Chapter Six
Alana
If someone had told her she would be moving in with Drew last week, she would have laughed.
And laughed and laughed and laughed. But there was nothing funny about this.
Nothing funny about seeing the most important parts of her life in a few boxes and bags.
Her intercom buzzed. Drew. He was here. She carried the three bags she could, but there were still five more and a few boxes.
She headed down the single flight of stairs and stopped in her tracks.
Drew was talking with Ian, who was nodding, his head down.
She took a few steps closer. The man looked to be shaking.
Drew’s mouth was moving so quickly she couldn’t even begin to try and work out what he was saying specifically.
Although it didn’t take a genius to figure it out.
Her heels clicked against the floor, and the two men lifted their gazes at the sound.
Ian looked to Drew like he held his life in his hand.
“Well, go on,” Drew drawled. “Apologize.”
She hadn’t heard this tone of voice. Lazy, with a promise of violence, like the lighting of a flame, it could ignite or it could be put out, depending on the outcome. Well, nothing was igniting today.
“I’m sorry, Alana. I really truly am.”
She nodded her head. “It’s fine, Ian.” She turned to Drew before he could open his mouth again. “I still have things upstairs. Would you mind?”
He slunk past her, on his way to get her things.
She packed what she’d carried into the car, refusing Ian’s help.
For some reason, she couldn’t stand the idea of him touching her things anymore, like he’d been sullied by what he’d done, and she didn’t want it spreading, contaminating her.
The first drop of rain fell, and she looked at the sky.
The heavens were about to break, and all she wanted was to be tucked up in her own bed, in an oversized shirt, her only care being her clients and ensuring they all got what they needed.
Drew came back, carrying everything. His muscles rippled in his back and arms, the rain falling on him, glinting on him. She forced herself to look away. Before she knew it, they were on their way.
“So, how come you’re driving?” she asked. She’d never seen him without his driver.
“Can’t risk it. No one knows the location of my safehouse.” His eyes flitted to her. “Except you now.”
“Well, I’m honored.” She sighed, sinking down further in her seat, her body sticking to the leather.
He chuckled, deep and throaty. “There’s everything you need. Let me guess, bath, tea, bed?”
Her eyes flew to him.
“Just to be clear, that’s not an invite, or I mean ... unless you want company for all those things.” The corners of his mouth lifted.
She couldn’t help it. A laugh bubbled out of her.
“Yes to all, minus the company. But first I want to make those calls.”
He nodded, fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter.
They rode in silence the rest of the way, until he finally stopped at a random house.
“This is it?”
He smirked. “What were you expecting? Dungeons and darkness? It’s just a house, with a few safety features and cameras. But it can’t be traced back to me.”
She got out of the car, rain smattering against her eyes.
The house was on the small side, painted white, with stairs leading to the shining red front door.
It reminded her of an apple. They struggled up the steps, Drew leading the way.
He typed a keycode into the door, and then they were inside.
It was charming, cozy really, not the type of house you’d think of when you heard the word billionaire.
This was more like a family home, with a sitting room, kitchen with a dining area, and downstairs bathroom.
“I’ll show you to your room,” he said, carrying her belongings.
Upstairs was a larger bathroom with the promised tub, and three bedrooms. Hers was simple, painted white, with a double bed and chest of drawers.
“It’s not much, but it’s safe.”
He put her belongings down with such care, running his fingers through his rain-drenched hair. She had the sudden urge to wrap her arms around him, to reassure him.
“It’s all I need,” she said. “I’ll get cleaned up and meet you downstairs.”
He nodded, leaving her to it. She pulled on some dry, comfy clothes, readying herself for what was to come, for the conversation she was about to have.
She spoke with all sorts of people on a daily basis, no two days were the same.
But calling parents to tell them their son they thought was dead, the son they buried, is actually alive and they are in danger .
.. yeah, not something she’d done before.
But she could do this. She was Alana Montague.
She came from nothing and worked her way up to this.
She could do this. At that thought, she made her way downstairs, spreading a few papers out on the kitchen table.
Drew was nowhere in sight. She pulled up a chair, took a deep breath and dialed their number before she could change her mind.
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and her traitorous heart almost skipped a beat in joy when no one answered. Until they did. On the last ring. Her eyes flew open.
“Hello?”
“Hello, am I speaking to Mr. Davis?”
“Yes, you are. Who’s calling?”
“My name is Alana Montague, and I’m afraid what I’m about to tell you is going to come as a shock. Are you sitting down?”
There was silence on the other end of the line, until she finally heard some mumbling.
“I’ve got my wife with me. What is it?”
The whole sorry story came spilling out of her mouth. How she was a friend of their son who had to fake his own death for their safety and his own, but his past had caught up to him and now they were in danger, how she had organized everything for them, new identities, new lives.
She stopped speaking, pausing for breath. When she heard nothing, she worried that the call had disconnected.
“He’s okay? He’s safe?”
“He is,” she answered his mom. Her heart cracked a little.
“We’ve known. We’ve always known in our hearts.”
Then his dad was back on the line. “Tell us what we need to do.”
So, she did. She admired their attitudes, their calmness. How they were holding it all together she didn’t know, but she was grateful they were.
“Is he with you? Can we speak to him?”
A creak of a floorboard behind her. She whipped around to find Drew standing there, a shard of moonlight casting across his broken face. He shook his head, swallowing deeply.
“I’m so sorry, he’s not. But I’m sure he’ll be in touch when he can be.”
The lies tasted bitter on her tongue, like she had swallowed ash.
“Well, thank you, Alana. He’s lucky to have you.”
And I him, she added silently, before they said their goodbyes and hung up the phone. She placed it on the table, pushing it away from her like that would push away all of the stress, the lie she had just told.
“They are good people. I can’t lie to them again, Drew.” She turned to face him. “I grew up in foster homes my whole life. My parents didn’t want me, they threw me away at the first chance they got. You don’t know how lucky you are.”
He cocked his head to the side, as if absorbing the information. She didn’t want his pity though. She stood. It was time for that bath.
But he caught her, wrapping his hand around her wrist.
“You won’t have to. Lie to them again, I mean. I’m just not ready yet. But thank you. And how anyone could reject you is beyond me.” His fingers tightened around her wrist, and she felt his warmth sink into her cold bones.
“How are you always so warm?” was all she could think to say.
He chuckled. “How are you always so cold?” His eyes met hers.
“We’re made for each other, see.” He tucked a strand of her rain-damp hair behind her ear.
“Allow me to warm you up.” He lowered his head closer to her face and her breath caught in her throat.
It was like only he could release it. She’d never seen this look in his eyes before, not even at the wedding before he kissed her.
This was different. This was longing. And she reflected it right back.
He moved slowly, so slowly, giving her the chance to stop him, to move out of the way.
She wanted the opposite. The absolute opposite.
They were sharing breath, and she reached out and tugged him forward by his shirt collar, so that his lips spilled over hers.
The warmth, the buzz in her veins, was instant, like a match.
This was nothing like their first kiss. This was soft.
This was sober. This was the kind of kiss that lingered in your mind for years to come, that you daydreamed about.
He pulled her closer, one hand cupping the side of her face.
He broke the kiss, tipping her head up to meet his eyes. She could go nowhere even if she wanted to. And she didn’t. She was drowning in him.
“I’ve dreamed of you, of this.” His lips trailed her cheeks, her neck. “But nothing compares to the real thing.” His lips covered her again and she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. She didn’t want this to end. It couldn’t, she wouldn’t let it.