All I Am: Drew's Story (This Man 3.5)

little girl. “No problem.”

She recoils, a little surprised. “Thank you.” She thought I’d refuse. Why would I do that? Just to spite her?

“Won’t be long, Daddy!” Georgia muscles her mother out of the way and zooms into the house, reappearing moments later with her coat and shoes, but still only one pigtail.

“Come here, silly.” I kneel and gather her remaining locks into a hair tie.

“Can we play basketball again, Daddy?”

“No, you always win.” My shoulder starts to ache again, just at the mention of the wretched game. “How about the cinema?” I suggest, opening the door. She jumps in and lets me buckle her up.

“Can we watch Beauty and the Beast?”

“Sure we can.” I plant a kiss on her forehead. “And then we’ll get takeout and chill at home. What do you say?”

“Can we make our secret tent? With blankets and pillows?”

“Yes!” I sing, all excited. I’m not faking it either. “And I have something for you.” I pull out the mobile phone that I’ve been waiting to give her. “Now you can call me when you’re with Mummy.”

Her eyes, like sparkling precious gems, widen in astonishment. “Oh my gosh, Daddy!” She seizes it from my hands and immediately starts fiddling with buttons.

“My number is already stored.” I point to the screen. “And it’s only for you to call or text me. Or me to call and text you. Nothing else, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good girl.” Dropping a kiss in her hair, I shut the door and jump in the front, catching sight of Coral as I pull away. She’s on the doorstep, watching us, a mist of wasted hope swirling around her.

* * *

I push open the door of my apartment and smile as Georgia bursts in and tears through like a hurricane. Home feels like home again when she’s back. “I think Daddy fed you too much sugar at the cinema,” I call, hearing the door to her bedroom crash open and then the unmistakable screech of springs as she dives on her bed.

Tossing my keys on the table, I go straight to the fridge and pull out a beer, rooting through my pocket for my mobile when it sounds. It’s the office. “Andrea,” I greet, walking through to the lounge to find Georgia has already dragged in the duvets from both our beds.

“Hey,” Andrea says, sounding a little exasperated. “We have a problem.”

“What’s up?” I land in a chair and take a sip of my beer.

“I’ve had to send Henry home. He’s been vomiting all over the office.”

I grimace. “Nice.”

“He’s supposed to be valuing a house in Belgravia. I can’t get it covered.”

My shoulders drop. “Andrea, I have Georgia.” At the mention of her name, my daughter marches into the room with a stack of pillows in her arms, dropping them to the middle of the floor before heading back to the bedrooms.

“I know, and I wouldn’t ask, but the seller has already had two other agents out and is keen to get it on the market.”

I sigh. “Send me the details.” I’m a businessman, and I don’t let business slip through my fingers, especially business in Belgravia.

“Thanks, Drew.”

I hang up and go find Georgia, my insides already tightening with guilt. “Hey, pidge.”

“Daddy, will you be my beast?” she asks, twirling on the spot.

“Well, you’re undeniably Belle.” I sit on the edge of her bed and let her climb onto my lap. “So I guess I can be your beast.” I tug on her pigtail and she giggles.

“You’re a handsome beast.”

I laugh, standing with her attached to my front. “Why thank you, Belle.” I pucker my lips and she indulges my demand for a kiss as I walk through to the kitchen. “Now, I have a proposition for you.”

She pulls back, her little face wrinkling warily. “We’re just pretending, Dad. I can’t marry you.”

She’s just the damn cutest thing in the world. “I have to pop to work for an hour.” I feel rotten when her tiny shoulders slump, disappointment clouding her gorgeous little face. “Just for an hour, I promise.”

“Can I come?”

“No, pidge. You’re going somewhere better.” I put my beer back in the fridge.

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise.” I drop her to her feet. “Go get your coat and shoes on.”

She races off, the promise of a surprise replacing the disappointment with excitement. I might be jumping the gun here. I haven’t even checked. I pull up my contacts list and go straight to the boss.

Ava answers in two rings. “Hey, you.”

“I need a huge favor.”

* * *

We roll up at Jesse’s place half an hour later, and Georgia is out of my car as soon as I come to a stop, squealing in excitement the moment Maddie appears on the doorstep with a collection of Barbie dolls. “Thanks, Ava. I owe you.”

“No problem. Take as long as you need.”

“Where’s Jesse?”

She points across the drive, and I spy him through the trees with his boy Jacob, kicking a ball around. I cup my mouth with both hands and shout, “Foul!”

Jesse looks up and waves, taking his eye off the ball for just one second. A second is all it takes. “Goal!” Jacob pulls his Manchester United shirt up over his head and starts circling his dad, arms in the air as he chants. I laugh, though my mate is less than amused.

“See ya!” I jump in my car and race across town to Belgravia.

Chapter 4

I take in the impressive row of white stucco-fronted Georgian terraces on the fancy street, my gaze drifting across the road to the private gardens that also boast tennis courts. It’s one of the best addresses around these parts and would be an amazing addition to Davies portfolio. Property around here is like gold dust, millionaires waiting in the wings for word of something coming to market. My charm is well and truly turned on.

I climb the steps to a shiny black door with gold fittings, all highly polished as expected, as I check the name of the vendor on the message Andrea sent. Rivers. Mrs.? Mr.? A quick rap of the elaborate doorknocker is enough before I straighten my suit and turn on the smile I need when in business mode.

The door opens.

And my smile falls.

“Raya?” I step back, as does she, her smile falling, too.

“Drew, what are you doing here?” She glances left and right. “I’m expecting someone.”

“Yeah.” I pull my card out of my pocket and hold it up. “Me.”

Realization dawns as she stares down at my card. “Davies.” Another step back. “You’re Davies of Davies & Partners?”

“And now you know what I do for a living.”

She’s casual in an oversized silk T-shirt and baggy trousers, her hair piled high with layers falling across her face. And no makeup. How can someone look so utterly stunning with no makeup on?

She owns this place? Fucking hell, I’ve not even stepped foot in the grand Georgian palace yet, but I already know we’re talking tens of millions. I’ve dealt with property like this endless times, but never before has it felt so intimidating.

“You know, if this is too awkward I can go.” I’m begging, properly begging, for her to say no. This woman has been on my mind, crawling all over my skin, from the moment I set eyes on her. And now my curiosity just went through the roof. The opportunity to potentially peel back a few layers and try to answer some of my unrelenting questions is too tempting to resist. Not to mention the urge to feel her against my skin again.

“Umm…” She bites her lip, clearly torn, while I wait with bated breath for her to decide. “It’s fine.” Shaking her head, she opens up the way to me. “Come in.”

My heart beats harder as I step into…her house? “Thanks.”

“Do you want a drink?” Her question is full of uncertainty as she leads the way down the hall to some stairs.

“Some water would be good.” I need some moisture in my mouth fast.

“The kitch

en is in the basement.” She leads me down some polished wooden stairs, and we step into the kitchen.

I force my eyes away from her so I can scan the space. “Nice,” I say, taking in the perfectly traditional room, all cherry wood and dark marble, with double doors leading into a small courtyard. The spotlights shining down from the ceiling reflect off the stone counters, sending shards of amber lights streaking up the cream walls.

Raya fetches a glass of water and hands it to me. Our fingers brush. Our eyes meet. Electric shocks tingle up my arm. She swallows. “I should show you around.”

This is painfully awkward. “Sure.”

“So, this is the kitchen.” She motions around and wanders through to an adjoining room. “Casual dining room and chill out space.” Three huge leather couches are arranged in a U-shape around a TV hanging on the wall. “I’m down here most of the time.”

I’m down here most of the time. Not we? “Five floors?” I ask, not bothering to take notes. I’m pretty sure my hands wouldn’t be steady anyway, so I start mentally storing details in what vacant space I have in my mind—space Raya isn’t hogging.

“Including the basement and attic space, yes.” Our gazes collide, and she quickly looks away again.

Coughing my throat clear, I wander around, my spinning mind starting to make me dizzy. She’s a sports therapist. How the hell can she afford this place? My eyes home in on a collection of photographs across the way, neatly arranged on a console table. My feet are carrying me over before I can stop myself, my curiosity out of control.

There are at least a dozen pictures, all Raya in various places across the world. She’s in front of the Louvre doing a cartwheel, she’s in front of the White House doing a handstand, she’s outside a temple meditating. I smile, completely struck by the beauty shining from her in every picture, by the potency of her happiness. In every picture, she’s beaming, whether she’s looking at the camera or not. And then my smile fades as I see the final photograph. I move forward without thought, taking in the couple standing in the clouds at the top of a mountain. Raya and a man.

My shoulder jars as she passes me swiftly, taking the picture and laying it face down. I flinch at the brief contact.

“There’s a gym through here and a sauna and Jacuzzi.” She gets on her way, leaving me motionless by the console table, my eyes passing between Raya’s back and the picture that I now can’t see.

My frown is too deep to hide as I follow her down a narrow corridor, emerging into a well-equipped gymnasium. “Do you work out mu—” My arm brushes hers as I enter, the heat burning away the remaining words of my question. I swallow hard, flicking a look at her. She’s not looking at me, but she’s holding her arm where I just touched her.

“Not really.” She nods through to another room. “The spa is through there.”

I force myself to the doorway, scanning the white-tiled space. “All maintained and working?” I ask, battling to bring us back to business.

“Yes.” She backs out of the room, turning on her bare feet. “I’ll show you the other floors.”

How on earth am I going to manage another four floors? “Six bedrooms?” I ask, following her back down the corridor and up the stairs from the kitchen. Her cropped trousers give me a perfect view of her slender ankles, my eyes placing that spreader bar there again.

“Seven,” she says over her shoulder. “All doubles, five with en-suites. But first the lounge and the formal dining room.”

It doesn’t matter how hard I try; my mind is way too occupied by Raya to pay close attention to the house I’m here to value. I barely register the grandeur, hardly absorb the exquisite luxury surrounding me. There is only Raya.

This woman radiates sex. She’s cryptic. She is temptation personified, and it’s a constant struggle not to grab her and kiss her. Or to tie her down and get the information my annoying head is demanding. I can’t take my eyes off her. Can’t dampen down the constant flow of questions. She’s like a magnet, pulling and pushing me away.

My heart is pulsing in my ears by the time we make it upstairs, my restraint bending every time our eyes meet. It’s going to break soon. I can see a replay of last night rolling in her dark eyes, her mind clearly not focused on giving me a tour, her hands shaking every time she points something out, her breathing labored when she talks to me.

When we enter the first bedroom, I make a point of ignoring the bed. In the second bedroom, I do the same. By the third bedroom, I’m crying inside. By bedroom four, I’m starting to shake with the resistance it’s taking to ignore the fact that I have her in a house alone with seven fucking beds all screaming at me to mess up the perfectly made covers. Bedroom five I barely step foot in. Bedroom six I simply poke my head inside, and as I back up, I collide with Raya and jump out of my skin, feeling panic beginning to set in. “Sorry!” I blurt.

“My fault.” She rests her hand on my forearm, and a heat like no other burns my bloodstream. Our eyes meet. My hunger turns into starvation—starvation for her, for skin-on-skin contact. To get in her mind. But all that defies her request for remaining emotionless. And I know for sure I don’t need this complication in my life. My feelings right now are simply because of an aching cock and a misplaced hunger for answers to questions that I wish would fuck right off. I don’t trust women, and I definitely shouldn’t trust this mysterious, cagey woman. But is she fighting the gravitational pull that’s distorting everything, too? My God, I need to leave. Now.

I start to head for the stairs, feeling the walls closing in around me, but as I pass bedroom seven, my urgent pace grinds to a stop and I’m drawn inside. The world stops happening and I inhale, smelling her on every surface in the room. Once again, my reason abandons me. The bed, the clothes she had on last night lying on the back of a pink suede armchair, her heels kicked off at the side. The burning ache within me amplifies, and my head swims with the memory of every second I had her restrained and at my mercy. But somehow, now I realize that it was entirely me at her mercy. Just like now. This woman is stirring something in me.

I hear the light pad of her bare feet on the thick cream carpet and slowly cast my eyes to the side. She’s looking at me. Reading me. Absorbing me. What is she thinking?

“Fuck.” I breathe, and before I can rethink my intention, I’ve seized her and plastered my chest to hers, forcing her up against a nearby wall.

Our mouths, only an inch apart, fight for the same air. Reaching up to her face, I trace the line of her cheekbone, her gaze seeping into mine. My world stills, like those moments of frozen time when you can see with perfect clarity every tiny thing before you. When you can appreciate its beauty and marvel at the details.

I raise my forearms and rest them on the wall on either side of her head, caging her in, my body pushing into hers a little bit more. “Your eyes,” I whisper, searching them as she searches mine. “They were alive when I had you in that room.” That’s what was missing when I first saw her at the bar. Life. Perhaps even purpose. “You didn’t just want what I could give you. You wanted me. You want me now, too.” I can’t ignore the blinding sparkle in her gaze. They’re alive.

She nods as she breathes heavily in my face. “You were supposed to be cold.”

“Did I make you forget?”

“Yes.”

“Then I did half my job.” My eyes scan her face, taking their time. “Can you forgive me for failing on the other half of our deal?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“I was at Hux to avoid the complications of feelings. To get lost for a while without worrying about trust. I had planned on being just as cold and emotionless as I requested, but I couldn’t. Not with you. You weren’t supposed to be so amazing.”

“The sex?”

“No. Just…amazing. You…” She swallows and looks away, forcing me to nuzzle her face back toward mine.

“Tell me,” I demand, needing to hear it. Needed confirmation that I wasn’t alone in that room. That I’m

not alone in this madness.

“You cared. You were tender through the roughness. Considerate. You made me feel like the world began and ended with me. I didn’t want any of that. But I liked it.”