Page 18 of Boss Daddy's Girl

"Yeah, I should."

He doesn't move away from me, though. In fact, he seems to be leaning even closer, his head tilting down, eyes fixed on my lips. My breath catches in my throat as I realize what he's about to do, but I don't want to stop him. I should push him away, I know, but I can't. I don't want to.

Before I can make a decision either way, his lips brush mine, the lightest of touches. His breath is warm against my face, his hand coming back up to cup my cheek. "Don't do anything to get yourself into trouble, Ellie. I know you're a troublemaker at heart, no matter how much you pretend not to be."

"You think you know me so well," I murmur, my eyes locked on his mouth.

He chuckles. "I know you better than you think. I've been watching you for a while now, El."

My heart skips a beat as he leans in again, and I close my eyes, waiting. I can feel his mouth hovering inches away, so close that I could lift my head and close the distance myself. I want to.

Before I can, Drake steps back, smirking a little. I open my eyes, feeling my cheeks flame with heat as he looks me up and down. "Have fun tonight," he says, taking another step away from me. "I'll see you later."

We barely crosspaths for the rest of the day, and I watch Drake's icon on my device tracking app and make sure he's out of the hotel room before I go up to change. I'm already regretting my subterfuge to attend the screening, which I don't even care about, but I've set my plans into motion, and I have to follow them through.

Now, I look at myself in the mirror and tug my skirt down my legs, wishing it was longer. The cream-colored sheath dress hugs every inch of my curves, and while it's not exactly revealing, it's much more form-fitting than anything I would usually wear.

I run my fingers through my curls, trying to get them to behave, but that's a losing battle. They're wild, and there's nothing I can do to tame them. I slip my feet into my black heels and take a deep breath, smoothing my hands over my hair one last time before picking up my clutch and heading downstairs.

At this moment, Drake will be starting the demo for NatureCo, so there's no chance I'll run into him on my way to the screening. The thought makes me smile a little. Even though I'm angry with him for the way he treated me earlier, I can't help but be relieved that I'm avoiding him. He already doesn't like me going out alone. He'd be even angrier if he found out I was going to see Claude's documentary.

I walk through the lobby, trying to look as confident as I feel. My heels click on the marble floor as I pass the bar, and I can feel the eyes of several men lingering on me. The thought makes me blush a little, but I ignore them all the same. I'm on a mission. A mission to be an independent, confident woman and to pretend that my every waking thought right now isn't on Drake and how pissed he'd be if he knew what I was doing.

The theater is on the second floor, and I hurry to the elevator while it's still empty. There's someone outside taking names, and just like Claude promised, I'm on the list of special guests. The usher escorts me down to the bottom level, where a portion of the seats are sectioned off for VIPs.

Claude is standing in the center of the VIP area, greeting everyone personally and in a suit that looks much too formal for the event. His eyes light up when he sees me, and he hurries over. "Mademoiselle White," he says, taking my hand and kissing it. "How wonderful to see you."

"Likewise," I reply, taking my hand back as soon as possible and discretely wiping it on my dress. He's so slick. It's off-putting, especially compared to the straightforwardness of Drake.

I don't realize I've thought of his name until Claude speaks again. "It's a shame Mr. Evans couldn't make it."

I give him a tight smile. "He was needed elsewhere."

"Of course." Claude smirks. "We wouldn't want to bore him with a documentary, would we? Mr. Evans seems the easily bored type."

Another dig at Drake’s intelligence. It pisses me off, but I say nothing. It's clear he's baiting me, and I won’t let him win. Instead, I change the subject, asking him about the film. He's alltoo eager to tell me about it, and were he not so full of himself, it might be impressive. He tells me about the locations, the people he worked with, and the logistics of filming while climbing a dangerous mountain.

Before long, the lights go down, and the film begins. I can’t ignore the feeling that I'm cheating on Drake, even though I know I shouldn't. We aren't a couple. I have every right to be here, watching a movie about climbing, something he has no interest in doing. But still, I feel guilty. Guilty enough to keep my phone face down in my lap so I won't be tempted to check it every two minutes.

The breadth of my mistake becomes even more apparent when Claude takes the seat next to me. There's no reason for us to be so close, but he continues to lean over to try and explain the documentary to me every few minutes. At one point, he puts his hand on my leg, and I almost jump out of my skin, trying to shuffle away.

There's a brief intermission where Claude stands to speak about his movie so far, and I try to make small talk with the other VIPs around me. I recognize plenty of them—world-class climbers, other companies CEOs, and even a pair of B-list movie stars—and groan internally. If even a single one of them recognizes me, Drake will know I was here.

Isn't that what I want, though? For Drake to realize I have a life outside of him and that if he wants me, he needs to act?

Once the movie restarts, Claude ups his efforts to get into my space. The fake-casual touching, the talking so close I can feel his breath, makes my chest tight. I don't want this. I don't want him close to me at all. I have gravely misunderstood what Claude thinks tonight is going to entail.

"Can you get me some water?" I blurt out to him, and he stops mid-sentence, furrowing his brow.

"Now?" Claude whispers back. "But we're almost at the part?—"

"Please."

He huffs in annoyance, but once he remembers that everyone around us can see him trying to dismiss my request, he stands up to do as I ask. Letting out a breath of relief, I look around and try to decide just how I'm going to make my exit. Maybe I'll be able to get upstairs and change before Drake is done with his demo, and he won't ever have to know I was here.

Spotting an exit at the bottom left of the screen, I start to rise out of my seat when suddenly someone drops into the seat Claude was just occupying. I immediately know it isn't him—the sprawled-out, almost lazily casual body language of the newcomer is different from the stuffy Frenchman.

In an instant, without even turning to look, I know it's Drake, even in the dark. Swallowing hard, my pulse kicking into overdrive, I turn to look at my boss.

---