Chapter 196
Elsa
Drake's eyes held mine for a long moment, then he opened his car door and stepped out. Standing before me in his impeccable suit, he somehow managed to make the sidewalk look like his personal territory.
"Let me take you to dinner," he said. It wasn't quite a request, but it wasn't his usual command either.
"As an apology," he added when I didn't respond.
"I don't think that's a good idea," I replied, turning away, my hands clenched into fists at my sides to stop their trembling.
"Elsa." The way he said my name made me pause. "Please."
I glanced back at him, then at the growing number of curious onlookers. Great. More fodder for the rumor mill. I could already imagine tomorrow's whispers: "Saw her getting into Stone's car after work..." My stomach twisted with anxiety.
With a resigned sigh, I walked back to his car. "Fine. But this doesn't mean shit, you understand? I'm just hungry and tired of fighting."
Drake's lips curved into a satisfied smile as he held the door for me. I slid into the familiar leather seat, immediately enveloped by his scent. It sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine, and I pressed my thighs together, cursing my body's involuntary response.
As he settled into the driver's seat, I turned to him. "Where's Taylor?"
"Taking Emma home," Drake replied, pulling smoothly into traffic.
My eyebrows shot up. "You had Taylor babysit her?" I couldn't keep the incredulous edge from my voice.
"I had him escort her home. There's a difference."
I snorted and turned to look out the window, chewing on my lower lip until I tasted blood again.
"Was my apology satisfactory?" Drake asked after a moment of silence.
I turned to stare at him incredulously, my mouth hanging open slightly, but he was focused on the road, his profile sharp and unreadable in the fading light.
Words failed me. I shook my head and returned to watching the city pass by outside, acutely aware of his presence beside me, my fingers drumming an anxious rhythm against my thigh.
---
Taylor
I found Emma exactly where Drake said she'd be—slumped over the bar at Moonlight Lounge, surrounded by empty shot glasses. Her blonde hair was disheveled, mascara smudged under her eyes like raccoon marks. She looked nothing like the polished assistant who had started at Stone Enterprises three weeks ago.
"Fucking hell," I muttered under my breath, rubbing my temples. This was the last thing I needed after twelve hours of damage control from her morning stunt.
I straightened my tie and adjusted my expression to neutral before approaching. My shoulders tensed as I caught the sickly sweet scent of too many fruity cocktails mixed with her floral perfume.
"Emma," I said, touching her shoulder and immediately regretting it when she swayed dangerously on her stool. "Time to go."
She jerked upright, eyes unfocused as she squinted at me. "Taylor?" A slow, sloppy smile spread across her face. "Did Drake send you?" Her words slurred together, and I had to lean back to avoid the wave of alcohol on her breath.
I kept my expression neutral, though my jaw clenched involuntarily. "Yes." And I'm not fucking happy about it , I added silently, glancing at my watch. I was supposed to be off the clock three hours ago.
"He finally realized I'm better than that assistant, didn't he?" She grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my sleeve like talons. I winced as one broke through the fabric. "I knew he would. We belong together, you know. We dated in high school."
I gently pried her fingers loose, suppressing an eye roll. "We need to leave now." Before you embarrass yourself—and by extension, the company—any further , I thought, scanning the bar to see how many witnesses there were to her current state.
"No," she pouted, turning back to her drink and nearly knocking it over. "I'm celebrating. Tomorrow's my birthday. Drake will remember. "
Jesus Christ , I thought, exhaling slowly through my nose. The delusion is strong with this one . I'd been working for Drake for five years, and I knew for a fact he barely remembered his own birthday, let alone those of temporary staff.
I took a step back and pulled out my phone, my fingers tapping an irritated rhythm against its case as I texted Drake, updating him on the situation. The three dots appeared immediately—at least someone was prompt—and his response flashed on screen: Let her stay. Watch her until midnight, then make sure she gets home safely.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I hissed under my breath, staring at the message. My dinner plans with my girlfriend were officially ruined.
I sighed heavily and settled onto the barstool next to Emma, ordering a club soda for myself. The bartender gave me a knowing look—he'd seen plenty of corporate babysitters like me before.
"So," I said, forcing conversation as Emma swirled her straw in what appeared to be her sixth or seventh drink. "How are you finding Stone Enterprises so far?"
Emma launched into a rambling monologue about Drake's apparent secret signals to her, gesturing so wildly I had to catch her drink twice to prevent spillage. My eyes glazed over as I checked my watch every few minutes, feeling each second of my personal time evaporating.
It was going to be a long, fucking night.
At exactly midnight, I stepped outside to take a call from my girlfriend, my shoulders hunched as I apologized for another ruined evening.
"I'll make it up to you tomorrow," I promised, leaning against the wall. "Dinner at that new place you've been wanting to try."
When I ended the call five minutes later, I returned to the bar with a renewed determination to get Emma into a taxi and end this miserable assignment.
My heart stopped when I saw her empty stool.
"Shit!" I cursed, spinning around to scan the room. Emma's purse was gone. Only an empty glass remained where she had been sitting, a smear of red lipstick on the rim.
"The blonde?" the bartender asked, raising an eyebrow at my panicked expression. "Left with some guy. "
My stomach dropped as I pulled out my phone to call Drake. Fuck, fuck, fuck , I thought, already imagining Drake's cold fury when I told him I'd lost track of his unstable assistant.