7. Drake

After CiCi storms off, Shado reappears around the back of the booth and sits down.

“Dude, how long have you been out of the dating game?”

Whipping my head in his direction, I can all but feel the daggers shooting out of my eyes.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“If you want her, you’re going to have to go about it a different way. Pissy and aloof isn’t your strong suit.”

“I don’t want her.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” He shrugs, taking a swig of his fresh whiskey.

“I can’t date in my line of work. I would never subject her to the dangers of my job.”

As he is swirling his glass on the table in a circle, he scoffs, “She may not be completely safe with you, but that’s not your problem. You’re hiding something from her, and it’s not your secret identity.”

“Do you ever shut up?” I snap as I stand up, my eyes scanning the room.

“Not when I’m right.” He chuckles as he takes a swig from his drink.

“Do you want another bullet to match your other shoulder?”

“You wouldn’t shoot me. You need me.” He continues to laugh, feeling satisfied at my expense.

Swiftly grabbing my Glock from its holster, I aim it directly between his eyes.

“You want to try again? That fucking mouth will get you killed with me.”

He holds his hands up nervously, and mumbles, “Chill out, man.”

I begin to lower the gun when I hear him mutter, “Fuck, you need to get laid.”

Pointing the gun at his pants, “Do you want to continue to use this? You’re about two seconds away from having a crater where your dick is.”

Across the bar, I can see CiCi mingling with her co-workers. It’s early enough in the evening that the clientele is still on their best behavior. Perusing the crowd, I notice a few Las Serpientes, some goons from the Silvestri family, and a familiar face I haven’t seen in thirteen years.

Dimitri Parshikov.

Snapping my fingers, I grab Shado’s attention. “Follow me.”

I swiftly stride over to Miranda and CiCi. “You need to get out of here now.”

She whirls around to face me. “Do you not get it? I need this job!”

“CiCi, you are in danger if you work here.”

“You said I was in danger near you. So, why don’t you walk away?”

Grabbing her arm, I drag her down the dimly lit hallway near the restrooms.

“This is the exact opposite of walking away, Drake.” She giggles as I pull her in front of me.

She’s such a brat.

This woman will be the death of me.

Then, as if a light bulb goes off in her head, her eyes begin to twinkle.

“If you don’t want me working here, why don’t I come work for you? I’m good with computers. I can find out intel for you. It’s perfect!”

“Perfect? Is this some game to you?” I growl. Shaking my head, my voice is tense with frustration. “No. I don’t need you. I work alone.”

Looking past me, she scoffs and motions in the direction of my newly acquired mouthy fuck of a partner.

“Are we just going to ignore your shadow that’s standing over there, or is he the ghost of one of your many victims?”

Her words slice through me like a sword to the gut.

Looking away from her, I try to hide my expression as her voice softens.

“With you being the big, bad billionaire, you could afford my salary and it’ll get me away from here.”

She looks at the hold I have on her arm and smirks at me mischievously. “Since you seem so hell bent on me not being near here, and apparently you’re not that concerned about us being apart.”

She lightly touches my hand, and whispers, “It wouldn’t kill you to have help out there.”

How is she this brave? She should be terrified of me.

“But it might kill you, and I won’t have your blood on my hands.”

“Damn it, Drake! I can make my own choices. You must think I’m some dumb broad, huh?”

Growing frustrated, I pin her against the wall next to the bathroom door, wrapping my hand around her throat and squeezing just tight enough to grab her attention. My body towers over her small frame as I look down at her.

“No, I know exactly who you are, Cecilia Bianchi. Twenty-eight years old. Your favorite color is purple. You had a cat named Diego. It’s buried in the backyard of your old family home. You left for Boston when you turned eighteen. You have a degree in computer engineering and you have a passion for hacking computer systems.” I pause for a second. “And you lost your parents the same night I lost my father. So, tell me, CiCi, why do you truly work here?”

Her breath hitches in her throat for a beat before she regains her composure, “You don’t look like you’re that smart of a guy to pull that kind of information on me.” Crossing her arms, she tilts her head up at me, “Okay Master of all Crime Lords. Which one of your cronies ran a background check on me?”

Fuck, she’s relentless. I’ll give her that.

A low chuckle rumbles in my throat.

“You don’t give me enough credit. I don’t have cronies. I ran the background check on you. I’ve been learning everything I can about you because ever since the night I saved you, I’ve been obsessed with you. You’ve haunted my dreams. You’re in my thoughts when I’m awake, and I need to know more about you as much as I know you shouldn’t be near me.”

What she doesn’t need to know is that she’s haunted me for thirteen years. That I’ve longed to look into her eyes and tell her how sorry I was that I couldn’t stop my father.

How long can I keep up this lie?

“What brought you back to Edinburgh, CiCi?” I lean in, whispering in her ear. Revealing another secret I know about her and her return, what I don’t expect is the answer.

“Y-you,” she mutters, “The Dragon.”

Not Drake. Not the man who couldn’t save his city. The Dragon. The anti-hero. She wants answers, maybe even revenge. I think back to seeing Dimitri’s face. I’d serve his head up on a silver fucking platter if it would heal her pain, but he wasn’t the one responsible that night.

She looks up at me, her eyes filled with hope and sadness.

“Drake?”

My body takes over without my brain being able to stop it. I crash my lips into hers, cupping my hands around her face. A small moan escapes her lips when I press my hard body against hers. I gently slide one hand down her neck, stopping in the middle of her sternum. I can feel her heart pounding in her chest. Her hands find the base of my neck and she sinks her hands into my hair, entwining her fingers until they’re tangled together.

Grunting with pleasure, I can feel my cock harden against the prison of my jeans. My hands travel down her body, squeezing her hips. Then I slide my hands down to her ass and pick her up, wrapping her legs around my waist. Rolling my hips into hers, she tugs on my hair slightly harder, and I can feel the warmth of her delicate tongue sliding across mine as they dance together.

My mind is screaming at me to stop, and it finally breaks my thoughts long enough to force me to pull away from the kiss, breaking our intense connection.

She looks up at me, her breasts heaving in her Raven’s crop top as she gasps for air.

“Dammit CiCi. You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.”

“I’m not leaving here, Reign,” she grits out through a clenched jaw.

Setting her down, I lower my forehead against hers. “You should run from me. You’re the delicate princess, and I’m the fire-breathing dragon that will engulf your castle in flames.”

I should never have let myself taste her.

I am going to crave her forever.

Running her hands down my neck to my chest, she whispers, “If this is your attempt at scaring me away, you’re failing miserably, Mr. Dragon. I dance among the flames.”