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But it wasn’t real.
The engagement part, at least.
I rolled my shoulders back and twisted my body a little to the left, then to the right. I couldn’t fight the smile that curled the corners of my mouth at the slight ache still present in my muscles from Saturday night. It was almost like I could still feel Drake’s hands on my body. His firm touch demanded a reaction, and honestly, my body was only too happy to oblige.
In my experience with men, the ones who liked to be in charge usually were that way so they could get what they wanted and needed. With Drake, it wasn’t like that at all. It felt more like his commanding presence was so he could make sure he gave me what I needed before anything else.
And that was the sexiest thing I think I’ve ever experienced.
I knew when that ache in my body disappeared, I’d be disappointed.
I’d want more.
But I was resigned to the fact that might not be possible, given we didn’t trade numbers or even full names. And honestly, I was pretty sure we lived in two completely different worlds. Ones that didn’t often mix.
It was hard to shake off those heavy thoughts about how I wasn’t good enough to be in that rich, extravagant lifestyle I’d caught glimpses of during the few hours I spent with Drake. Though, in my gut, I knew there was more to him than money. He was smart, he was driven, and he treated women with an otherworldly kind of respect, which I knew to some might actually feel overbearing, but I almost found myself craving now I’d had a taste of it.
The bell on the door rang, and I leaped to my feet, switching off my overly analytical brain and forcing a smile on my face, ready to welcome the next customer. I placed my hands on the glass counter in front of me and leaned into it. “Hi there! Welcome to—”
“Cassidy.” His voice hadn’t changed. Not really. Maybe it was a little deeper, or maybe I’d just been happy to forget the sound. “Long time, no see.”
I forced my shoulders back.
“Brian.”
The second the front door slammed shut behind me, I knew I should’ve run.
My flight response blared, screaming at me to get the hell out of there, but my fight response was in reality nowhere to be seen since it had been beaten out of me for so long.
“You want to tell me what the hell that was?” Brian demanded, his heavy footsteps following me through the entryway and into the kitchen. The hard thud of each step made me jump like I was just waiting for the one that was going to hit my body instead of the floor. “Cassidy!” he snapped, grabbing hold of my arm and spinning me around. His fingers digging into my muscle had me pulling away, my body unconsciously trying to escape the pain.
That was a mistake.
I pressed back against the kitchen counter as he towered over me, his eyes narrowed and nostrils flared like an angry bull.
“I… don’t…” I stumbled over the words, trying to find the right ones—if there was such a thing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Usually, I knew what I’d done.
Said the wrong thing.
Spoke when I shouldn’t have.
Contradicted him.
I had a list in my head I went through, mentally matching it with every single conversation I’d had, every move I’d made. It made things easier because I could just apologize, whether I was in the wrong or not, and hope like hell he accepted it.
But this time, I was drawing a blank.
He let out a loud burst of laughter and stepped back, throwing his hands in the air. “Yeah, right, you don’t even know.”
We’d been out to dinner with his brother, Emmett, and a couple of the guys from his work and their wives. I’d actually enjoyed myself, chatting with the other women, looking at pictures of their children and hearing about their jobs. One of them was a social media manager—something I had no idea was even an occupation, given Brian said it was better if I didn’t get on Facebook and stuff like that.
“I don—” He grabbed me by the hair, and I screamed, tears streaking my cheeks as he dragged me through the living room to the sliding door that led out to the backyard. He yanked it open and tossed me out, lifting his foot and driving it into my hip, sending me sprawling onto the concrete patio. It was wet because it had been raining, and as the sound of thunder boomed over my head, I could tell it wasn’t quite done.
“Let me refresh your memory for a second,” he spat, his hands gripping the doorway. “You told Liam’s girlfriend that you’d love to move back to Boston.”
Jesus.
