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"You're not going to tell me what you're planning at all? Maybe I can be helpful. The sooner I help you, the sooner I get to go home. Poor Willow, she's probably worried sick. She doesn't know what happened."
"I left a message with the front desk that you'd been called back to work for an integration emergency, and that you would call her this week."
"There's no way Willow would believe that."
Drake narrowed his gaze at me. "She believes it enough. She hasn't been calling. As long as you check in this week, she'll continue thinking everything is okay."
This was real? He’d let me talk to my sister? The surge of emotion, had me blinking away tears. “You don’t know what this means to me.”
He watched me carefully before standing up and going to the cabinet.
I could hardly be blamed if I was picturing him in just his boxer briefs as they molded to him. I was human after all. I had eyeballs.
In the cupboard was a small safe. His body was covering the code, so I couldn't see it. But soon it chirped and opened, and then Drake turned around and handed me something I hadn't seen in days.
My phone.
Hope. Having my phone back felt like hope. I wouldn’t be so cut off and isolated. This was my connection to home.
"Obviously, you don't know where you are, so you can't tell her anything specific. Keep it brief. Let her know that you're fine. Ask her about the wedding, what she decided about the venue, those kind of details. Let her believe you’re in Barcelona on a job like she expects you to be."
My hands shook as I took the phone. "You’ll let me talk to my sister?"
He nodded. "Yes.”
“You’re not worried that I’ll say something about you, Reginald, the house, or anything like that?”
He cocked his head and studied me. “No, I’m not. Not anymore."
My brow furrowed. "Why not?"
“I want you to trust me. So I’m going to trust you.”
My gaze flickered from him to Reginald. Reginald was watching Drake. I couldn't read his expression, but when his gaze met mine, he smiled at me kindly. "Go on, call your sister. The cornbread is just about to be out of the oven."
My heart pounded as I turned my phone on. Shockingly, I didn't have any phone calls. Not even the office had called to check on me. Fuck. My stomach fell. Nothing like realizing that you were irrelevant to everyone in your life.
There were, however, dozens of texts from Talia. Some were about funny work things. Some were about the new bloke she was chatting to. Some asking me if I had shagged Drake yet.
"Can I text Talia? She has left twenty-six messages. Oops, no, twenty-seven."
"Yeah. There's nothing you can tell her anyway."
"Besides. If I told her you kidnapped me, she would think that I was the luckiest girl in the world."
Drake, cocky arsehole that he was, leaned back in his chair and grinned at me, lifting his chin in my direction. "Oh, yeah?"
"You're disgusting."
The cocky grin turned into a bright wide one, and I was momentarily stunned. I didn't think I'd ever seen him smile like that before. Not a proper full-on grin. One that said he was having fun. Playful Drake was even more dangerous than Dangerous Drake because the danger was still there underneath the surface, but on the outside, he looked open and welcoming, friendly. Like someone you could care about. Also, while he was dangerously sexy when he was brooding. That smile was genetically bred for one purpose and one purpose only…dropping knickers.
I dialed my sister's number and waited for her to pick up. "Does it have to be on speaker?"
Reginald said, "No, love, you just talk to her. Go on. You can walk about the house. I'm confident you will not try and kill me in my sleep."
My shoulders sagged, because the first night I was brought here I’d wondered if I was going to have to. When Willow answered, her voice was somber. "Daph?"
"Yeah, kiddo, how is it going?"
