22. Helen
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Drake began referring to my upstairs office as the War Room in the days following our return from the cottage.
The documents from my suitcase joined the snippets and scraps pinned on the walls and corkboard, copies spilled over the desk, and chaos reigned supreme.
With another attack on my own fucking front lawn, a new fervor to solve the riddle seized hold of me.
During the day, he faithfully followed me into the office where I resumed my daily duties for my family business.
In the afternoons, I pored over connections and the new information streaming in from sources around the city.
Identifying the recent attackers gave us a longer list of names, backgrounds, crimes, a larger web of connections we researched and dug through for hours.
It was astoundingly easy to carry over the routine from our all-too-brief honeymoon into the days that followed.
Drake wedged himself into my life as if he’d been the missing piece of it all along.
Finding him working on his own reports in my office, cooking meals in my kitchen, or passed out from exhaustion in my bed wasn’t the surprise it might have been a month ago.
It was… pleasant. Welcomed, even.
Those days reminded me of our school years.
Of our past rivalry, heated debates in class, unwanted sexual tension, the teasing, gradually falling in love against all odds.
Having Drake beside me as I worked gave me someone to compete against, and I worked harder, faster, longer hours as my competitive nature took over.
While Drake Graham was The Dragon of New York at night, he was also wonderfully competent and brilliant in his own right.
Having his eyes on my work bolstered my confidence and drive to leave no stone unturned.
Except in the moments where he made me utterly stupid with want. It was difficult spending so many hours in enclosed spaces with him without finding a spare moment to touch, to taste, to caress. My office desk had seen more action in the past week than I had in the past two years.
My eyes flicked across my desk, finding Drake sitting in the chair I now associated as his.
He had a dopey grin across his face, staring at the midday sky behind me with my lipstick smeared all over his lips and face.
I encouraged him to go clean his face, but he appeared so blissed out and flushed I couldn’t find it in me to berate him for it.
Drake seemed so happy and carefree in a way he never had before.
All the seriousness and darkness that held him back as a teenager evaporated into the man he’d become.
Perhaps it was the maturity that came with age, but he’d lowered his defenses and handed me the window to his desires.
The open vulnerability made me weak for my husband in a wholly expected way.
And seeing that goofy grin on his face and his red-smeared lips—my heart stuttered.
He smirked, as if sensing my eyes on him.
I turned my eyes back to the recently delivered stacks of papers on my desk.
An attack from the anonymous masked group on one of the Chun family operations a few nights before had brought additional sources to the surface with bits and pieces of intel.
I’d spent most of the day ignoring my family business to find a connecting thread.
Whoever controlled the masked men had sent his goons after a Chun money laundering facility.
They attempted to steal the plates from the printing press, leading me to assume that whoever was responsible needed further funds for their operations.
Just last night an ink specialist that worked for the Rossi family had been kidnapped…
Only someone close to the Rossi family would know the name and location of the ink specialist. Julian might have possibly had that information since he remained close with his uncle Dante Rossi, despite his close-knit friendship with Drake and his work with the Graham family.
That line of thought triggered a recollection of the first attacks.
Drake was ambushed at his penthouse that only a handful of people would have known the location of. Julian made that list.
I bit my bottom lip, worrying the tender flesh with my teeth as I turned over that train of thought. Though I didn’t want to believe it, the premise held merit. Guilty for the idea, I peered at Drake across my desk with the same lazy smile on his face and not a single thought behind his eyes.
God, he was stupidly attractive, and I wanted to strangle him for it.
And he wouldn’t be pleased to know I was wondering if one of his closest friends was a traitor.
Speculating such a betrayal baffled me. I didn’t want to presume someone close to Drake had the ability to hurt him or those he cared for. Yet, I had to wonder at who else would have known the night we returned to my house with these specific connections.
I danced with Julian at our wedding. The handsome Italian was all smiles and teasing jokes while he swept me through a string of dances.
His flirtation meant to annoy Drake, I knew, and it had amused me.
Nothing in his mannerisms or words that night gave any impression he held ill intent toward—well, anyone, really.
He’d been Drake’s best man, for fuck’s sake.
Could it all have been a mask similar to the one Drake wore when he went on missions?
The motivation behind such a betrayal stumped me.
On the outside, looking in, Drake and Julian had a brotherly bond.
They’d been friends since they were in diapers.
An unshakable duo until Douglas joined them and they became a trio.
I couldn’t work out why Julian might have been swayed even with all the notes I’d spent weeks devouring.
But the money might hold a trail, especially with the attack the past week.
Without drawing attention to myself and disturbing Drake’s obvious daydreaming, I angled toward my laptop and sent a quick email to have Julian’s banking investigated.
I didn’t want to believe it, and seeing his spending reports might put me at ease.
But if he had a drastic dip in his funds?—
“What’s on your mind?” Drake’s concerned voice snapped me to attention.
I stiffened in my seat, biting down a guilty pout as his discerning gaze trapped me. Swallowing hard, I forced a smile to my lips. His eyes only narrowed further, as if he’d already caught me in a lie.
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you. You look worried.”
“Well, the top crime families keep getting attacked. We’re under threat and I haven’t figured it out yet.” Discouraged by a failure to have the case solved already, I sank lower in my seat. I wanted to rage and shout and shake with my furious displeasure, but it weighed so heavily on my shoulders.
Drake leant forward, bracing his elbows on the desk.
“Monty, you’re fucking brilliant. Don’t believe otherwise for a second.
You’re not alone in trying to figure this out.
This problem might have brought us together again, and you might feel solely responsible for solving it, but you aren’t.
All the top families are looking into this.
That’s how you keep getting clues and new sources.
And you have me working alongside you.” His hand caught my fidgeting fingers on the desk, stilling them.
“I’m here with you. I support you. We’ll figure this out together. ”
“Yes, I know. It just feels like so much. It’s eating away at me.
” Not something I would have admitted before, but words just spilled out of me where he was concerned.
He was a balm on my worries and a battering ram on the walls around my thoughts.
It took a considerable effort to keep my suspicions about his friend to myself.
I didn’t want to bring it up without proof and potentially hurt him. I cared for him far too much to do that. I cared so much. Fuck.
That wasn’t quite right.
It was love. I loved him.
At that moment, with his warm, familiar hand wrapped around mine, grounding me in the real world with an almost painful adoration in his eyes, I wanted to tell him.
I wanted to rip off the band aid and tell him how I felt, to let him crack open my ribs and burrow against my heart.
I wanted to welcome him home within me and keep him there forever.
I wanted to tell him I loved him.
His lips twitched in a brief frown when I pulled my hand from his.
I ran my hands through my tamed curls, tucking them behind my ears as I swallowed thickly over the confession, choking me.
Painful memories of an interrupted profession ten years ago slammed down between my teeth and tongue, blocking me from leaping off that cliff.
There would be no returning from the hurt a second time if I tried and failed—or was rejected again.
No. I wouldn’t—couldn’t—tell him how I felt.
Keeping that confession close to my chest would be in my better interest. If Drake felt the same way, he would tell me.
Sometimes, with the way he looked at me, touched me, I often wondered if he shared my feelings.
But unless he voiced it aloud, I’d hold my heart under lock and key.
Besides, we had larger problems to face than tender feelings left unspoken.
“I won’t let this eat away at you, Monty,” he promised, and those words almost sounded like more.
“Right.” Without looking at him, I rose and gathered the paperwork on my desk.
“I think I’ll head home early and cross-reference some of the files I have at home.
” With the burgeoning theory burning a hole in the back of my head, I wanted to dig into the history between the families in search of potential motivation.
Drake rose from his seat. “I’ll come with you.”