightly around her fork, and there was the faintest sheen of sweat on her nose. The tigress in her was awake, restless, and burning with something that looked dangerously like jealousy.
Drake almost chuckled. A wicked impulse stirred in his chest. He leaned casually toward Lucy, brushing his thumb across the corner of her lips. She froze, startled, her wide eyes snapping up to his face in disbelief.
“You’ve got something on your face too,” he said smoothly, his voice low and controlled, as if the gesture were the most natural thing in the world.
Her glare could have melted steel. That only made his smirk deepen.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Ms. Valdez stiffen, her polished smile faltering for a split second. Interesting. For all her charm and practiced elegance, she wasn’t immune to the sudden shift in energy at the table.
But Drake wasn’t finished. Mischief urged him on. Slowly, deliberately, he raised the same finger he had just wiped across Lucy’s lips and slid it into his mouth. He licked it lazily, savoring it as if it held the sweetness of honey.
Lucy’s jaw dropped. Perfect.
A heartbeat later, pain shot through his foot.
“Ouch! Fvck!” Drake hissed under his breath, jerking slightly. He glanced down, only to see the sharp point of Lucy’s heel grinding mercilessly into his shoe. The sting tore up through his bones, and for the first time that day, he nearly lost his composure.
Shit.
His head snapped back up, ready to bark at her, but what greeted him was her face, serene and smug, eyes sparkling with mischief, a grin tugging at her lips as if she had just won a war.
“Whoa,” she whispered sweetly, her voice laced with venomous sarcasm. “Even more flirty.”
Drake clenched his jaw, teeth grinding together as he fought to keep the groan inside.
“Problem, Mr. Anderson?” Ms. Valdez asked innocently, tilting her head.
He forced a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. “Nothing, just a giant ant bit me.”
The woman blinked. “An ant? Here? That’s odd. This place is usually spotless.”
Lucy leaned back in her chair, arms crossed smugly. “That wasn’t an ant, Boss. That was a surot. A big one. They bite when someone’s getting too flirty.”
Drake nearly choked on his water. His eyes cut sharply to hers, a glare that promised consequences. But Lucy only fluttered her lashes with exaggerated innocence, expression saying: What? I didn’t do anything.
Tsk. He had played with fire again, and once more, she had turned the flames back on him. He should have learned by now, but deep down, he knew he’d never stop teasing her.
The meal continued, tension thickening the air like smoke. Drake handled the business discussion with practiced ease, tone professional, every word measured. Beside him, Lucy sulked and stabbed her food with unnecessary aggression, muttering under her breath every time Ms. Valdez laughed too brightly.
But Ms. Valdez wasn’t ready to back down either. Her eyes softened, her tone dropped lower, each word laced with subtle suggestion. “Mr. Anderson, I must say, you’re impressive. I’ve heard many good things about you. Strong principles, sharp mind, and, of course, other qualities as well.”
Her gaze lingered on him, heavy with meaning. Lucy’s grip on her fork tightened so hard it almost bent.
Drake caught the implication but didn’t flinch. Inwardly, he sighed. Being handsome was a curse. Women so often blurred the line between business and something else. He had grown used to it, but with Lucy sitting next to him, every lingering glance from Valdez felt like fuel on an open flame.
When Ms. Valdez’s manicured hand slipped over his on the table, Lucy nearly leapt out of her chair.
“I fully accept your proposal,” Ms. Valdez said sweetly. “I hope to receive the good service you promised.”
“Of course,” Drake replied calmly, rising to his feet. “It’s a pleasure working with you.” He extended his hand. She rose as well, her radiant smile lingering a moment too long as she took it.
Lucy shoved her chair back so fast it nearly toppled. She gathered her things in a stormy flurry, glare fixed firmly on the floor so she wouldn’t combust.
As Ms. Valdez excused herself and passed by, she cast Lucy a quick, smug glance, a silent checkmate.
Lucy’s nostrils flared. The moment the woman was gone, Drake exhaled slowly, loosening his tie. But before he could speak, Lucy’s voice sliced the air.
“You’re flirty, Boss.”
He raised a brow. “Me?”
“Yes. And don’t deny it. Everyone saw.” She marched ahead, adjusting her bag straps, her ponytail bouncing furiously behind her.
Drake bit back a laugh. Pikon. That was the word. Always pikon. And he found himself oddly addicted to her tantrums.
In the car, she snapped her seatbelt into place like it had offended her. Her lips formed a stubborn pout as she shot daggers at him with her eyes.
“Man, you’re flirty too!” she accused.
“Why only women?” he teased lazily, starting the engine.
“If you flirted only with me, maybe our lives would be easier!”
He glanced at her with the faintest smirk. “Would you be satisfied if I did?”
Her breath caught, and she looked away quickly. “…Don’t know. Just be thankful I love you. Otherwise…”
“Tsk.” He clicked his tongue. “Like I care.”
Her head whipped back toward him. “Heh! Brat!”
“Grumpy,” he countered.
“Pretty enough!”
“Well, handsome too,” he teased back.
Her jaw dropped. “I’ll strangle you for that!”
“I don’t want rabies,” he muttered without missing a beat.
She gasped, scandalized, while he kept his eyes firmly on the road, hiding the smirk tugging at his lips. Sometimes, winning these little matches was the most satisfying part of his day.
When they pulled into the parking lot, Lucy attacked her seatbelt, tugging violently. “Damn thing, why won’t it come off?!”
Drake leaned back in his seat, amused, watching her fumble like a child wrestling a stubborn toy.
After a long moment, he leaned over, his arm brushing past her, and with one smooth motion, unlatched it.
Her breath hitched. Their faces were suddenly inches apart. He could see every detail, the flecks of gold in her eyes, the faint tremble of her lips, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She froze, lips parting slightly as if waiting.
For one dangerous second, Drake almost kissed her. Almost.
Instead, he leaned back, slow and deliberate, mischief curling his lips. She kept her eyes closed, pouting expectantly, as if bracing for the kiss that never came.
“Enough daydreaming,” he murmured, his voice low, teasing. “Your pout is getting long.”
He pushed his door open and climbed out, slamming it shut with just enough force to jolt her back to reality.
Lucy’s eyes snapped open. Realization hit her cheeks in a wave of crimson.
“You really are something, Jew!” she shouted after him, stomping her feet on the pavement. “If I catch you, I’ll strangle you for real!”
Drake threw his head back and laughed, deep, unguarded, the kind of laugh he hadn’t let out in years. And strangely, it felt good.
- Writer
