The Commitment (The Unrestrained #2) (30 page)

"What's going on in that mind of yours, Ms. Bennet?"

I smiled to myself. "Just admiring the view."

"Oh, you were, were you? See something you like?"

"Something I like very much."

He selected a tie and then turned to face the bed, smiling as he threaded it around his neck and began tying it. "You can have it later this afternoon, if you want. I've deprived you for the past few days. I don't want you unsatisfied."

"I've been very busy the past few days working on a project," I said.

"How's your painting going? Can I see it?"

I shook my head. "Not until it's finished, but it's a gift for you."

He smiled. "I'm glad you're painting again. I was worried that you'd be really bored with nothing to do, now that you've withdrawn from courses and took a leave from the paper."

"I'm glad to be painting again."

Then I thought about Kurt and I knew I had to tell Drake.

"There's something we have to talk about, Drake."

He smiled and bent down to kiss me. "Sure," he said. "I'm a bit rushed, but later, when I get home."

He kissed me again, smiling softly. Nothing in his behavior suggested he had anger bottled up inside of him. Nothing in our sexual experiences suggested that he had a sadistic streak. Dawn and Sunita's warnings rang hollow.

While Drake finished dressing, I ran to the bathroom to brush my teeth quickly so my breath would be fresh. I snuck back under the covers and waited for him to come and say goodbye. He finished dressing then came over to me, sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over me.

"You look so delicious Ms. Bennet," he said, his eyes twinkling like the old Drake, "I think I'm crazy to leave you here all warm and snuggly under the covers."

"You have things to do. I'm glad you're feeling so much better. Can you join us for lunch at my parent's today?"

He nodded and ran his fingers down my cheek. "Should I pick you up or will you get a ride over to you father's?"

"I think I'll walk. I've been locked inside the studio for a couple of days. I need the exercise. I'll meet you there at 12:30?"

"Sounds like a plan." He kissed me again and smiled. "Then, after lunch, I want dessert. In other words, I want
you
," he said and slipped his hand down under the covers to my breast. "I have to make up for lost time. I hope you're ready for me, because I'll be
more
than ready for you."

A thrill went through me at that and I smiled. "I'll have a hard time eating my lunch when you talk that way."

"Good. I'm feeling
very
deprived. I'm sure you feel that way as well."

I shrugged. "You were sick. But now…" I bit my lip and raised my eyebrows.

He smiled and squeezed my breast. "Now I feel almost my old self. I think I want that massage you promised."

"Your wish is my command, oh
Sultan
," I said, fluttering my eyelashes.

"I wish that you'll give me a very long and very sensuous massage when we get back from your father's. Use some nice scented oil, have some soft music in the background, light some candles…"

"Sounds heavenly."

He checked his watch and sighed. "Now I
do
have to go." He leaned down and kissed me on the mouth. "Hold that thought."

Then he was gone.

I sat in the kitchen in my robe and slippers, eating a bagel with cream cheese and drinking my coffee while I read the
New York Weekly
. Despite hating gossip, I read the society page and there, on page six, was a picture of Captain Donnelly receiving a check from me at the fundraiser. There was an article accompanying the picture, stating that my father had sent me in his place to donate money to DWB at the annual fundraising event. There was a line about me being his youngest child, and mentioned that I was a graduate student in Journalism at Columbia.

Then, farther down below after a section on my father's potential candidacy for the house seat, there was a series of pictures from the event. At the bottom, a picture of me with Kurt – one the photographer had taken when we were outside. In the image, Kurt leaned over me against the wall in the darkness. It looked very suggestive, my face in shadow but the impression was one of two people who were very intimate. The caption read
Kate McDermott and Escort Share A Private Moment outside ZONE.

My heart sunk and I felt the blood rush from my face.

If Drake saw it, he'd get the wrong impression. That photograph was chosen because it
did
look suggestive and no doubt, the editors thought that it would titillate the readers to know something personal about my father and me. Now, I regretted not telling Drake about meeting Kurt. Now, I'd not only have to recount the events of that evening, but I'd also have to explain why I didn't say anything. I had no idea that anyone would be interested in a photograph of me. I was nobody.

I wanted to throw the paper in the recycling bin by the front door, but knew that would be proof of a guilty conscience. I had to fold the paper up and leave it by the couch where the papers usually were placed. I had to hope that Drake would be really distracted by the prospect of he and I having sex and wouldn't have time to read the paper and so it would become yesterday's news and he'd miss reading the edition entirely. I had to hope no one showed it to him, or told him about it.

I'd have to tell him about it but oh, I regretted my bad decision not to tell him that I'd seen Kurt at the fundraiser.

What a mistake.

After a couple of hours at the studio, I was standing at the drawing table where Keith worked, since Nathaniel was at home for the morning. Keith's work was really dark and political, a commentary on the city's poverty, his paintings showing the juxtaposition of the homeless and extremely wealthy. I sat at a table and turned the pages of his catalogue, which had been used at a recent gallery showing. Over my shoulder, Keith described each one, telling me the history of each piece.

I glanced back and saw that Drake was standing in the entry, watching. Keith turned and took a step back.

"This must be your boyfriend," he said softly. He'd seen my painting and must have realized who Drake was.

I stood up, realizing in an instant that Drake would be jealous. It didn't matter that the scene he happened on was completely innocent. He'd just be jealous that I was with some strange man he didn’t know. I wasn't naïve enough to think he'd be unaffected.

I went to him and took hold of his coat's lapels and pulled him down to kiss  me.

He did, dragging his gaze away from Keith with obvious reluctance. He kissed me finally, paying attention to me, his arms going around my waist possessively.

"I thought I'd pop by and see how you’re doing."

"Almost done. Just finishing up the last touches."

"Can I see?" he said and went to the canvas, which was over by the far window, facing the other direction. I ran to the painting and tried to block his way.

"I don't want you to see it just yet, Drake."

He tried to sneak by, taking my shoulders and pushing me gently out of the way. When I resisted, he tickled me and I couldn’t help but squirm in his arms, giggling.

"No, Drake!" I said mock angrily, trying not to grin.

Just then, Keith came over and tried to block Drake from seeing the canvas.

"The lady said no," he said, his voice firm. Keith was not as well-built as Drake but he was as tall and could probably have taken Drake on if he wanted to.

Drake stopped and put his hands on his hips. "Take it easy," he said, his voice tight. "I was just playing around."

Keith glanced at me, a frown on his face.

"It's OK," I said. "He was just having fun. He knows I don't want him to see it yet."

I took Drake's hand, trying to diffuse the situation.

Keith held up his hands and backed away. "Sorry."

"This is Keith," I said. "He's one of the artists who uses Nathaniel's studio. Keith, this is Drake, my…" I hesitated. Boyfriend sounded so juvenile. Partner sounded so professional. I certainly wasn’t going to say Dominant…

"I'm her
boyfriend
," Drake said authoritatively.

Keith nodded and went back to his drawing table.

We returned to the apartment in Chelsea and I showered once more, then dressed in something really pretty, spending extra time on my makeup and hair. I put on perfume and chose my cream cashmere sweater with the mother of pearl buttons and made sure to leave a few buttons undone. I did everything I could think of to look my best so that Drake would be glad he had me, when I did tell him the truth.

So instead of walking to my father's as I had planned, Drake drove us. I'd tell Drake about Kurt after lunch, after we had sex when he was basking in some nice post-orgasm endorphins. I'd tell him the truth – that I was trying to escape Kurt, but he wouldn't let me and I had to finally run away from him and tell him to leave me alone, that I was happy with Drake.

I hoped it would be enough so that Drake didn't get the wrong idea, but I felt so incredibly guilty about not telling him right away, I wanted to kick myself in the butt. If he was mad, he had every right. I'd accept his anger and apologize for not telling him. I'd promise to always tell him everything from then on.

I hoped it would be enough. Drake said he was very jealous and even though he had no reason to be, I knew the photograph was suggestive. If I didn't know better, even I would think there was something intimate going on between us after seeing that picture.

I hoped that Drake never saw that photo and that I would merely have to tell him that I had spoken to Kurt and that he was as annoying and upsetting as he had been before.

During the ride to my father's, I crossed my fingers and hoped that would be the case. Then I remembered the video of him with Sunita – one more thing I hadn't told Drake.

I swallowed back my anxiety and tried to smile but it was empty.

We arrived at the apartment on Park Avenue and Drake dropped me off. He said he had an errand to run and would be back in fifteen minutes. When pressed, he wouldn't reveal what it was so I gave up and went upstairs by myself. I was greeted by the scent of something delicious – fresh garlic and white wine. Maybe pasta or crepes – Elaine made both and very well. After hanging up my coat and removing my boots, I popped into my dad's office but he wasn't there for a change. I heard him in the bathroom, humming away while he shaved. He was late getting ready. Probably taking it really easy after being sick for the past week.

"Hi, Daddy," I said through the door.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said, opening the door a crack. "Glad you're here. Elaine's in the kitchen making your favorite – Chicken Alfredo. You go in and say hi. I'll be out in a minute."

"Great," I said, smiling as he closed the door.

I popped into the kitchen and watched as Elaine finished tossing a salad, the Chicken Alfredo cooking in a saucepan. To the side was a carton of heavy cream, a triangle of Parmigiano Reggiano, and a bottle of white wine. A bag of fresh fettuccini noodles sat to the side.

"Hi, honey," she said when she saw me standing in the doorway. "Where's Drake?"

"He said he had an errand to run so he dropped me off first. He should be back soon."

She put down a cloth she was using to wipe the counters and came to me, giving me a hug. Then she frowned and looked at me firmly.

"Did you read this morning's papers?"

I sighed, knowing immediately what she meant.

"You mean the
Weekly
?"

She nodded. "I didn't know Kurt was back in the US. Why did they say he was your escort? What happened?"

I bit my bottom lip. "He wasn’t my escort but he was there. As soon as I saw him, I left. You can ask Nigel. Kurt followed me outside and wouldn't leave me alone and so I took a taxi home. But before I could get away, someone snapped a picture."

"Has Drake seen it?"

I exhaled heavily. "No," I said, covering my eyes with a hand. "I didn’t tell him about Kurt being there. I honestly didn't think
anyone
would publish any pictures of us. Besides, Drake was sick and well, I decided I would tell him when he was feeling better…"

"You didn’t
tell
Drake?"

I shook my head. "I tried to tell him later but he put me off. I know that was wrong, but I didn’t want him to have any doubts about me. It meant
nothing
to me to see Kurt again. It was just upsetting. Drake's really jealous and—"

"Oh,
honey
, you should have told him right away," she said, her voice filled with warning. "Honesty is the best policy. Tell him as soon as you get a chance, in case he does see it."

"I will. I know it was a mistake."

My dad popped his head in the kitchen. "What was a mistake?"

I shook my head and gave him a hug. "Oh, nothing Daddy."

He hugged me back and laughed. "What's this for?"

"Just glad to see you."

He squeezed me and then kept his arm around my shoulder when our embrace ended. "Where's that man of yours? I didn't see his coat in the closet."

"He'll be here soon," I said, swallowing hard, my anxiety growing about seeing Drake. "He's running an errand of some kind."

"Hope he gets here soon. I'm starved."

"Me, too," Elaine said, putting the salad in the refrigerator. "Let's go wait in the living room."

I followed my father and sat next to him on the couch, while Elaine went to the music system and put something on – her usual favorite jazz. After some chitchat on my father's campaign, I checked my watch – it was already 12:45 and so Drake had been more than fifteen minutes. That wasn't like him at all – he was usually exceptionally conscious of appointments, and was often early. I began to have a bad feeling about things.

The three of us sat and talked about the weather, which was nice but cold, then we talked about their viruses, and how their symptoms cleared up. We talked about my father's new videoconferencing app on his phone. When I checked my watch again, it was one o'clock and there was nothing from Drake on my phone or email.