Promise Me Forever: Manhattan Ruthless
: Chapter 36

Today has been the day from hell, and of course it’s pouring down rain when it’s time for me to leave the office. I should be traveling home with Drake, warm and dry in the comfort of a plush SUV, but instead here I am, pulling my coat around my neck and cursing the cold droplets that have already snuck through.

I hate this rain. I hate my coat. And right now, I really hate Drake James.

The day started out okay. I was still in a good place because of Mom being released from the hospital three nights ago. Both of us were so relieved to escape those sterile walls. I used to volunteer at a busy hospital in Philadelphia, but I now know that it’s totally different from being there with a loved one. It’s strangely exhausting sitting by a bedside for hours on end, and she was desperate to get home.

She’ll need more tests, but for now, she’s back in her little house and loving it. I stayed with her the first night, but she chased me out the next day, saying I had to get back to work so I could be employee of the month again. She’s a big fan of Drake’s, of course. As am I. Or I was, anyway.

On my way into the office this morning, I was so looking forward to seeing him. We’ve spent more time apart the past few days because of my mom’s release, and I miss him.

Problem number one on the day from hell occurred when my usual subway stop was closed due to a power outage. I ended up having to walk the rest of the way in highly unsuitable heels. Problem number two—more like a bad omen really—was when I saw my favorite coffee truck was closed, its shutters down. Okay, not a big deal, they have coffee inside the building, I told myself as my blistered feet carried me into the James and James lobby.

Problem three came in the form of Linda from HR. Our relationship has improved slightly since we performed a karaoke duet of “You’re the One That I Want” on the night of the team-building event—she was the Sandy to my Danny. But today, she was very much in monster form, pulling me aside and telling me we needed to have a meeting because of my “unacceptable undocumented absence” last week. Shocked, I told her my mom had been in the hospital and that Mr. James had authorized the two measly afternoons I took off. I hated feeling like I was using his name to buy myself special treatment, and I felt even worse when she said he had done no such thing and that she needed his signature on the forms to clear the absence.

We left it at her telling me she would check with him, me telling her she should do just that, and then we went our separate ways. At my desk, I sat rubbing my sore feet and convincing myself it was a simple misunderstanding.

But problem number four—and by far the biggest—was Drake himself. He rolled up late, which he pretty much never does, and was in a bad mood from the get-go, giving me only a curt nod of greeting as he strode past my desk with his phone glued to his ear.

“Good morning,” I said, popping my head into his office a few minutes later. “May I ask you a favor?”

He gestured me in and was scowling at his mortal enemy—the coffee machine. “Are you okay?” I asked, getting him an espresso before he killed the poor thing.

“Fine. Just family stuff.”

“Oh. Right.”

That shutdown hurt, I was forced to admit. I’m aware that I’m not part of his family and that most of them have no clue I even exist or what role I play in Drake’s life, but he talks about them all the time. His stories have made me feel like I know them, and I care about them because he cares about them. Being closed out that way that felt like a slap in the face.

“What favor did you want?” he asked.

“Oh, I was wondering if you could speak to Linda for me. She’s on my back about not having the proper forms for the time I took when my mom was in the hospital.”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers and looked pained. “Of course. I should have done that already. Anything else?”

“N-no. Shall I, uh, leave you to it?”

He nodded. “If you don’t mind.”

That little exchange played out over the course of maybe five minutes, but it remained lodged in my mind hours later when his father and brother arrived at the office. I’ve never officially met either Dalton or Mason James before, but I recognized them from the photos Drake had shown me. It was all I could do not to jump up and hug them, which would have been weird. Definitely not normal secretary behavior.

“Hi, would it be possible to see Drake, or is he in there brokering a deal to buy Saturn?” Mason said.

I smiled and kept the joke going. “He already has Saturn. He’s working on Mars right now.”

Mason laughed, and I was charmed. It didn’t hurt that he was almost as easy on the eyes as his big brother. Dalton was sterner, but Emily was right—the man’s a silver fox.

“Just let me check if he’s finished with his last call,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll have time for you two.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” his dad huffed.

An excited smile on my face, I entered Drake’s office and got close enough to his desk that nobody else could hear me. “Your dad and Mason are here to see you. It’s so nice to meet them at last. I feel like I know them already because of how much you talk about them.” He shot me a furious look, and I stopped babbling, unable to tell whether he was angry with me or his family.

“You’re not exactly meeting them, are you, Amelia? You’re just doing your job and showing them in.”

I was so shocked at his tone, even more so by his words, that I didn’t respond. Hindsight is, of course, twenty-twenty, and I’ve since come up with a million zingers I could have thrown back at him. But in that moment, I was hurt and off-balance.

I showed Mason and Dalton through, offered them pastries and coffee, and ended up standing there awkwardly when they both declined.

“Thank you, Miss Ryder,” Drake said in a mechanical tone. “We won’t be needing you again.”

Mason flashed me a sympathetic look, and I stumbled out, trying to keep as much dignity as possible. I fled to the ladies’ room and had a strong word with myself. What had I expected? That I’d sit down with them and chat? That I’d ask Dalton how things were going with his new cook, Luz, or check in on Mason’s crazy love life? Of course not.

So what if Drake spends most of his free time with a body part inside me. Apparently, I’m not good enough to meet his family. Apparently, my role is to be his secretary and his fuck buddy and nothing more.

That was over an hour ago, and the final nail in the coffin of my day was bumping into Jacob in the hallway. He looked embarrassed when he saw me, and we were forced to have a painfully awkward exchange about the weather. I still feel terrible about the way I treated him, and right then, I was starting to question whether I’d even made the correct choice. I bet Jacob would have introduced me to his family. He wouldn’t be ashamed of me.

The rational side of my brain shouted at me, telling me that I was being silly. Drake and I had agreed together that we would keep this thing secret. He offered to go public if that’s what I wanted. But it still hurt. Maybe if it weren’t so all-or-nothing—if we were able to be public with our friends and families but keep things a secret at work.

Regardless of whether my feelings were appropriate, enough was enough, and it was time to go home. Drake clearly didn’t want me around, Linda was still chasing me for a performance meeting, and the bigger-than-Texas blister on the back of my foot was ready to burst.

I knocked on the door and peeked my head in, and all three of them turned around to look.

“Uh, Mr. James, did you need anything else?”

“Does it look like we do? If I wanted something, Amelia, I would have asked.”

I glared at him. If he was going to treat me like crap, he could at least not “Amelia” me while he did it.

Back at my desk, I sent him a quick email—formal in tone—informing him that I was leaving half an hour early and would make it up on Monday. And now here I am. In the goddamn rain.

I head off toward the subway and nearly burst into tears when I see a sign that says this stop is still closed. To calm myself down, I picture treating myself to a steaming hot bubble bath when I get home, but my fantasy is interrupted by Drake shouting my name.

Refusing to give him a second of my time, I start walking without a thought for where I’m going. Arrogant ass crack.

“Amelia, stop.” His voice isn’t exactly louder, but it’s definitely dripping with that authoritative do-what-I-say-without-question-or-I’ll-take-it-out-on-your-ass quality he does so well.

I stop in my tracks and spin to face him. His car, which was crawling along beside me, stops too. Car horns blare from behind it, and Drake shows zero sign of being the slightest bit perturbed about bringing the busy traffic to a standstill. He’s a selfish ass crack as well as an arrogant one.

The window slides the rest of the way down. “Get in the car.”

A muscle in his jaw pulses, and I scowl back at him, rainwater dripping down my face. “No.”

“Get. In. The. Car.”

I fold my arms across my chest and glare at him while pedestrians hurriedly circle around me. “I believe I’m off the clock, Mr. James, which means you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

His features darken. The car door swings open, and he jumps out and stands right in front of me. I stay fixed to the spot, though. He can glare at me all he likes; he doesn’t intimidate me. What’s he going to do? Fire me?

His powerful hand cups my jaw, and he squeezes hard enough to let me know that he’s not playing around. We’re still close to the office. Anyone could see us out here, but I refuse to back down. I don’t see why I should. He’s been a bastard all day long, and I’ve done nothing to deserve it.

I glare right back at him, defiant even though he has my face clasped in his hand, and I hope he can feel every ounce of rage I throw at him. For a few seconds, he doesn’t speak. He simply stares at me, his dark eyes trying to pierce my soul. Rain quickly soaks his thick hair and the shoulders of his suit jacket.

Why does he have to be so infuriatingly hot? Fighting against my attraction to him is hard, but he’s been a giant asshole. I’m entitled to be angry and hurt.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally speaks. “Get in this car right now, or I swear to god, I will put you over my knee and spank your ass in the middle of the street.”

My cheeks flush hot, and my breath catches in my throat as I process his threat. Part of me wants to call his bluff, see if he’d really do it. But the rational part of my brain knows better. Drake James always follows through on his promises, especially the dangerous ones. “You wouldn’t dare,” I snap, aware my voice lacks any real conviction.

His grip on my jaw tightens slightly. “Try me.”

We stand toe-to-toe, locked in a silent battle of wills as the rain pours down around us. Pedestrians continue to stream by, some openly staring at our confrontation. A particularly loud horn blares behind Drake’s car. With a frustrated sigh, I wrench my face from his grip. “Fine,” I spit out. “But only because I don’t want to cause a scene.”

A triumphant smirk plays at the corners of his mouth as he steps aside, gesturing toward the open car door. I stomp past him, my heels clicking angrily on the wet sidewalk and my blister burning like the surface of the sun. As I slide across the plush leather seat, I feel a mix of irritation at letting him win so easily and relief at being out of the rain and off my feet. Not that he’s won. Getting in the car doesn’t mean I forfeit.

Drake climbs in after me and presses the intercom button to tell Constantine to move. The car pulls smoothly into traffic as I sit rigidly, staring straight ahead so I can avoid looking at him. Thanks to the privacy screen between us and the front seat, I could stab him with my nail file and get away with it.

“You’re soaked,” he observes, his low, dangerous tone sending a shiver down my spine.

I refuse to look at him. “That’s quite the deduction, Einstein. What gave it away?”

He chuckles, and I hate that he’s amused. “Your sharp tongue is still intact, I see.”

“My sharp tongue is the least of your concerns right now.” I finally turn to face him and find his dark eyes fixed on me, intense and unreadable.

“Is that so?” he asks. “And what, pray tell, should be my primary concern, Miss Ryder?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “How about the fact that you just threatened to spank me in public? Or that you’re essentially kidnapping me right now?”

Drake leans back in his seat, looking infuriatingly relaxed. I know how good he is at faking that, though. The man often comes across as being made of stone, no matter how much turmoil he’s in underneath the surface. “Kidnapping? That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think? I’m offering you a ride home.”

“A ride I explicitly refused,” I remind him.

He shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’m a persistent man, Amelia. You should know that by now.”

Persistent? Is that another word for asshole?

I roll my eyes and turn away from him, focusing on the rain-streaked window. Right now, I’m not sure I know him at all. This thing between us has been an emotional rollercoaster, and I’m growing weary of being stuck on the crazy ride. Maybe I’m still dealing with some residual stress from the situation with my mom, but I’m tired of all the sneaking around. Of the power plays. Of him blowing so hot and cold. One day, he’s fucking me on his desk and telling me I’m his; the next, he’s blanking me in front of his family. I thought I could deal with it, but this is impossible.

The city lights blur as we drive through the streets, the silence in the car growing thicker with each passing moment. I am not going to crack, and I will not cry. I won’t give him the satisfaction of telling him how I feel. I will treat this as a free Uber, and he will not be getting a five-star rating.

“My dad had another heart attack,” he announces. I try to stay silent because, really, why should that matter to me? I’m only the secretary. I sneak a glance at him, see the pain on his handsome, rain-soaked face. Shit. I can’t ignore that.

“But he looked fine earlier. When did it happen?”

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “It wasn’t a full-blown attack. A cardiac event, he called it. But it was his heart, Amelia. His fucking heart again. He was in the hospital for two days, and the sneaky fucker didn’t tell any of us. Mason picked him up yesterday, and neither of them bothered to tell the rest of us until today.”

It doesn’t excuse his top-tier ass-hattery today, but a swell of empathy has me taking his hand in mine. He’s been worried about my mom while his dad has been ill. “I’m so sorry, Drake.”

He nods, his throat working as he swallows. “I’ve warned him about his lifestyle and that he needs to take better care of himself, but Dalton James knows best and everyone else can get fucked, right? I mean, does he even give a shit about us if he won’t take care of his health?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t see it like that. Sometimes it’s hard for people to change,” I say, incapable of ignoring the rawness in his voice. That’s what today has all been about—his little performance out there in the rain, his coldness this morning. He was attempting to hide this deep-seated anguish. “Did you argue with him?”

“Worse. I called him a selfish asshole and stormed out of the house. Then Nathan and Mad called me and told me I was being a prick, and I felt like nobody understood how bad this could have been. When Dad and Mase showed up earlier, I called them a pair of selfish assholes, and Dad’s blood pressure shot through the roof. I thought he was going to have another cardiac event right there in my office.”

He’s been dealing with all of this on his own. Unnecessarily so, but still. “Oh, Drake.”

He runs a hand over his face. “Yeah, I know.” He fixes his dark eyes on mine. “But none of that excuses the way I behaved toward you today. As upset as I was with my dad and brother, I shouldn’t have taken any of that out on you.” He laces his fingers through mine. “It’s not enough to simply say I’m sorry, but I am.”

I chew on my lip and try to ignore the pull I feel toward him. I see now there are valid reasons for his bad mood, for the way he’s behaved, but is this how it’s going to be for us? Every time something happens in his life that he doesn’t like, is he going to shut me out like that?

“You treated me like crap today, Drake. I understand why you were upset, but if you’d told me what was happening, I would have been there for you the way you’ve been there for me. To talk it through and support you.”

He nods sheepishly. “I’m not used to having someone I can lean on like that, Amelia. At least outside of my brothers. It’s no excuse, but I am sorry.”

I shake my head. He doesn’t get to be forgiven so easily. “It wasn’t just that you shut me out. You embarrassed me in front of your family. You took your pain out on me. I’d do anything for you, Drake, but I won’t be your emotional punching bag, no matter how much I love you.”

The words slip out without warning. I’ve thought them so many times that I’m amazed it didn’t happen sooner. I clasp my hand over my mouth as though trying to chase them back in. Is there any chance that he didn’t hear? Can I backtrack? And failing that, maybe I could open the car door and do a tuck and roll into traffic like they do on TV.

He stares at me, a frown on his face, and a sense of dread settles over me. I’ve gone too far. It’s too early for love—he’s not ready. He may never be ready. I walked out of that building full of fire and fury, but if this really is the end, I don’t know how I’ll cope.

“You love me?” he says, his voice low and intense. I close my eyes and will myself to become invisible. He takes hold of my jaw again, like he did outside in the rain. “Amelia. I asked you a question. Do you love me?”

“Yes,” I say, slapping his hand away and finally giving in to the tears that have been threatening all day. “Yes, I love you, you infuriating asshole! Believe me, right now I wish I didn’t—but I love you, Drake James. With all my stupid, foolish heart.”

A slow smile creeps across his face, and a rumble of laughter fills the back of the car. I tell him I love him, and he laughs at me? What the hell?

“Good,” he says, dragging me into his arms and holding me there even as I struggle against him. “That’s good to know, Miss Ryder.” He cups my cheek much more tenderly than before while he stares into my eyes. “Because I love you too. More than I’ve ever loved anyone in my entire stupid, foolish life.”

If he weren’t staring at me the way he is, his eyes filled with so much longing and desire, I might think I misheard him. The man who didn’t even do relationships only a few short months ago loves me? Drake James—billionaire sex god with a magical tongue, a smile that can melt my ovaries, and a laugh that can make me forget my own name—loves me?

“You do?”

“I do.” He seals his lips over mine and kisses me so hard that I almost forget what we were arguing about.