At His Word (The Billionaire’s Beck and Call #6)(2)
Author: Delilah Fawkes

I slid into my seat and straightened my skirt against the leather, my heart fluttering at the fact that this man had just chosen me over someone like that. Maybe I had nothing to worry about. Maybe this mysterious man meant exactly what he said when he claimed I was his.

***

The Bentley’s headlights shone on a large, wrought-iron gate, leading to the biggest house I’d ever seen in my life. It actually looked like Mr. Darcy’s manor from the Colin Firth version of Pride and Prejudice–a sprawling construction that looked more like an ancient castle than anywhere an American family would live. We were at the top of a hill, the Drake estate tucked back away from the other wealthy residences, their window-covered walls glinting in the moonlight as we drove past.

Mr. Drake rolled down his window and pressed the intercom button. “Chase Drake.”

“Nice to see you again, Sir,” piped the voice through the speaker. There was a quick buzz, and then the gates rolled to the side, allowing entrance to the grounds.

I sank into my seat, the enormity of what I was about to do overwhelming me. I was about to enter a party in Mr. Drake’s childhood home. I was about to meet his mother. Suddenly, it was too hot in the car, my body sweating beneath the designer clothing he’d chosen for me. Would she approve of me for her son? Or would she be able to tell with just one look that I was a nobody–just some temp he decided to sleep with this week?

The car rolled forward, and I swallowed hard.

By the time we were parked, nestled next to Mercedes, BMW’s, and what looked like James Bond’s Aston Martin, my mouth was bone dry. Mr. Drake’s hand on my leg made me jump.

"Are you okay, Isa? You look positively shaken."

"I’m fine. Really."

How could I tell a man like this that this kind of thing terrified me? That I knew I wasn’t good enough? That just the sight of a house like this made me want to curl up into a ball and disappear? He would never understand. How could he, when he grew up here?

"You’re not fine, Isabeau. You’re missing something." His voice was low, with a hint of humor in it.

"Missing something?"

"Of course, little slave," he said, his hand caressing my throat. "Did you think I wouldn’t notice?"

I sucked in a breath, the touch of this thumb over my delicate skin making me shiver with longing.

"I gave you that collar to wear, not to leave behind when you left this morning. A beautiful woman like you should always wear beautiful things."

He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a velvet box. When he opened it, the diamonds on the platinum choker glittered in the moonlight. I looked down at my hands, clasped in my lap.

"It feels like too much."

"Isabeau." Mr. Drake tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. "It’s not too much, and it makes me happy to give it to you. Please wear it. Let the world see that you are mine."

Hesitantly, I ran a finger over the charm in the shape of a lock, caressing its edges. "Alright. But I feel silly wearing something so extravagant."

"Trust me, Isa. No one will think twice seeing it around your neck."

He brushed my hair off my shoulders and fastened it for me. His fingers trailed from the lock down the skin exposed by my blouse, before dipping beneath the silk and tracing the top of my cle**age. My body heated in response to his touch, and suddenly, I wished we didn’t have to be here. That we could go straight back to his home and he could savage me in his dungeon. I moaned at the thought. Looking up into those green eyes of his, I knew he was thinking the same thing.

He drew his hand back and sighed.

"Let’s go."

***

I found myself touching the necklace for reassurance as I strolled at Mr. Drake’s side through the crowd of dinner guests. As if the honest-to-God butler who showed us in wasn’t enough, the house itself was covered in luxuries that made my eyes pop. A fabrige egg stood on a polished silver stand next to marble statuettes in an enormous glass case, and oil paintings of who I assumed were family members lined the walls. The place reeked of old money in a way that made the hair on my neck stand on end.

What could I possibly have to say to someone who lived in a place like this? Would his family hate me right away, or would they wait until I inevitably made a fool of myself to shun me?

I closed my eyes and balled my hands into fists. Just breathe…

Mr. Drake’s hand on my arm brought me back. "Relax, Isa. You’re doing fine."

He smiled, and my heart warmed at the way his eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the corners. I wanted to stand on my tip toes and kiss him then and there, but I settled for putting my hand in his and letting him lead me through the room.

"Chase, darling. So glad you could make it after all, although I wouldn’t know it from all those calls you ignored."

"Hello, Mother. You look lovely, as always."

Mr. Drake leaned over and kissed her papery cheek. She was in her sixties with silvery blonde hair swirled into an elegant up-do. Her hard, grey eyes assessed me, roaming from the top of my wavy hair down to the points of my heels, before coming back up to rest on the choker.

"Yes, well. Some of us have to keep up appearances." She touched the strand of pearls at her throat and pursed her coral lips.

Mr. Drake’s hand on the small of my back was a reassuring presence.

"Mother, let me introduce you to Isabeau Willcox. Isabeau, this is Madeline Drake."

"Another one of your colleagues, Chase? Should I even bother remembering her name?" She extended her hand, and I took it out of habit, although I felt like my jaw had hit the floor at her words. "Nice to meet you, Miss Flavor-of-the-Week. Now, if you’ll excuse me?’

"Mother," he began, his voice low and dangerous, but she was already waving to a guest, smiling warmly.

"Please ignore her," he growled. "She’s… not easy to please."

I swallowed hard. Even dressed like this, she saw me as a nobody. Just another one of Mr. Drake’s girls. Not worth remembering.

"I can see that."

"Isa." He clasped my hand in his, before bringing it to his lips. "I’ve never brought a date to this house before."

My eyes widened as I met his gaze. "Then, what did she-?"

"I’ve brought a few women to fundraisers and the like when I needed someone on my arm, but never here. Never to my old home. Never to meet her."

I grinned. "I can’t imagine why not."

Mr. Drake laughed, the sound making my heart beat faster. "It wasn’t worth it for anyone else."

Before I could wrap my head around that sentiment, a man with a tray of wine glasses approached, and then another with h’ors d’oeuvres. I sipped the wine, letting the taste roll over my tongue. It was by far the best sauvignon blanc I’d ever tasted. How did I get here, eating and drinking in a veritable castle, with people who never would have given me the time of day if I weren’t on the arm of their billionaire golden boy? It was more than overwhelming. It was surreal.