Drake’s eyes closed briefly and then settled back on her face. “I owe you an explanation.”
“It’s a little late to be thinking of that now,” she said scornfully.
He shook his head. “Angel, please. Just come inside. Let me explain. Give me five minutes. If you want nothing ever to do with me again after five minutes, I’ll have Maddox drive you wherever you want to go, but it will not fucking be back to work at the run-down rat’s nest where I found you.”
His voice became fierce and his eyes blazed with a savage light. Her breath caught and hung in her throat as his face loomed closer to hers. Raw hunger emanated from the glittering orbs and her pulse accelerated wildly in her veins.
“I swore to provide for your safety and well-being whether I was in the picture or not, and I don’t break my word. You will be free to do what you wish, how you wish, without ever having to mop fucking floors or work in places where I can’t be assured of your security at all times.”
She knew her attempt at a smile was tragic. How could she smile when she was bleeding to death from the inside out? Drake Donovan never broke his word. Oh, but he had. Not only had he broken promises made to her as her dominant, but he’d lied to her. The entire time they were together. It was all one huge lie because nothing had been real.
Except her love for him.
And it was a well-known fact that one-sided love was doomed from the start. She couldn’t love him enough to make up for the fact that he didn’t and would never love her.
“Angel, you break my heart,” he said, his throat clogged with emotion.
“I’d say we’re even then,” she whispered without malice.
5
Drake knew he was being a coward holding off his conversation with Evangeline for as long as possible, but he hadn’t yet figured out exactly what he wanted to say or how to say it. All of his focus and energy over the past few days had been centered on finding his angel. He’d purposely blocked all other thoughts from his mind because he wouldn’t entertain for a moment the thought that he wouldn’t find her and bring her back where she belonged.
But now that he had what he wanted most . . . No, having her back ran a close second to gaining her forgiveness and understanding. Her trust wouldn’t be earned so easily the second time around, and he knew he had to tread carefully. He couldn’t afford another mistake like this one or he’d lose Evangeline forever. He was lucky he hadn’t lost her this time.
You don’t know you haven’t already lost her. She was here physically. But she damn sure wasn’t with him emotionally. She was reserved, in self-protection mode, determined not to give him the power to ever hurt her again.
He paced the floor outside the bathroom of his hotel suite as he waited for Evangeline to reappear after her shower. He’d laid out clothes for her on the counter so she wouldn’t feel vulnerable and at a disadvantage when he cleared the air. Or died trying.
No, she would listen to him. She had to. Evangeline wasn’t like the many other women of his acquaintance. She didn’t emotionally manipulate men—anyone—with tears, nor did she pout or withhold forgiveness in order to punish people.
But everyone had their limits and he hoped like hell that he hadn’t put himself beyond redemption. That he hadn’t done permanent damage to her loving, generous heart. He was jaded and cynical enough for both of them. The idea of Evangeline becoming someone like him—hard, distrustful and suspicious—made him sick to his soul.
You don’t deserve her.
Maybe Hatcher, as fucked up as his reasoning had been, had been right. For the first time, Drake allowed doubt to creep into his mind. Was he doing the wrong thing by fighting for Evangeline? By doing a complete one-eighty and making her his queen, thus rendering her off-limits to anyone who valued not only their material wealth but also their life?
Because no one who knew Drake, whether personally or by reputation only, would ever doubt that if something or someone Drake valued came to harm, he would turn the fucking world over until every last person who even knew of the plan, regardless of whether they actually participated, paid dearly.
Drake would ruin anyone who put a finger on Evangeline. And then the person would die, and it wouldn’t be a quick or merciful death. He would repay ten times over every mark, scratch, hurt, fear or threat Evangeline suffered.
He shook his head, dispelling the cloud of doubt in a pissed-off motion. Hatcher was lucky to still have the use of his limbs after bringing that shit up to Drake’s face. And Drake’s other men hadn’t been any happier about Hatch’s “helpful” suggestion.