Five
T he world seems to come to a halt as Draven sits next to me instead of Verna. He’s too close, I can smell him. The scar just under his eye looks deeper in the candlelight, bringing out the features that should make him uglier, not more beautiful.
And he is beautiful.
Every angle of his face, the mischief in his eyes. The way he sounded when he fell apart for me.
Beautiful.
Dangerous.
And the furthest thing from mine.
“The next time you’re late, I’ll send you to Bayside to collect,” Ephraim growls, and while I’m not exactly sure what he means, I can guess.
Bayside is full of Saint City’s most hopeless causes. The degenerates, the recluses, the criminals, gangbangers and vagabonds. The street rats. My guess is the few legitimate shops that do exist down there pay him for protection. But why would Draven care?
“I’m sure Reaver misses you.”
Oh, that’s why. Reaver is a psychopath unlike any I’ve ever met. Worse than Draven, worse than Ephraim himself. He’s a sadist in and out of the bedroom, bad enough that he’s been banned from St. Andrew’s and no amount of his dirty money could ever buy one of us. The last girl he bought before he was cut off ended up being mailed to the mayor.
In pieces.
“I’m sure he does. Everyone misses me when I’m not around, huh, Verna?” He slouches slightly in his chair so his leg brushes mine, not giving her the chance to respond. “Anyways, what did I miss?”
My hand clenches tighter around the metal of my fork as I meet Alex’s eyes. I don’t know what mine are saying, but his are curious, almost suspicious. “Not much,” he says without breaking my gaze. “You’ve already met Miss Harbough, haven’t you?”
He turns his body toward me slightly, deep blue eyes scanning me up and down for far too long to be comfortable, and then he smiles. “We’ve been acquainted, yes. Good evening, Sully. You’re in my seat.”
My lips purse. “Change is good, isn’t it? I wanted to sit close to Alex.”
“Naturally,” he quips, the hint of sarcasm not missed by anyone at the table. “Have you told him about the cookies?”
“No, because I was told I wouldn’t be allowed to bake here. Leo was very clear about that,” I say quietly, but I could’ve mouthed it and everyone still would’ve known.
“Leo isn’t the boss here.”
“Enough about cookies,” Ephraim hisses toward Draven, his throat clearing as he adjusts his tie. “I’m sure you can see why Draven here is only around at night. Good riddance too, could you imagine him being the face of the Creed name?”
If this is the Provost’s attempt at a joke, I can see why Draven’s sense of humor sucks. All he’s managed to do is make everyone uncomfortable except for Verna. She seems to enjoy watching him put down his bastard son.
“As of right now, your face is the only one the public sees, so you’d have to step aside for that to change in any capacity. We all know that isn’t happening, so this conversation is completely pointless. I’m only seen at night because that’s when I want to be seen. All day people lie and flex under the sun, but the truth will always be found in the dark.”
He’s not wrong. I’ve seen it firsthand. Every day, with everything I’ve done.
He’s a liar too, even if only by omission.
Remembering Madeline’s advice, I choose to keep quiet and take a bite instead of chiming in.
I should be seen, not heard.
It’s safer this way anyway. Draven’s presence and the truth behind his identity has me feeling off-kilter, shaky. Like I’m going to open my mouth to say something normal and instead comment on the way his cum tasted or how heavy his cock felt in my hand.
Or the way it sounded when he snapped my former fiancés neck.
Alex eats quietly next to me, giving me something to emulate. He may be cold and distant, but it’s graceful here. Demure. Easy for me to copy, right up until Draven sets his fork aside and takes a sip of my spiked tea.
The knowing look he gives me after has my gaze falling to my plate, but based on the way the conversation around us continues, I don’t think anyone noticed. I’m glad for it when Draven leans in to whisper into my ear, “How does it feel to know I had you first?”
The brush of his fingers against my thigh sends lightning through my system that I barely conceal.
Holy fuck.
My cheeks heat further as Verna says coldly, “Something you’d like to share?”
Draven looks behind him like she might be talking to someone else, then tosses her an incredulous expression. “Did you just acknowledge me? Holy shit, are pigs flying outside?”
“Enough,” Ephraim growls as Verna’s lips grow thinner and thinner, until they’re nothing but a drawn-on, pencil thin line of disappointment. “This is Miss Harbough’s first dinner with us. Her introduction. Try to have at least a little decorum.”
“My apologies, future Mrs. Creed. You may punish me however you see fit.”
“Draven,” Alexander chides. “You will be respectful to my fiancé.”
If he was talking to anyone else, I know they’d take his tone as a threat. Draven simply laughs. “Lighten up. This is her first family dinner of many. I thought I should try and make her smile, but fine. Let’s talk about St. Andrew’s instead, yeah? Was that your choice or daddy’s decision?”
“Mine,” I say firmly. It was the last decision I was allowed to make for myself. It seems counterintuitive now, but at the time, I was following my gut.
And my pussy, but that isn’t the point.
“I see.”
His bottom lip disappears between his teeth before he turns away entirely, but with how he’s staring down at his plate I can tell he’s still thinking about my response.
Luckily for everyone here, Ephraim cuts into the silence. “How about some dessert?”
Verna still looks as if she’s sucking on something sour, but nods in agreement just before Madeline comes up behind me to set a hand on my shoulder. “What flavor for you, dear? We have chocolate, lemon or pineapple.”
The side of Draven’s lips curve at the mention of the fruit, so I take the opportunity to be a little petty. “Lemon, please. Pineapple doesn’t do it for me.”
“I’ll ensure Leo makes a note of that.”
She bows slightly and disappears through the kitchen doors as Verna tosses me a fake smile. “Match made in heaven. Lemon is Alexander’s favorite.”
It makes me laugh, I can’t help it. I’d take chocolate over both, but this’ll do. “That’s a good sign. What else do you like, Alex?”
“I uh...” He clears his throat like he doesn’t know how to answer that, and when he finds the words and begins speaking, Draven’s fingers return to my thigh. “I like watching baseball, playing golf, spending time with family...”
He goes on a little longer, though I can’t seem to focus on anything he’s saying. Draven’s slowly lifting my dress in search of more skin, more ways to make my heart stop. As his fingers brush my panty line, I think he succeeds.
Alex seems lost in thought when I finally manage to tune back in.
“... but I think my favorite thing in the world has to be the smell of fresh soil.” A faint blush dusts his cheeks as he reaches for a glass of water. “How about you?”
Fresh fucking soil?
I’d think it was a cleverly veiled threat about burying me as if he knew what his brother was doing, but Alex isn’t looking at me at all.
Why isn’t he looking at me?
I reach under to move Draven’s hand and lean a little closer toward Alex. “Honestly, I’m not sure what I like. I know that’s a boring answer, but I buried my nose in books when I was in high school and went immediately into St. Andrew’s. I’m not sure it would be appropriate for me to tell you the things I know I like here at the dinner table.”
His gaze finally flicks to mine, the shock in his eyes evident, but he’s saved by the staff bustling in with our cakes.
Mr. and Mrs. Creed both have chocolate, Alexander and I lemon, and Draven is the only one to have chosen pineapple.
I watch him pluck a piece of fruit off the top and pop it into his mouth, licking those sinful fingers clean before he brings us right back to the conversation we all thought we’d escaped. “I think we’re all adults here. Let’s hear those things you like, little keeper.”
“Draven,” Ephraim hisses. “I think that’s enough of you tonight. You’re excused.”
“I’m not done eating.”
He picks up his fork like he doesn’t have a care in the world, but Ephraim slams his fist on the table so hard, his drink spills. “Get. Out.”
Draven’s jaw is so tense in their stare down I think he’s about to challenge his father right here, but instead he catches me by surprise when he relents. “Welcome to the family, Miss Harbough.”
Shoving his plate away, Draven takes his leave without another look back.
The door shuts so lightly it’s jarring. I was expecting it to slam, but the breeze seemingly omnipresent in the house catches it just right. It shuts as quietly as a mouse.
“I’m sorry about that,” Alex says quietly. “You’ll get used to him.”
I doubt that. You don’t get used to men like Draven, the loose cannons with big dreams and enough audacity they might actually achieve them.
Those men don’t allow you to get comfortable. Their patterns change too much, their desires shift like the seasons.
And Draven Creed, well... he doesn’t seem to be an exception.