Mastered (The Enforcers #1) (29 page)

Evangeline woke and promptly snuggled further into the covers, the slight ache in her behind bringing back the delicious pleasure Drake had given her the night before. She had no desire to get up and emerge from the cocoon and into reality and so she lay there for a long while, savoring each moment from the night before.

It was like having the most beautiful dream, one she never wanted to awaken from. And then remembering the ritualistic note accompanied by a ridiculously expensive gift that she'd awakened to every single morning since she'd moved in with Drake, she reluctantly turned, hoping . . .

She let out a sigh when her hopes were dashed. A single wrapped box lay next to a note. Most women would think it terribly romantic, but every time Drake left her a gift, it somehow cheapened their relationship and reduced it to a business transaction. As if he were paying her for . . . sex. When the very best gift he could give her would be for her to wake up in his arms.

She cringed and then sat up, curling her legs up against her chest and wrapping her arms around them, hugging herself as she stared at the offending box.

There was little point in putting it off, since Drake would no doubt have her instructions for the day listed in his note.

First she opened the box, dreading what it would reveal. But even she wasn't prepared for the extravagance of this offering. She dropped it as if it had burned her, and she stared aghast at what had to have cost tens of thousands of dollars.

It was a sapphire and diamond choker that glittered brilliantly in the light. The stones varied in size from very large to the smaller ones that encrusted the edges. It was certainly beautiful, but she couldn't ever imagine herself wearing it.

Hadn't Drake learned anything about her at all? That expensive gifts were totally unnecessary? Had she not given him enough reassurance that
he
was all she wanted and needed? Not gifts every single morning.

With trembling hands, she opened the note and read his now-familiar scrawl.

Good morning, my angel. I hope your knee is feeling much better. I hope you like the choker I chose especially for you. It pales in comparison to your beauty and to your gorgeous blue eyes, but I think it will complement both nicely. Be sure and inform me if you leave the apartment and also remember that you are never to do so without one of my men.

It shouldn't have bothered her. She thought she'd gotten past this last night when she'd made certain realizations about Drake and his need—and delight—to take care of and protect her. But now, no longer in the fantasy of the moment, it irritated her that he felt the need to curtail her freedom so drastically. For that matter, was it really necessary, the veritable circus act it required for her to so much as leave the building?

“You chose this,” she reminded herself.

She'd been made well aware of Drake's requirements and she'd
willingly signed on, agreeing to those requirements and also knowing the consequences and rewards for her actions.

Oh well, it wasn't as though it was for forever, right? Only for as long as . . . what? Drake got tired of her? Decided he wanted a new trained monkey?

The thought made her unhappy even as she chastised herself for wanting it both ways. To have her cake and eat it too. She had to stop overthinking matters. Live for the moment for
once
in her life. Don't think about tomorrow until it arrives. For one glorious span of time in her life, she was going to indulge in what she wanted and put her needs before others, and she refused to spend the entirety of her relationship with Drake feeling guilt for, as he'd stated in the beginning, enjoying the ride. When in her life had she ever given in to impulse? Thrown caution to the wind and plunged recklessly into anything? Oh, that was easy. Never!

There
were
things she'd like to do. Visit her girlfriends. Or simply enjoy a day out. But quite frankly what she needed most was a break from all the testosterone that was always in abundance wherever Drake was—or rather couldn't be at the moment. If she had to spend another day with one of Drake's men hovering over her, she might well scream.

Suddenly a day alone and not leaving Drake's apartment held greater appeal than it had before.

She got up and took her time showering, and then she remembered to put the ointment on her knee. It was too late for breakfast, so she was running through her lunch options in her mind.

She was tempted to order takeout, even though she had plenty of stuff to whip up something herself in no time. Takeout had always been a luxury for her, one seldom indulged in and usually only for special occasions. The more she thought about it, the more she craved some really good Chinese or Thai takeout. And why not? She had plenty of cash on her. Drake's minions weren't around to whip out a credit card.

But then should she be saving her money? She couldn't take anything for granted, and if Drake did suddenly get tired of her and dump her, she would need every penny she had to support herself until she found a job and a place to live. Because she knew one thing already. If Drake ended their relationship, there was no way she'd go back to her old apartment knowing that Drake had paid the rent for two years.

Shaking off the unpleasant direction in which her thoughts had taken her, she went into the kitchen and then took out her phone to look up nearby places that would deliver to Drake's apartment.

After a few frustrating minutes in which she realized just how unfamiliar she was with this part of the city, she nearly gave up on the idea of ordering takeout. But then an idea hit her. Surely the doorman or the concierge would be able to give her some guidance.

Happy that she wouldn't have to give up on her fantasy lunch now that it had taken root and she could think of nothing else, she finished dressing and then rode the elevator down to the lobby.

When she got off, she looked uneasily around, unsure of where she'd find the concierge. It wasn't as though the other times that she'd been rushed through the lobby she'd made it a point to check out her surroundings.

She was saved when the doorman approached her, a welcoming smile on his face.

“Miss Hawthorn, is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes,” she said gratefully. “This is going to sound stupid.”

She flushed but the doorman merely smiled and gave her a kind look.

“I assure you that nothing you ask will be stupid. Now, how can I be of service?”

“Well, um, can you tell me where to find the concierge? You see, I wanted to order Chinese or maybe even Thai takeout, but I'm not very familiar with this part of the city and I have no idea who delivers here
and who doesn't. Do you think the concierge would be able to help me with that?”

The doorman looked horrified. “Of course! But, Miss Hawthorn, in the future you needn't bother calling out yourself. I can give you several menus as well as the delivery service Mr. Donovan most frequently uses. With or without a menu, all you need to do is call down and let me or the concierge know of your wishes and we'll take care of it immediately and we will deliver the food to your apartment personally.”

“Oh,” she said slowly, realizing that in her ignorance she'd evidently committed a faux pas.

“Do you happen to know what you would like? I know of an excellent restaurant that offers both Chinese and Thai just a few blocks from here. I can arrange to have whatever you like delivered within minutes.”

She rattled off an extensive order, including several appetizers and side items since she intended to sample all of it. The doorman merely nodded and then explained to Evangeline that she should go back up to the apartment and that he would bring the food up in twenty minutes or less.

“But wait. I need to know how much it cost,” she protested, as she began pulling the folded twenties from her pocket.

Again the doorman looked horrified and hastily put his hand out in protest.

“I can't take your money, Miss Hawthorn. Mr. Donovan would be most displeased. I've been instructed to take care of any and all of your requests. He will take care of it, so please don't concern yourself.”

Evangeline sighed. Of course. Why hadn't she anticipated this very thing? Still, not wanting to further upset the sweet doorman, she smiled and shoved the money back into her pocket.

“Thank you, sir. And please do call me Evangeline. Miss Hawthorn sounds so formal and, well, as I'm sure you can probably tell, I'm hardly the kind of girl who needs to be addressed as
Miss
anything.”

The man smiled, seemingly pleased by Evangeline's overture.

“Then you must call me Edward, because
sir
is certainly not something I'm accustomed to either.”

“Edward it is then,” she said, broadening her smile.

“And Evangeline, please do let me know anytime I can be of service. I wouldn't want Mr. Donovan to ever think I wasn't doing my job properly, and he was quite clear in that you were to be taken care of and that you were to receive priority service.”

“I certainly will, Edward. I wouldn't want Mr. Donovan to think either of us was committing some unpardonable sin,” she said with a teasing grin.

Edward relaxed, a twinkle in his eyes. “You are a breath of fresh air, Miss Evangeline. I think you and I will get along quite famously.”

“I would like that very much,” she said sincerely. “No one can ever have too many friends.”

He looked taken aback and then absurdly pleased at the notion that she would consider them friends. But then he likely catered to the extremely wealthy and was likely unused to any sort of deference or respect. Then she immediately felt guilty for making such a sweeping generalization. As if all wealthy people were rude and snobbish. Drake possessed neither of those qualities, though she did doubt he had gone so far as to learn Edward's first name, much less consider him a “friend.”

“Now, go on back up so that I can see to your food,” he said, making a shooing motion with his hands. “I can't have you going hungry on my watch.”

So this was the life of a rich and pampered princess, she mused as she rode the elevator back up to the apartment. It was still disconcerting to her just how quickly her entire life had been upended and the extreme to which it had changed in such a short time.

She supposed other women wouldn't waste time stressing over it and count their blessings. They would likely revel in such a lifestyle and
have no problem at all adjusting. However, Evangeline's pride and the fact that she didn't see what Drake obviously saw when he looked at her kept her on cautious reserve. But if she wasn't careful, she was going to come across as an ungrateful shrew, and that was the last thing she ever wanted Drake to think of her. Or anyone, for that matter. Her mother had taught her better and would be greatly disappointed in her were she to discover that Evangeline had ever acted in such a way.

As she waited for her delivery to be brought up, her cell phone rang and it was a different ringtone. Frowning, she picked it up, seeing Drake's name as the incoming caller. He must have set a different ringtone for himself since the last time he'd called her so she'd know who was calling before ever looking to see. She smiled, thinking it endearing that he'd done such a thoughtful and sweet thing.

“Hello?” she said, with eagerness she couldn't contain from flowing from her greeting.

“How is my angel today?” he asked in a gruff voice. “Not overdoing it, are you?”

“I'm fine,” she said truthfully. “I barely feel it at all.”

There was a short silence and then, “I'm going to be late again tonight. I'm sorry but it's unavoidable. I have a late meeting that couldn't be rescheduled. I had hoped to be home in time to take you out for dinner tonight, but I'd rather you not wait on me since I don't know what time I'll be there. If you'd still like to eat out, I'll have one of my men come pick you up and take you wherever you'd like to go, or if you prefer, you can stay in. It's your call.”

There was sincere regret in his tone that told her he had intended their evening to go a lot differently, and it bolstered her spirits to know he was disappointed that he wouldn't see her as soon as he'd planned.

“I ordered takeout for lunch so I doubt I'll feel much like eating later, but if I do, I'll make something here. I think I'd rather stay in,” she said quietly.

There was a distinct pause as he seemed to analyze her response.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No,” she said in a near whisper. “There's nothing wrong at all, Drake. Please don't worry about me when you have business matters to attend to. I'll see you when you get home.”

Before allowing him to question her further, and he would have, she ended the phone call and then turned off the ringer, not wanting to get into her conflicted feelings that even she didn't fully understand, so how could she expect Drake to?