18. Helen #2
“Oui, et tu es à moitié homme des cavernes.” He returned the smile on my lips. Until I took the first bite and choked down a moan. “Merde! This is so good!” I devoured half the bowl, not noticing how intensely he watched me. “No, seriously, when did you learn to cook like this?”
Drake stole a hefty gulp of wine, then grimaced. “You don’t want to hear that story.”
“Oh, why? Did you have some posh little girlfriend in the city who dragged you to cooking classes or something?” I asked in a light tone, but a slithering green snake of envy curled through me at the thought.
His expression grew somber despite his fake smirk. He looked away, idly dragging his spoon through the bowl. Sensing the stress in him, I held my breath.
“You don’t actually have to answer, I was just?—”
“No,” he said. “It’s… it’s fine. Do you know why some people call me the Dragon?”
“You use fire to burn some of your targets past the point of being identifiable,” I recited the rumor I’d heard.
Drake refilled his wine, drinking half the glass before he continued with a scornful laugh.
“That’s what they like to say now, but that’s not how it started.
” Another small sip, eyes remaining on the woodgrain of the table.
“Dad sent me on a high-level mission right after I got out of Harvard. I already had a bit of a reputation by then. The Brutal Graham Heir and all that bullshit. I mean, he had me killing since I was fifteen. What did people expect?”
My fingers itched to reach across the table and cover his white-knuckled fist. I restrained myself, sitting perfectly still as he worked through the story.
“Well, I showed up in Japan ready to deal with some young yakuza upstart threatening a deal we were working on with the Chun family. Little did I know there was a rat among the Chuns who warned them I was coming. Walked right into a trap. They… they blew up the building minutes after I arrived.” He continued through my soft gasp.
“I only managed to escape because one explosive nearest the door beeped loud enough for me to hear and didn’t go off right away.
I ran out as fast as I could while half the building was already in flames.
I didn’t get away without some lasting scars, though. ”
The discoloration on his leg I’d seen that morning. Burn scars. The backs of my eyes pricked, and I bullied the unshed tears away. Drake inhaled, eyes cloudy with memories.
“Julian and Douglas were my backup for that mission, but something happened with the comms and Douglas couldn’t alert the team the moment it happened.
It was a miracle I didn’t lose my entire leg by the time Julian got to me.
” He unclenched his fist and tapped the edge of the table.
He blinked away the daze and dropped a mask over his expression.
The haughty smirk didn’t reach his eyes.
“So, in the aftermath, I had a lot of time to heal. Weeks in a private hospital with nothing to watch but cooking shows, and I found myself increasingly interested. When I went home for the rest of my recovery, I taught myself how to cook. It was the best distraction I could have gotten.”
“You got blown up?” I sounded shrill to my own ears as I said it.
The smile on his face brightened. He pinched his fingers together and laughed. “Only a little.”
“You survived a fire, a fucking explosion, and that’s why people started calling you the Dragon?” I sipped on my wine, turning over every detail of the conversation. “Putain de merde.”
“Spot on analysis, as usual. But that’s how I got into cooking. It was something to do during the recovery process, and it just stuck with me.”
“You should have told me you were cooking those lunches. I assumed you were buying them every day.” Perhaps it was the two glasses of wine or the emotional rollercoaster, but a soft giggle escaped me.
Despite the amicable mood, Drake turned his head to the side and observed me. His eyes were so dark, so rich. Meeting his stare warmed me to the point of shrinking away or melting.
“You wouldn’t have eaten them if you knew.”
The words cut through me, striking the affable air between us.
I wilted but nodded. “I suppose you’re right.
” We needed a change of subject, even if I was grateful to know the origins of his nickname and the burns.
“So, you mentioned you completed Harvard? I remember you talking about getting accepted.”
Neither of us had delved into our shared past in the recent weeks. Drake getting accepted into Harvard was one of the last conversations we had before everything fell apart. Mentioning it was risky, like steering a boat into a tidal wave and hoping you didn’t drown.
“Yes. Though most of my focus was on the Rugby Football Club. It amazed everyone that I passed my classes.” His genuine laugh prompted one of my own.
“I doubt that! You were always right behind me in grades at St. Henry’s. You never gave yourself enough credit.”
Drake’s brow quirked. “Careful, Monty. That almost sounded like a compliment.”
I sipped my wine to hide my blush.
“Shut up about it,” I groaned, “or I will kill you.”
His devilish grin made my insides swoop dangerously. “There you go, flirting with me again. Careful, or I might start to think you like me… wife.”
Oh, mon Dieu. I’m in trouble.