50 Shades of Drake 1 and 2

50SOD II: Chapter Forty-Two

    "I've worked in the marketing field for about five years. It has been amazing, so far, but I can feel the industry shifting. Can't you?"

    Brian raised both brows. She asked me something just now, didn't she?

    The expression on the honey blonde's face was expectant. She'd definitely asked him something, and he hadn't heard one word of it. Lost in his own thoughts. Regretting the way he'd acted with Destiny. He'd been reckless. Foolish. He hated to blame the alcohol, despite Jamie Foxx's encouragement. But it had been the alcohol. He wouldn't have ever been that bold without it. Not when it came to someone who worked beneath him, someone who was dating the one man in the company who was his superior.

    He picked up his shot glass and tossed it back.

    "Did you hear my question?" the slender blonde asked. In truth, she was beautiful. Gorgeous, even. Her hair hung down her back and curled at the ends. Her eyes were blue. Blue and pretty. Shining with hope that maybe he was the one, her prince charming. Her skin was tanned...whether naturally or unnaturally, he couldn't be sure. She had that California girl look, even though she claimed to have been raised in Toronto all her life. Nice, pouty lips that looked capable of driving any man crazy. Cute, pert nose. Breasts that hadn't been given to her by her mama...most likely they'd been given to her by a Jewish cosmetic surgeon. Not that he was hating on that. Whatever helped a woman's self-esteem, whatever made her happy. He felt like he should find her appealing. She was beautiful, spoke eloquently, and from the sounds of it, had a great career going for her.

    But I'm not into it, he thought just as rain started splattering against the window to his left. I feel like I should be into it. But I'm hung up. Hung up over a woman I'll never have the chance to be with. He stared at the woman seated before him, wishing that he could turn feelings on and off. This was a woman who would probably be sweet to him. Treat him very well. Ask him how his day was when he got home from work. Give birth to genetically gifted children. "I didn't hear the question," he said, making sure to drop a hint of apology into his tone. "I was just thinking how beautiful you are. I'm sorry. Please repeat the question."

    She flushed, lowered her eyes, and smiled. A woman this gorgeous had the grace to be modest. Too good to be true. Perfection served up to him on a silver platter, and he didn't want it. She repeated her question just as a loud splash of rain hit the window.

    He turned wide eyes to the window and peered through the rain. What he saw caused him to think that he was hallucinating. His heart stopped beating in his chest.

    "Did you hear me that time?" the blonde asked him.

    He continued staring out of the window. "I...I wasn't...I tried...I..."

    "Are you okay?" she asked him.

    Blinking slowly, he pressed his palm flat against the window. Across the street, dressed in white, was a brown-skinned angel. A vulnerable, helpless angel. Pain struck in his chest. He turned back to his blonde date, and the look in his eyes was blank. "I...I have to go."

    Her eyebrows shot up. "What?"

    He reached in his pocket, fished out his wallet and tossed a bunch of large bills on the table. The bills he'd thrown on the table were a gross overpayment of their meal and drinks, but he didn't care. He stood out of the booth and kissed the blonde on the forehead. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. I just...I have to go."

    A look of confusion was frozen on her face, but he couldn't take the time to care about that right now. He moved through the bar in a daze and pushed his way out of the front door. Rain poured down on him, soaking his Italian designer suit. He didn't care. He moved forward anyway, to the street corner, with his eyes anchored on the brown-skinned angel wearing a corset, a tiny little skirt, thigh-highs, cute little heels, and...was that a collar on her neck? Her curly hair hung heavy down the front of her chest, weighed down by water. How long had she been standing out here? And why was she standing out here, in his neck of the woods? What are the odds that I would randomly look out of the window and see her? I don't know if I believe in fate or anything like that, but that can't be a coincidence, can it?

    She had her head tilted back and her arms stretched out, like she was a rose whose petals were spreading to accept spring's first showers. He drank in the sight of her. Cars would pass by, temporarily blocking his view of her. And then there she would be again.

    Eventually, she lowered her head and opened her eyes. She looked right at him. The look in her eyes was haunted, like she'd seen something she hadn't wanted to see.

    "Just...come to me," he whispered, even though she wouldn't be able to hear from where she stood. "Come to me, and I'll take care of you."

    She wrapped her arms around herself, but kept her eyes focused on him. Those dark, big beautiful eyes that he couldn't get enough of. Those beautiful eyes haunted his dreams.

    Water soaked his hair. He brushed his hair out of his eyes and continued to study her. "Come to me." He mouthed the words, hoping she could determine what he was trying to say, even with the distance that stretched out between them.

    Cars moved back and forth, headlights blinding.

    She tilted her head to the side while staring at him. Then she lowered her eyes and stared down at the ground.

    He wanted to cross the street, gather her up in his arms, and carry her to his car. He wanted to take her back to his house, dry her off, and give her some nice, fresh clothes to wear. More than all of those things, he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and rock her to sleep. And what is she doing here dressed like that? To his knowledge, the only clubs that were tucked in that little area were places that the average good girl wouldn't know about and wouldn't dare enter.

    A tall figure appeared behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

    Instinctively, Brian took a step back.

    She turned to face Aubrey. The two of them exchanged words. It looked like she might be crying, but Brian couldn't be certain, not with this much rain falling. Then she was hugging Aubrey and burying her face in his chest and Aubrey was kissing the top of her head.

    Brian watched them, trying not to feel envious. Trying not to feel like the metaphorical rug was just pulled from beneath his feet. Trying to feel like he hadn't just lost the opportunity to claim the fallen angel who dominated his thoughts these days.