Page 22 of Diamonds & Deception

Ironically, I’m not afraid for my life. Only of my heart. I don’t tell Lenora this. She wouldn’t understand. She never lets her heart get attached to the men she dates. If only I could be more like her.

“I’ll be careful.”

“Okay. Skip to the sex part. Let me guess. He’s a selfish lover with a pencil dick.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong on both accounts.”

“Fuck. He’s hung like a stallion? Of course he is. Okay, so you woke up in his bed. Did you snoop through his desk? His underwear drawer?”

“Not exactly. He got us a hotel room.”

“What? Why, when he lives on the top floor of the building?”

“He doesn’t know that I know that. For whatever reason, he’s aloof about his role in Four Aces. He wants me to think he only works there and doesn’t own it. But last night, I hung out with the manager of the dance club’s sister, and she babbled on about Drake owning the casino, so I can’t pretend I don’t know he owns it anymore.”

“This is a lot to take in. Honey, we need to talk more than once a week. Your life is way more fascinating than mine. I hate to hang up on you, but I’m dining with the princess of some country I can’t pronounce.”

“I’m pretty sure dining with a princess is more exciting than being treated like a whore.”

“I thought you said the sex was good.”

“It was, but why not bring me to the penthouse?”

“You just said he’s been keeping his identity a secret. Maybe that’s why.”

I hadn’t thought of that. Since Avery talked about him being the owner, I can come clean about knowing who he is. Maybe then he’ll let me into his personal space. And if not, I won’t sleep with him again. The sole reason for having sex with him was to get inside his home.

The lie is easy to tell myself, but my heart is calling me out on it.

“I actually think that’s pretty smart of him. I can’t imagine the number of women who throw themselves at him just because he’s gorgeous and rich. And apparently hung like a stallion.”

I think back to the first time we met, and we talked about Gatsby and Daisy. He grew up poor. I wonder if he got pushed aside by a girlfriend because he didn’t have money. If that’s the case, he’s no longer on my shit list. Well, he’s not at the top of it.

“Hun, I gotta go. Text me updates. Use protection and ride him like a cowgirl. Love ya. Bye.” She hangs up, and I’m left staring at my cell phone.

There are four unread text messages. One from my mom, asking me to call her when I get a chance, and three from Drake.

Drake: I had a great time last night. Call me when you wake up.

An hour later, he sent another.

Drake: Are you free Monday? For breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner. Or sex. Preferably all of the above.

And then another from not long ago. He must have sent it when I was on the T.

Drake: Came upstairs to check on you and you’re gone. You okay? Let me know you made it home safely. And answer your texts so I don’t sound like a desperate lover.

But I am desperate. To see you again.

How can he make me smile when I’m so pissed at him? Granted, I don’t know any more why I’m upset with him. I wasn’t expecting to even see him last night. He was working. Yet he came toThe Clubto see me, took however much time off work to screw my brains out and bring me orgasm after orgasm before returning, and left me many messages.

Drake didn’t do anything wrong. Although, how he managed to have a hotel suite handy irks me just a little. He had the key card ready. Did he go toThe Clubexpecting to pick me up and bring me back for a few hours of wild sexcapades?

Or is the suite something he always has handy for whenever a willing woman crosses his path?

There’s only one way to find out. I text Drake back.

Me: I had a good time as well, although my body may need a few days to recover. I should be good to go by Monday.

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