Chapter 2

2

DRAKE

C limbing Breaking the Wheel should have been a breeze and a quick one at that. Instead, catching up with friends and an admittedly large amount of chit-chat made the short climb turn into a much longer one, and now I'm pretty sure Elanore White will strangle me.

If I'm lucky, she'll do the strangling with those gorgeous legs of hers, and I'll die a happy man.

Right now, though, she's sitting on the hood of the rented car, her legs crossed and a look of white-hot, unadulterated fury on her face.

She's so fucking hot when she's angry, and she doesn't even know it. I weigh the idea of telling her just to see how much angrier I can make her but decide against it. After all, I did fuck up this time. Not that I'd ever admit it.

"What happened to three hours?" she demands, hopping down from the hood of the sleek white Cadillac and stomping towards me. The group of my mates behind me hoot and holler, but I turn around and give them a look that silences them immediately.

"Time got away from us," I tell her. "It just happens sometimes. You should know this by now. You've been with me for, what, four months now?"

Ellie's eyes pop open even wider, her hands closing into fists. "I've worked with you for a year!"

I know that, of course, but I can't help but push her buttons. "Whatever. Let's get to the hotel."

"Drake, I've been waiting out here for two hours. They wouldn't let me check in without you, so I spent almost three hours there working in the cafe. Which, and I know this is difficult math for you, equals five entire hours I've been waiting for you! Three was pushing it, but five?!"

Walking towards her, I snatch the keys out of her hand and climb into the driver's seat. Adjusted to Ellie, the seat is claustrophobic incarnate. "Christ, Ellie, it's going to take me so long to adjust this seat we'll be here another five."

She's in the car before I finish talking and somehow manages to reach the controls on the seat, setting it perfectly for me.

"How did you?"

"I added a seat profile for you. I've had a lot of time to kill, Drake."

I start the engine and pull out of the parking lot, not responding. It's about forty minutes back to the hotel in Salt Lake City, and as fun as it is, I know I shouldn't wind her up if I'm going to be stuck in a car with her. I'm already fighting with enough feelings with her this close.

God, she is beautiful. Everything about her, from her cute little nose to her expressive sapphire eyes and lips that were made for kissing. Right now, her honey-blond curls are in a braid. It's a rarity for her to wear it down, but I've seen it in all its glory twice, and the memories are burned into my brain.

We get on the freeway and begin the drive, and soon enough, I can't take her silent anger anymore. "You don't have to be so dramatic," I say. "You didn't have plans until tomorrow, did you?"

Her eyes are still like fire when she glances at me. "I had a very important work call with a distributor. It's been on your calendar for weeks, Drake." I open my mouth to respond, but she holds up a hand to stop me. "Don't worry, I handled it. I just..." Ellie sighs heavily. "I just wish you'd let us check into the hotel before climbing so I wasn't stuck waiting on you."

"Well, that's why you're my assistant," I tell her, chuckling. "Without you, who would I have to pick up the slack?"

"Is that why you hired me?" Ellie asks, her voice a little less irritated. "Because I'd be so eager to clean up your messes?"

"Exactly," I confirm, a smile playing at the corner of my lips.

"I'm fired, then."

"Fired? Ellie, don't be silly. You're the best assistant I've ever had."

"Then it's too bad you've made a habit of scaring them all off."

"Well," I say, turning up the radio, "you're the first one that's lasted, and I'm not letting you go. So, tough luck."

She doesn't respond, and we're silent the rest of the drive. I can feel her annoyance and something else … something more. She's not just angry. I want to ask her about it, but I'm sure she'd snap at me. I need to offer an olive branch, but Ellie is complicated. "Look, Ellie. I'll buy you whichever bottle of stupid, expensive wine you want if you'll let me off the hook. I'm going to need you on my side this weekend, as you know."

It works. She turns to me, a little smile tugging on those sweet, tempting lips. "It better be a big bottle," she says.

"Whatever you want," I say, returning the grin.

When we get to the hotel, the staff is expecting us. We're painfully late, but I'm a big enough name that it shouldn't be a big deal. Ellie is walking ahead, checking her phone. I'm staring at her ass, unable to help myself. She finds what she's looking for on the device and shows it to the desk worker, who happily types on her keyboard for approximately three seconds before turning a strange shade of gray.

Ellie, always attentive, notices right away. "What's wrong with the reservations?"

"I, um…" Her eyes flicker to me, but Ellie isn't having it.

"I'm speaking to you, not Mr. Evans. What's wrong with the reservations?"

"Well, um, as you know, we are very busy with the convention going on, and all of the rooms are booked..."

"But we have reservations."

"So. Ah. You and Mr. Evans have a reservation. Singular."

"I'm sorry, what do you mean singular?"

"There is one room, miss. The honeymoon suite." She presses a button on her computer, and a little ding signals a printed piece of paper. She passes it over the counter, a sheepish look on her face.

Ellie grabs the sheet, staring at the little picture of a white-covered king-sized bed.

"It's the only room left, and we will comp the room entirely, of course," the woman explains, looking over Ellie's shoulder.

"With one bed," Ellie says. "And I can't get a room for the night?"

She shakes her head, looking remorseful.

"What about the airport hotels?"

"All booked, unfortunately."

Ellie has gone white.

"Is that a problem, Ms. White?"

"No," she says, but the word sounds strangled.

I walk over, my eyes glued to the photo on the piece of paper, but Ellie is not done letting her displeasure be known."This is unacceptable. Mr. Evans is one of the keynote speakers, how can a mistake like this happen?"

"It's fine," I cut in, smiling at the distraught desk clerk. "I'm sure we'll manage."

"I am so, so sorry. Of course, we'll be reimbursing you the cost of the entire weekend," the clerk continues, looking as if she's about to start crying.

"It's fine," I reassure her.

She still looks terrified, but Ellie finally nods, and I grab the keycard. "You don't have to bring any bags up; the bellhop will be happy to take them. And if there's anything you need, please let us know, and we will be happy to?—"

"Yes, thank you. That will be all," Ellie interrupts. She turns on her heel, and I'm forced to follow her, staring at her ass again, of course.

The elevator ride is silent. Ellie is leaning against the wall, trying her best not to look at me. She's nervous.

"It's not a big deal. Really, Ellie."

"We work together. It's ... unethical," she says, turning her gaze towards me.

I can't help but laugh. "Are you suggesting what I think you are?"

Ellie is red-faced. "No!" she yells. "I'm not. I don't want that. I just … it's weird! We're both adults, and we work together, and this is just … so ..."

"Strange," I supply. Exciting, I think, but I keep that thought to myself.

"Embarrassing," she counters. "But I guess it will be fine. We're going to be so busy I'm sure there will be minimal time in the room itself."

Her words are becoming a nervous babble, and I can't help but laugh. My sweet, brave Ellie being so shaken by sharing a room is almost hilarious.

"Don't worry," I say. "I'm a gentleman."

Her blush deepens, and she doesn't respond.

"Your silence is telling."

"Well, I didn't think you'd be happy if I called you a liar."

Ah, there she is. My witty, sarcastic spitfire of a girl. It's taking everything in me not to celebrate here and now, right in her face, the fact that we're sharing a room. I've hungered for this woman, in her sinfully tight pencil skirts and silky blouses that give me tantalizing peeks at her lacy lingerie, since the moment I laid eyes on her. That want morphed into a genuine, soul-shaking need when, during that first interview, she called me an asshole and stormed out. After dozens of interviews of would-be assistants bowing and scraping and nearly begging to kiss my ass, her fire was like a breath of fresh air.

But my Ellie is all professional, at least most of the time. It's all 'sir' this and 'Mr.Evans' that. I so rarely get to hear her say my name, and only usually when I've royally pissed her off, but damn, when I hear it roll off her tongue, I go hard as steel.

This must be karma for being such a stubborn prick my entire life—wanting the one woman on earth that I really should leave well enough alone.

The elevator dings at the top floor of the hotel, and it's time for us to face the music. A funeral dirge in Ellie's mind surely, but a romantic, sensual song in mine.

The convention is being held at the Salt Palace Convention Center, and the attached Regency Salt Hotel is a beauty even by my high standards. Funny that I'm fine sleeping in a tent on the side of a mountain at any time, but I have no patience for cheap lodgings when I'm playing the part of owner and CEO of Dragon Ascent. I might as well enjoy the perks of all my hard work.

The building is tall, all mirrored glass from the outside and luxury inside. It's packed with people in town from all over the world for the conference, which will be held in the other part of the building. It's a new building, and it shows.

The honeymoon suite we've been accidentally booked into is a different story. It's clearly been built and decorated for amorous couples, and Ellie is blushing as I watch her take in the decor and the gigantic bed that dominates the main room. There's a roomy balcony with a hot tub, a separate sitting room, an oversized bathroom, and a fully stocked kitchen.

"It's beautiful," she sighs, wandering towards the windows.

I can't help but agree. It's her.

The first order of business is to take our things to the bedroom. And I'm going to enjoy every minute of watching her try not to react. It's done tastefully, with dark wood and cream colors, and the bed is large enough for a small orgy.

"I'll take the couch," I offer, smirking at her.

"No way! I'll sleep on the couch," she insists. "You're too tall!"

I shrug. "Too bad. You want first dibs on the shower?"

"Um, sure," she says, clearly flustered.

"Great. I'll be in after you." I set my backpack on the ground and walk towards her, crowding her into the room.

"But–"

I take her suitcase from her, setting it on the bed. "Ellie, it's fine. I'm used to sleeping on all kinds of surfaces."

"But it's not right," she argues, crossing her arms. "I should be the one to sleep on the couch."

I step closer to her, towering over her small frame. She swallows hard, her cheeks pink as she stares up at me, eyes wide. She smells like peaches, and I want to press my face against her neck and breathe her in.

"I won't take no for an answer." My voice is lower than I expected it to be, and she visibly shivers.

I turn away before I do something stupid, like pull her into my arms. I grab my duffel bag and shove it on the bed beside her suitcase, unzipping it quickly. "Go ahead and shower, El. I'll just get my stuff ready."

"Um, okay." She moves quickly, grabbing her toiletry bag and towel before escaping into the bathroom.

The second the door closes, I slump onto the bed. What am I doing? Why did I volunteer for this torture? It was bad enough before, being around her and trying not to make an ass of myself. But now we're in a room together, and I know I'm going to hear the shower running and think about her naked in there.

I run a hand over my face, groaning quietly. I need to get a grip. I can't risk our working relationship by being inappropriate. She deserves better than that.

I take out my phone and try to distract myself with work, but I can't focus. With nothing else to do, I close my eyes and lie back on the comforter, trying to meditate and block out the sound of her showering and ignoring the voice in my head screaming at me to stroke my cock and at least take the edge off this need. With my luck, she'll come out as soon as I start, and I'll be even more frustrated than before.

Ellie, Ellie, Ellie. What the hell am I going to do with you?