Page 16 of Sweetheart: Part One

Unknown: This is Drake. Got your number from the contract. Hope that’s okay.

I added his number to contacts, the second one in the phone, since I’d received it only yesterday. There were unreasonably flighty butterflies in my stomach, too.

Drake had taken the time to look for my number? To check on me?

Unsure of what to do with myself at this hour, I snuck out of the room in silence. I’d done what would become my morning routine, I’d rubbed the make-up from my bite and replaced it—though it had survived the night, checked my contacts, and sprayed myself with my cherry blossom scent.

My neck—thankfully, was only faintly marred by bruises. Ebony had been furious, but it had been more of a threat than actual follow-through. It had worked, all the same, I’d been terrified, but the smallest layer of foundation did the trick to cover it.

The mansion was cool, existing in that perfect moment of peace. That moment in time when dawn broke, but the sun hadn’t yet touched the world with warm light. When I was at my best, I loved to wake with the sunrise.

I made my way to the office downstairs. Sure enough, upon the long table was the envelope. I pulled up a chair and cracked it open.

Inside was the contract.

In this pristine mansion office, the white space of the last page stared back at me. Any one of their signatures was all I needed.

The simple stroke of a pen on that blank page, and I’d be safe just a little longer.

ROOK

I was on edge, waiting for Vex to show up.

I couldn’t get her out of my head.

She’d spent the whole of the previous evening in her room, which, after the Ebony incident, I sort of got. But she was here as a Sweetheart, right?

Drake had emerged from her room yesterday, and told us she was staying on despite what had happened, and I’d felt an obscene relief. Ebony’s expression had gone stony, which warmed my cold little heart. Consequently, he’d also been hiding in his quarters ever since, though I’d call that a win.

Right now I was seated on the couch, an ice pack to my face. Love had snorted at me when he’d seen me refreshing them today, but I couldn’t be too careful. I kept myself tattoo (and scar) free, since I hated relying on makeup for photos or interviews, and we always had a few scheduled, even on our time off. Plus, there was the Diamond Tides Gala coming up. I did a lot of the publicity stuff myself—I enjoyed it most, and that suited the others just fine. Sometimes Ebony fought me for it, either when he was bored, or hadn’t got a hit of worship for too long.

It was lunch, and I’d anxiously hovered in the living room all day to Aura Boxing reruns. I don’t know why, but the brief glimpse I’d had of Vex yesterday wasn’t enough.

I needed to scout her out. I was picky about who I was intimate with. Ebony was vicious toward anyone if he thought they might matter to me, but the joke was on him.

Acting was kind of it for me, and I didn’t have a problem with that. Intimacy stayed to flings and never anything more. My career and my pack. It’s all I wanted. I didn’t need a woman coming into my life and making it complicated and shit. But Vex was pretty enough to catch my eye.

Plus… she was already solidly in Ebony’s cross hairs without help.

So I was admittedly curious.

I pondered that curiosity, trying to piece together exactly what made me so damned interested at all. The first reason was obvious: she was getting a rise out of Ebony. Anyone who could make a fool of him was curious in my book. Plus, she’d given me the perfect excuse to catch Ebony on the receiving end of my fist and aura a few times before Love had dragged us all apart. (Hypocrite, since he’d landed the first punch). Vex was interesting even without that. She had a draw about her, and I wasn’t the only one who felt it.

She was also hot as fuck.

Was it rude to think that about a woman you’d only ever seen frightened out of her mind?

Probably.

Unlike nearly every other thing in the world when it came to my life though, my thoughts were for me only, and I could be as rude as I fucking wanted.

Shewashot—like, really fucking hot. I’d already rubbed one out to the thought of her last night, which wasdefinitelyrude. Though, she’d been a whole lot less frightened, and a whole lot more intomein my head.

I wasn’t the only one curious, though. Love was in the lounge during a Sweetheart week, and he was rarely drawn by anything that didn’t involve our pack or career. He was dressed properly, as usual, not like me who preferred sweats and a t-shirt when I lounged about the house.

Love wore clean dark jeans and a black button-up tucked in with the sleeves rolled half way up. His raven-black braid was done to perfection, hanging over his right shoulder where it reached half-way down his torso. He wore his reading glasses, which wasroughon a style level, and I didn’t care how much easier it made the hobby.

Then again, some chicks were into that. What were the chances she would be? But most betas liked an alpha in sweatpants like I was, though. It was a safe guess.

---