Mr. Drake's …
The thought of pleasing him, of being his to command, of doing as he demanded, filled me with longing. But had I screwed things up before they had a chance to get going? Would Mr. Drake still want me after last night?
I dressed quickly and followed Mr. Daniels to the waiting Rolls Royce. I raised an eyebrow at the choice of vehicle, then slid into the back with a muttered "thank you." I couldn't believe I was going back to my crappy apartment in this thing, but I supposed I'd have to get used to it if I was really going to pursue this.
By the time I reached home, I'd made up my mind: It was worth the risk. I would be Mr. Drake's slave. I would give him control when we were alone, and do my best to please him.
That is, if he'd still have me.
The next day I arrived at the office in my best red dress and high heels, ready to declare myself his, only to find that Mr. Drake was out for the day. I drummed my fingernails on the desk, willing the time to pass, but the clock seemed to be rigged to move at half speed. If I didn't need the money, I would have left then and there to go find him, but I couldn't risk losing a day's wages.
I fidgeted as I worked through a pile of transcriptions, stopping frequently to daydream about what I would say to him once I saw him again. I mumbled the words to myself at my desk in the empty corridor outside the executive office, practicing.
///
"I'm sorry, Sir. I let my fear get the best of me. I do trust you, and I want to do this. To be with you … "
It sounded so stiff, but I'd never been good at voicing my emotions.
"This is the best thing that's ever happened in the whole of my boring-ass life," I said, sighing. "I can't chicken out now."
The bell on the elevator chimed, and I sat up straight, smoothing my hair down in case it was Mr. Drake returning.
A bike messanger stepped out and made his way to my desk, holding out a manilla envelope with one word scrawled across it. Isabeau.
"I was told to leave this with you," he said.
Curious, I took it from him. "Do you know who it's from?"
He shrugged, looking bored. "I just go where I'm told, lady. Some guy had me waiting in the lobby all morning to deliver this as just the right time. Weirdo."
He made for the elevator without looking back. I waited until the doors slid shut behind him before tearing the envelope open. I pulled out a note written in an elegant hand on Mr. Drake's personal stationary.
I knew you'd change your mind, my little temp. Stay with me tonight.
But first, pick yourself up some new clothes. A car is waiting outside to take you to the stores I prefer. You'll need a cocktail dress, shoes and lingerie.
I opened my mouth, wanting to protest, even though no one was around, then smiled as I read the last line.
Do as you're told, or you'll get more than a spanking.
He knew me so well.
I raised an eyebrow. He knew me too well. How did he know I'd changed my mind about being his?
I peered around me, scrutinizing everything on my desk for the first time. Then, I spotted it-a Drake & Smith pen holder stood nestled between my stapler and computer monitor. A black camera lense winked up at me from the middle of the ampersand.
That sick bastard has been spying on me! I wondered if there was a microphone in place as well and shook my head. Suddenly, I grinned, and reached for my post-it-notes. I scrawled a quick note, and held it up to the camera.
Your wish is my command, SIR.
I blew a kiss, then covered the camera with the yellow post-it. I giggled, imagining his face contorting in annoyance as the visual cut out. I was definitely going to be punished for that little stunt later. But for now, I had more important things to do.
I turned the envelope over, and a credit card slid out onto my desk. It was an American Express Black Card, made of titanium, and it clunked as it hit the wood. I gasped. I'd heard about these, but never seen one in real life. They were invitation-only and as exclusive as it gets … and here I was holding one in my hand.
I picked my jaw up off the floor and headed for the elevator. It would be a shame to keep Mr. Drake waiting.
When the Rolls pulled up in front of the first store, I couldn't believe my eyes. This was a section of town I'd never shopped in, for obvious reasons. There was a Tiffany's next to a Gorgio Armani, and several boutiques with french names that seemed more than a little intimidating. I stepped out of the car, and gave the driver a nervous glance.
"You'll be fine, Miss Willcox," he said, his smile making his eyes crinkle. "The boutique is just up ahead. They're waiting for you."
I nodded and mouthed a "thank you." My mouth was too dry for words at that moment. What was I doing? I didn't belong in a place like this, wearing a dress that I'd purchased on sale at the Gap. It was humiliating.