Gone With the Wolf (15 page)

“This time,” she said, “let’s watch it at your place.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Do you pull all-nighters often?” Emelia asked as they pulled into a Starbucks in Beacon Hill, a quaint area in southern Seattle.

“Not usually.” He zipped through the drive-through, stopping when they reached the order sign. “But tonight’s a special occasion. There’s something I want to show you.”

Doing a little dance inside, Emelia checked the time on the dash. 5:00 a.m. She may have been used to staying up late, but even this was pushing it. Surprisingly, she wasn’t tired. Not with Drake sitting beside her, massaging her thigh, gazing at her like he wanted to do naughty things with her in the backseat…if only Roadsters had backseats, damn it.

As Drake rolled down the driver’s-side window, Emelia leaned across the center console and peered at the glowing sign. Drake’s body radiated heat, his chest resting against hers, his breath coating her ear in a deliciously warm wave.

“Welcome,” a male’s voice greeted, much too chipper for the early hour. “What can I get you?”

“A grande—” Emelia yelped as Drake’s palm patted the round of her backside and his teeth grazed her ear. “Stop that.” Emelia glared into Drake’s mischievous eyes. Her chest warmed and her blood quickened its rush through her veins. “I’m sorry,” she said into the speaker, leaning further over the car’s stick shift. “I’d like a grande quadruple—”

“I’d like to give you a quadruple shot,” Drake whispered, then spanked her with a loud
smack!

Emelia screamed as she lurched forward, then fell back into her seat. “Do you want me to order or not?” she said, unable to fight the laughter bubbling within her.

Drake nodded, and tucked his hands beneath his legs. “From now on, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Eyeing him skeptically, Emelia leaned forward once more. “Sorry about that,” she yelled. “I’d like a grande quadruple zebra mocha, and a—” Stopping, Emelia met Drake’s eyes. They’d turned from playful to lustful in a heartbeat. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want.” The words were a cat’s purr, deep and rumbling off his tongue.

Hell yes
, she knew what he wanted. And she wanted the same thing.

Using one of the hands that were supposed to be on lockdown, Drake massaged Emelia’s back, then swept around her waist and dipped between her legs. Emelia’s breath whooshed out of her lungs and her mouth dried. As Drake stroked the juncture between her thighs, Emelia realized she really didn’t need air to refill her lungs. Air was seriously overrated. As long as Drake kept doing—oh God,
that
—she’d be fine.

“I’d also like a grande black coffee.” Emelia’s eyes fluttered closed as Drake’s fingers swirled teasingly over the seam in her jeans. She spread her legs and arched her back, earning a groan of approval from Drake’s lips. She went damp from his touch, and began to quiver with need.

“You should change your drink to a venti,” Drake said, a little too loud. “Once you hear all the kinky things I’m going to do to you, you’ll want to be up all damn day.”

“Uh, thanks for the offer, sir,” the man from the speaker blurted, “but I don’t get off work until two this afternoon.”

Drake and Emelia erupted with laughter, and didn’t stop until they’d paid for their drinks, handsomely tipped the eager barista, and put Starbucks in the rearview.

…

“I left my coffee in the car,” Emelia said. “Don’t you trust that I can be blindfolded, walk, and drink coffee at the same time?”

She tripped over a sidewalk curb and stumbled, latching on to Drake’s arm before her nose met the concrete.

“Not hardly.” Drake hauled her against him. “I’ll get your coffee for you in a second. Just hold on to me for now. You’re going to love what I’m about to show you, I promise. After this we’ll go back to my place. I’ll make you breakfast in bed and we can roll around in the sheets all day.”

Sounded like perfection if she’d ever heard it.

Drake had blindfolded Emelia with the tie he’d pulled out of the glove compartment. The instant he draped it over her eyes, she breathed in. It smelled like him—spicy and rich. She had no clue exactly where they were, or what was going on, but as long as she was with Drake, she really didn’t care.

“Another step up,” he said, helping her over a stoop. “And another.”

“Drake, what’s going on?” Her voice squeaked a bit, and she hated it.

Keys jingled. A door swept open, drenching them in the sweet scent of espresso and…was that the spicy, pungent smell of seasoned fish? Drake escorted Emelia over a threshold and into some sort of large space that echoed the stomping of his boots as they walked deeper inside. The place was warm and took away the chill from Emelia’s bones immediately. And from the peeking space between Drake’s tie and her nose, Emelia could tell the floor was hardwood. Glossy and probably slippery.

“Okay, Emie,” Drake said, releasing her arm. “I know you’re going to freak out when you see what’s in front of you, but you have to promise to hear me out.”

“Can I at least see what’s in front of me while I’m listening?” She reached out her hands as she took another step forward and bumped into a clunky piece of furniture.

“All right.” He was proud, his voice stern and commanding. “Go ahead.”

Uncertain as hell, Emelia slipped the tie over her head…and stared at a bar full of mirrors and pink decor, twinkling lights, bulky tables, and gold-rimmed barstools. In the back of the bar, an espresso station had been set up, and next to that, a spit-shield guarding what looked like a sushi stand.

Smiling, Drake spread his arms to his sides like a grand-master emcee. “What do you think?”

“Umm,” she said, biting her thumbnail. “What do I think about what?”

“Your new bar.”

Oh, hells to the no.

“What do you mean by new—new as in, you bought this place for
me
?” Confusion and anger surged through Emelia’s veins, but she clamped down the emotions, certain she’d missed something.

Drake nodded and charged around the long, sweeping bar, to where the bartender would stand serving drinks. The top tier racks were full, overflowing onto the ones below. “It’s called Cosmo’s. It’s in a great area and the prior owner ran the place phenomenally. The neighboring businesses are rising and the climate is well-to-do, but not fussy. Right now the place is set up to serve wine, liquor, coffee, sushi, and what one might consider ‘bar food,’ though you could really change the menu however you wanted it once you got settled. So…what do you think? It’s perfect, right?”

“What the hell, Drake?” Emelia’s chest seized. This wasn’t what she wanted. “We’ve been bonded for what, an hour? You’re buying me property already? What were you thinking?”

She spun around, absorbing every glowingly irritating detail in the room. Bright-pink illuminated martini glasses perched over the mirror behind the bar, matching the decals on the walls on the front and sides of the room. The espresso machine gurgled, matching the souring in her middle.

“I purchased it last week and got a hell of a deal,” he said proudly. He folded his arms and leaned over the bar. “Emelia, I saw the profits and losses for the Knight Owl. People from Wilder Financial have researched other businesses on the street. I know you’ve put your heart and soul into that place, but I just don’t see it working.”

She chuckled exasperatedly, though what she really wanted to do was rip the martini glass off the wall and slam it against Drake’s head so he’d listen to what she’d been saying for the past few weeks. “So you thought you’d just sell my bar before it goes under completely, and have me manage this one instead?”

“It’d be a smart business move to sell it, Emie,” he said, coming around the bar to stand beside her. He draped his arm over her shoulder and gazed at the exposed rafters as if it was some kind of majestic painting. “Look at this place—the mirrors, the various food and drink bars, the options for customers. It’s exactly what people want.”

“It’s exactly what yuppies want!” she yelled, coming apart inside. “This place has zero personality.”

“That’s not true. Look, there’s a poster of Marilyn Monroe over there.”

“Yeah, I see her.” Emelia chomped on her bottom lip. “I also see the velvet zebra-stripe frame she’s stuck in. Come on, Drake, seriously? If this isn’t a joke, I’m going to kill you where you stand.”

Removing his arm from around her shoulder, Drake took a step back. “Listen, I know you’re holding on to the Knight Owl because you put so much time and money into the place and it’s hard to let go of a sour investment, but you’ve got to look at this from a purely business standpoint. This move makes sense.”

“It makes sense for who, Drake?” Brazen annoyance licked through her insides, heating her skin until she thought she’d combust. “For you?”

He slapped his hands against his sides. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“I don’t want to run just any ole bar in Seattle, Drake. I want
my
bar.”

“This is your bar now too, except this one is going to succeed.”

Emelia flinched. That one stung. “If I
did
want another bar, which I don’t, I’d want one with color and depth and warmth. One that stands out from the crowd, built in a historic building with newspaper clippings on the wall. I’d want a bar that’s different, with a unique feel. This one feels cold, like it has no heart at all.”

His expression hardened. “Then take it over and add your usual Emelia flair to it. Make it your own. At least the business is already thriving so you won’t have to struggle the way you are now. You would have the money to step in and change it to make it fit whatever you want.”

“You don’t get it.” She couldn’t breathe in this place. Her chest was tight, her throat constricting. She backed away, closer to the exit and farther from Drake. “I want my bar because I clawed and fought my way to get it. I want it because I built it on my own, from the ground up. Because of all I’ve done for the place, I have a greater sense of pride when I see it do well, or when I see a good review of it online. No one can take that joy away from me.”

“Your buddy Needles took it away easy enough.”

“You ass.” She stormed him, standing on tiptoe to stare into his smoldering brown eyes. “How dare you throw that in my face.”

“It’s the truth.”

“You know, maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m too stupid to fit into your business-minded world.” She didn’t feel stupid, she felt foolish. She’d been right before. They didn’t fit together. They were too different.

He reached out for her, but dropped his hand. “Emelia, I didn’t say you were stupid, it’s just that we’re arguing about apples and oranges. Joy doesn’t always have to come from fighting your way through something. If you take a chance on a business and it does well, you celebrate and enjoy that victory. If something doesn’t do well, you cut your losses and move on.”

Frustration soured Emelia’s stomach. “You talk about this stuff like it’s so distant from you. Like you don’t really care what you own as long as it turns a profit.”

“I don’t understand why you insist on holding on to something that’s crumbling in your hands.”

That was it. Emelia couldn’t stand there while he kept hopping over a line that he shouldn’t have crossed to begin with. Not tonight. “The Knight Owl might not crumble if I give it all I have,” she said.

“After what just happened at the drive-in, I thought we’d do everything together. Guess I was wrong.” Drake went rigid, leaning against one of the exposed wooden support posts standing oddly in the center of the room. “Damn it, Emelia, this place was an investment in our future together. I didn’t just buy this bar for you, I bought it for both of us.”

“That’s just it,” she seethed. “You said it yourself. Right there.
I
bought the bar.
For
you. I don’t need you to do anything for me.”

“So I can’t buy my wife anything or she won’t be able to enjoy it?” His voice boomed so loud it rattled the mirror against the wall behind her. “Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”

“You know what’s ridiculous, Drake?” As deep-rooted anger flared and burned inside her, Emelia let her frustration fly. “The fact that you now have control over your father’s pack because we bonded tonight and—”

“We’re going there again, are we?”

She glowered, fuming, ears burning.

His eyes rolled. “Continue.”

“Like I was saying,” she bit out. “I’ve probably made you one of the most powerful men on the planet, yet you can’t seem to let me have the
one thing
I’ve worked so hard for.”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? This whole time, all you’ve wanted was for me to just hand over your bar, and give it to you on a damned silver platter.”

“No!”
Why didn’t he understand?
“I want you to acknowledge the fact that you’re dodging things. Once again, the expert dodger is ignoring the big-ass elephant in the room.”

“I’m so tired of having to interpret what you say all the time. Would you just spit it out and say what you mean? In English?”

Emelia shook her head, hands clenching into fists. “You think I’m ridiculous, that I’m just some blond bimbo who’s better off as your secretary than a business owner. You think my decisions don’t make sense. How about this, I’m going to lay it all out on the line for you.”

“I’m holding my breath.” Drake waved his hands in front of him in a give-it-to-me motion. “Come on, Emelia, out with it.”

“You expect to have everything—the woman, the Luminary, the flourishing businesses, the yachts and mansions across the world—yet you sacrifice
nothing
. Not one fucking thing! But you expect
me
to sacrifice the one thing I’ve worked my ass off for, because you think it makes better sense to invest elsewhere. Well fuck you, Drake Wilder. Fuck you and the limo you rode in on.”

“Real nice, Emelia.” His jaw clenched wildly. “Why don’t you stop before you say something you don’t mean.”

“Here’s something I mean with all my heart.” Her ears drummed with hot rushes of blood. “I’m going to give you a business tip…I don’t do what I’m supposed to do. Ever. I don’t think the way I should and I live my life swinging by my heartstrings. I’m probably the worst investment in a life partner that a guy like you could make.”