Mastered (The Enforcers #1) (14 page)

He handled all the women he'd taken up with, no matter how short of a time it was, with practiced ease. Never missing a step. He performed by rote and his efforts were greatly appreciated and met with delight.

For the first time in his life, he felt doubt over how to handle a woman. The irony wasn't lost on him. It was obvious that he couldn't employ the usual strategy with Evangeline because she wasn't like any of his past women. It might have annoyed another man, but it filled Drake with an eagerness he hadn't ever felt.

She was perhaps going to be his greatest challenge, and he thrived on challenges. He would have to figure out just how to handle her. What pleased her. Because the last thing he wanted to do was insult her or damage her pride. And pride was something she had in abundance. He admired and respected that because he understood pride all too well.

His thoughts drifted to his earlier acknowledgment that he hadn't already set a time limit on his relationship—yes,
relationship
, a word he'd never before used when referring to time he spent with a woman—with Evangeline. Because one thing he knew for sure. It would take more than a few days, weeks or even months to fully learn everything there was to know about his angel. And he looked forward to every moment.

Realizing his plate was completely cleaned, he leaned back in his chair and settled his gaze on what was his.

“That was wonderful, Evangeline. You were wrong when you said you were pretty good at cooking, though.”

Her eyes widened, but before she could draw the wrong conclusion, he continued.

“You're an
amazing
cook. I've eaten in more five-star restaurants than I can count, and that was the best meal I've ever eaten. And the fact that you made it for me only makes it more special. Thank you.”

She blushed furiously, but her eyes shone with happiness at his compliment. Her entire face lit up and he was momentarily robbed of breath at how radiant she looked. Good God, how had the woman gotten to the age of twenty-three before losing her virginity to an asshole? Men had to have been trying to get into her pants since she was a teenager.

But then he already had his answer to that question. Men hadn't figured into Evangeline's plans or goals. She'd been too busy taking care of her family and working all hours of the day to entertain thoughts of a relationship.

He frowned to himself as he also remembered one very important reason Evangeline wasn't experienced. She had no clue how beautiful she was. She thought she was nothing and nobody.

If it was the last thing he did, he was going to damn well make her see herself the way he—and the rest of the world—did.

“There's dessert too,” she said. “No good meal ends without dessert. I only had time to whip up something simple given time constraints, but you have your choice of homemade chocolate mousse with whipped cream topping or cupcakes.”

“Both,” he said without a single moment of hesitation, prompting her to laugh.

“Somehow I didn't see you as a cupcake person,” she said with amusement.

“If it's got sugar, I like it.”

“Wait until you try my caramel Heath Bar pie,” she said in a dreamy voice. “It's sinful.”

“I can't wait,” he said in a husky voice that suggested there were other things he couldn't wait for as well.

She smiled and hurried away, returning with an elegant sterling silver tray bearing two cupcakes and two artfully prepared crystal serving dishes of the chocolate mousse. He eyed both, knowing that if dessert lived up to dinner, he was going to be groaning afterward.

He was not disappointed.

“You're already spoiling me,” he said as he slid the dishes away and took his dinner napkin to dab at the crumbs that were no doubt clinging to his mouth.

“Certainly not as much as you are me,” she said pointedly.

“Good.”

Evangeline rose, a smile still shining on her lips, and began collecting the empty plates. Drake frowned and then wrapped his fingers around her wrist, effectively halting her.

“Leave them,” he said. “The cleaning lady will be in tomorrow morning. That's what I pay her to do. You and I have things to discuss.”

Her instant look of uncertainty made his chest tighten to the point of discomfort. He purposely dropped her wrist and then rose and held out his hand to hers, waiting for her to make the choice of whether to take his hand. He was shocked over his actions. He never allowed others to dictate matters. Or allowed someone else to take the initiative. He was a take-charge man. Ruthless even. And yet here he waited for one small woman to trust him enough to decide to take his hand.

But when her silky soft fingers slid trustingly into his, he was suddenly glad he had waited and not taken the choice from her. Somehow it meant so much more that she'd come to him willingly, no longer any hint of apprehension in her eyes.

He guided her into the living room and settled her on the couch. Suddenly remembering the small box in his pants pocket, he reached for it, still holding on to her hand with his other. He held it out to her
wordlessly. He wasn't a mushy, sentimental guy by any stretch and he always let the gifts do their own talking. It had always worked for him in the past.

But she stared at the wrapped package in stupefaction and then lifted her surprised gaze to his.

“Drake, what is this?”

The corners of his mouth quirked into a half smile.

“Open it and find out. Isn't that what one usually does?”

Instead of tearing into it, as most women of his acquaintance tended to do, she stared at it in awe, touching the ribbon and the colored paper reverently. Jesus, had no one ever given her a gift before? No, he didn't want to know the answer to that. It would only piss him off more.

“I'm afraid to ruin it,” she said huskily. “It's too pretty.”

She was threatening to turn him into knots and he hadn't even cemented that she was his and his alone yet. What this said about the future, he wasn't sure, but he wasn't entirely certain he liked it.

But he smiled indulgently, feeling something remarkably like relaxation settling into his chest. His cell was turned off—something he never did. And all his men had strict instructions, under threat of dismemberment this time, that he was not to be disturbed as he'd been last night. By God, he'd have things between him and Evangeline settled tonight come hell or high water.

Tentatively she began to unwrap it, careful not to make a single tear in the paper. She slid her fingernail under the tape and lifted until she was able to free the box with the paper completely intact. She fingered the ribbon a moment as if savoring the satiny texture, much as he had savored the same satiny feel of her skin.

With the box now sitting on her lap, she stared at it as if she had no idea what to do next. He could see her sudden inhale and the fact that she didn't immediately exhale.

“Open it, Angel,” he said in a husky voice he didn't recognize.

Her fingers trembling, she slipped the lid off and bit her lip in consternation when she found yet another box, this one a velvet jeweler's box inside the other. She turned it over and gently shook until the velvet box fell into her palm, and then she turned it over, her thumb clumsily opening the front.

“Oh, Drake,” she whispered.

Tears sparkled in her eyes as she looked up at him, and there was clear distress. What the hell?

“You shouldn't have. It's too expensive,” she said in a panicked tone.

And yet her finger trailed over the delicate angel pendant on the gold necklace nestled in the box.

“Do you like it?” he asked pointedly.

“I love it,” she said without hesitation. “It's the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given me.”

The ache in her voice gave him an answering ache in his chest.

“Then it wasn't too expensive.”

“But Drake, you barely know me,” she protested. “You didn't need to buy me a gift.”

“And you didn't need to cook me dinner,” he challenged. “And yet you did.”

She looked flustered as if she had no idea what to say to that.

He knew if he waited for her to take the necklace out and put it on, they'd be there all night, so he took the box from her lap, removed the necklace from the trappings, and then instructed her to turn around.

She shifted immediately and once again, he was assailed by satisfaction that she heeded his commands without thought. This wasn't a woman who could or would be just anyone's submissive, and that made her all the more desirable to him. No, she was
his
submissive. He didn't fool himself into thinking she was a natural submissive and would react this way with just any man. That she had chosen him, whether she
consciously realized it yet or not, was something he would not take for granted, and he would most certainly cherish it for the precious gift it was.

When she turned back around, her gaze and her fingers lowered to the necklace that rested in the hollow of her breasts. He'd nearly laughed when she'd shockingly said it was too expensive. This was the least expensive gift he'd ever given a woman, and yet it was so appropriate that he couldn't pass it up. And there was also the fact that he knew he had to tread carefully with Evangeline. She wasn't a woman to be draped with gaudy jewelry and clothing from head to toe. She wasn't a woman who
needed
those accessories to shine or enhance her beauty. Her beauty needed no such embellishments or distractions.

He slid his hand into hers and picked it up, shifting himself until they were closer, their thighs touching, their hands resting on his leg.

“There are several things we need to discuss tonight, my angel, but first, I want to know what upset you this morning.”

Her eyes flew up, startled as she stared at him in obvious confusion.

“Something was bothering you when you left to go shopping,” he said patiently. “And it had nothing to do with our phone conversation. I'd like to know what it was.”

Her eyes dropped and she fidgeted, her shoulders slumping as he watched her lips turn down into an unhappy frown. Justice had been right, and Drake suspected he knew precisely the source of her unhappiness.

“Did the call to your girls have anything to do with your quietness and the lack of sparkle in your eyes this morning? Because, baby, you shine. You just being you, you shine. Unless something is bothering you or has upset you.”

He cursed beneath his breath when Evangeline flushed and her lips trembled. She turned her head to try to hide her reaction—as if such a thing were possible. She was a woman with no artifice. One only had to
look at her to know what she was thinking or feeling. It was a good thing she was inherently honest, because she'd make a terrible liar.

He gently cupped her chin and turned her back to look at him, feeling like someone had punched him in the stomach when he saw the tears welling in her beautiful blue eyes.

“Tell me,” he said.

“They think I've lost my mind,” she said in a weary voice. “They're worried. I don't blame them for that.”

“And?” Drake prompted, knowing there was far more to it than just this.

“Steph told me I was a fool to depend on a man so much and asked me how long I thought it would take for you to get tired of me and scrape me off and then where would I be?”

There was an edge of bitterness in her voice that suggested her friend's caustic words had hit an already ingrained source of insecurity within Evangeline. If he could get his hands around Steph's neck right now, he'd wring it. Damn woman had already caused enough trouble the night before. And she called herself Evangeline's friend? Hell, with friends like her, who the hell needed enemies?

“I shouldn't be so sensitive,” she hurriedly said, her worried eyes tracking back to Drake's as if she thought he would assume she was fishing for assurances or guarantees. “It was more the way she said it that bothered me, I guess. She sounded . . . angry. Sarcastic. I don't know. Maybe even bitter. Like I betrayed them somehow by just up and leaving. And . . .”

She trailed off, dropping her gaze, color once again flooding her face. She bit into her lip, and it was obvious she hadn't intended to say so much. But he already knew how open Evangeline was and that she was honest to a fault.

“And what?” he gently prompted.

She sighed. “The night I went to the club, she, Lana and Nikki were all about how gorgeous I was and what a fool Eddie was and how he
didn't know a good thing when he saw it, blah blah. They told me I don't see that I'm gorgeous. So if Steph really believed all of that, then why would she automatically assume that a man like you wouldn't want a woman like me and would scrape me off at the first opportunity?”

Drake had to breathe deeply to compose himself and control the blistering curse words that burned to spill out. Instead he reached out and framed Evangeline's tear-streaked face in his palms and looked directly into those gorgeous, innocent eyes.

“I imagine there were a lot of things behind that statement, Angel. I'm sure they were all taken off guard and weren't prepared for you to suddenly move out when you've always been their constant source of emotional support. I'm right, aren't I? It's likely you they seek out when they get their hearts broken or someone's pissed them off or they just had a bad day.”

Her expression said it all. There was no need for her to respond, so he continued on.

“And I'm sure she is worried about you, but baby, listen to me and listen closely, because you won't like what I'm about to tell you, but it doesn't make it any less true.”

Her eyes locked with his, clear question reflected.

“She's a jealous bitch.”

Evangeline gasped and would have responded, no doubt denying any such thing, but Drake slid one hand over so his thumb pressed against her lips, silencing any outburst.