50 Shades of Drake 1 and 2

Chapter Twenty-Six

    The next few days were a blur. Destiny functioned on auto-pilot and went through the motions of work and class. Wake, shower, eat, work, class, repeat. Wake, shower, eat, work, class, repeat. She found herself daydreaming in class. She got a kick out of the fact that out of everything mentioned in the contract, her brain was focused and locked in on the most mundane. Her brain was stuck on the fact that he would be allowed to have other women while she wasn't able to date other men. Meanwhile, she'd skipped right over the sections mentioning punishment, whipping, flogging, and spanking.

    Her sexual experiences thus far had been very vanilla, to say the least. She wasn't a stranger to the doggy-style position, and liked to vary positions to change things up. But whips? Chains? Bondage? Those concepts were new to her, definitely nothing she'd tried before. Nothing she'd ever planned to try. If she analyzed her own actions, the only reason she was giving those concepts even a second thought wasn't because she wanted to try them out. It wasn't due to a curiosity she had about being tied up. She was giving these acts consideration only because of the man she'd be committing the acts with.

    Committing, she thought now as she leaned over the bakery counter. What an ironic choice of words there, Des.

    She didn't realize that Carlos was staring at her with a look of pity until he made a clucking sound with his tongue. She hoisted a look in his direction.

    "Are you going to continue staring into space like that, or are you going to help me with these croissants?" he asked with a hand on his hip.

    "Are you giving me a choice?" she joked.

    Carlos looked her up and down. "What's gotten into you? You get rescued from the club by that gorgeous hunk of man, and you spend the night with him, and yet you look like a kid who's been told that Santa Claus doesn't exist."

    I wish I could tell you, she thought. I wish I could talk to you, or Candace, or Jasmine about this, but I can't tell anyone. That was one of the worst parts about it. She had questions and wanted to know what they would do in her position. She took one look at Carlos, who looked to be having a fantasy about Aubrey right then and there, and she knew what he would do. He would have signed the contract without even reading it, all "Take me, I'm yours." Jasmine seemed liberal and confident enough to at least try it out. Candace was a bit more reserved in that regard. If Aubrey wasn't prepared to meet her parents and put a wedding band on her finger, she wasn't trying to even hear the word sex from him.

    "Did he do something, or did he hurt you?" Carlos asked, his expression changing from light-hearted to concerned.

    She shook her head firmly. "No, nothing like that."

    "I don't understand why everything involving him has to be so hush-hush," he muttered as he started to stock the shelves with croissants.

    "Because of who he is," she said with a deep sigh. "What if someone overheard us talking about him? I'd be mortified."

    "Mortified? Pfft. I'm ready for my close-up, hunty," Carlos said with a wave of his hand.

    Destiny laughed for possibly the first time in the past three days. She turned and assisted him with stocking the shelves. Surrounded by ball gowns and suits one evening, and dressed in a white polo shirt and khakis while stocking bakery shelves the next. Was this her life, or had she stumbled into the pages of some bizarre adaptation of Cinderella?

    The door to the bakery dinged and a messenger wearing a purple and white hat and uniform entered, carrying a large, flat box.

    Carlos frowned as he popped a piece of gum into his mouth. "What is this?"

    Their manager appeared from the back and went to speak to the messenger. She turned to Destiny. "The package is for you."

    Destiny's eyes widened. "I didn't order anything," she said, walking around the corner.

    Her manager, whose dark hair was pulled back from her face in a ponytail, gestured to the return address on the package. "Does the company ADG sound familiar?"

    ADG? Destiny peered at the return address. A spark of recognition lit her eyes. Aubrey Drake Graham. "Umm...yes. Yes, I remember now." She hurriedly signed for the package and carried it to the front counter. She smoothed her hands over the cardboard box, staring down at it.

    Carlos came to stand beside her. "Well? Aren't you going to open it?"

    Can I open it? she wondered. Or is a pair of fuzzy handcuffs going to fall out of the box? Not that Aubrey struck her as the type to have a pair of fuzzy, pink handcuffs. He seemed like the type to carry the real thing, industry-grade stainless steel. No fluff, no gimmicks. She cleared her throat and, with care, opened one end of the box. She bent at the waist until her eye was level with the opening of the box. She peered inside and breathed out a sigh of relief. She stood and pulled out a sleek, slim laptop.

    "You forgot ordering a computer?" Carlos asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

    There was a Post-It note stuck to the closed surface of the laptop. The note said, "I respect your need to take some time to make a decision regarding my offer. I hope this helps with your research." She slipped the note back into the box, her pulse racing.

    Carlos narrowed his eyes. "You didn't order this, did you?"

    "Carlos, shh," she hissed while placing the laptop back into the box.

    Carlos gasped and covered his mouth with his hands. "He sent that to you," he whispered. "ADG-ADG, Aubrey Drake Graham. Of course!" He smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand.

    "Carlos..." She threw him a warning glance.

    He pinched his index finger and thumb together and drew them across his lips, indicating that his lips were sealed. "He bought you a computer? Why would he do that? Did you tell him you needed one?"

    No, I didn't, she thought. "I have to put this in my locker. Cover for me?"

    He nodded, but his eyes were filled with curiosity.

    She carried the box into the back room and stored it in her locker. She pressed her palm flat against the closed locker door, shaking her head. The text of the note advised that he respected her need to take time to make a decision, but she could read between the lines. The laptop served to be a gentle, nudging reminder to make up her mind as quickly as possible.

    Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. No doubt it was Aubrey checking in to mak esure she'd received her "gift." She sighed and, ignoring the buzzing phone, returned to work.