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I stared at the box, unsure.
I grabbed my phone and looked at the time. By now, Drake should be at the airfield.
Me: Do you think I should wait to open the box?
Drake: I think you need to do what you think is best for you.
Staring at the phone, I wondered what to think about it all. Seconds later, another text came through.
Drake: You don’t have to come up with the answer right now. You’ll know when it’s time.
Me: You’re right. I’m going to go soak in the tub.
Drake: You’re making me hard thinking about how you slid on my cock earlier in the water.
Me: Maybe I’ll find my vibrator. It’s water safe.
Drake: Fuck.
Me: Yes, that’s what I’ll be doing to myself.
Drake: Baby, when I get done with dinner tonight, I’m calling.
Me: Oh, I like the sound of that. I’ll be waiting.
And just like that, Drake helped clear the stormy seas in my mind. He was my other half. I wanted to be Drake’s in every way, including his wife. But for now, I left the box on the table and headed back to the bathroom to relax in the tub.
Several hours later, I was back in the living room, sipping a glass of red wine on the couch in front of the fireplace. The box called to me like a beacon. What is in there? Unable to stand it a moment longer, I brought the box closer to torment myself.
I took another sip of my wine. The sun had set about three hours earlier, which made it pitch black outside. Without Drake in the cabin with me, it felt a little eerie, so I drew the curtains. The only light came from the fire as it crackled in the otherwise quiet space.
I wish Drake was here. He’d made it into Juneau safely. Dinner had led to drinks at a local bar. Normally, I wasn’t the clingy type, but everything felt off tonight. And I wanted to talk to him. I knew he’d take my call, but he needed to handle his business. This was an amazing opportunity for him. It occurred to me that not knowing what was in the box may have been the reason I was more on edge.
I kept staring at the white box, telling myself how ridiculous I was. Thirty minutes. If I didn’t open the box in the next half hour, I was going to bed—it was nearly midnight.
Five minutes passed. Then ten.
My phone dinged with an email, and I checked it, thankful for the distraction. Time had slowed to a near standstill. The email was from Morgan, the loan officer.
Alexa,
I apologize for the delay. It’s been a busy week, and I’m trying to catch up.
Per your request, I researched our records for all offers made on your land. In accordance with your instructions, we retained the information but did not pass it along to you. Attached is a list of offers received with the amounts and contact information. To each offer, Ms. Owens declined with no counteroffer.
All the best,
Morgan
The blood drained from my face when I opened the attachment. Milano Incorporated had been offering to buy my land every two months, increasing the price significantly each time. This had to be more than the property was worth.
Out of nowhere, a chill crept over my body.
Who are they? What do they want?
First, they wanted Raquel’s land.
Then the Ewings’.
