When Evangeline awoke, two things immediately registered. One, Drake was no longer in bed with her and two, it was well into the morning. Likely approaching noon and yet exhaustion still weighed her down and all she wanted to do was snuggle deeper into the covers and go back to sleep.

As she shifted to a more comfortable spot, turning to where Drake had slept, her hand instinctively reaching for any lingering warmth or evidence that it hadn’t been a dream, her gaze lit on a folded piece of paper with her name scrawled across it.

Forcing herself to a sitting position, she crossed her legs and reached for the note, hesitantly opening it, unsure of what it would say. Then her brow furrowed as she took in the contents.

Your things are in the living room to put wherever you like. But just so you are aware, only your personal keepsakes and mementos were brought over. Your clothing, shoes and accessories were thrown out. One of my men will be there waiting to take you shopping for anything you require, and I expect you to buy everything you need. My man will have a list of the necessary accoutrements, and the salespeople at the shops you will be escorted to have already been given my instructions as well as your measurements and will have appropriate selections for your viewing when you arrive.

Her measurements? And for that matter what was wrong with her clothes? Why would he just throw them out without even consulting her? How wasteful was that? The clothes certainly weren’t expensive by his standards, but she’d had to save to buy each and every item and she’d never been able to go and buy an entire wardrobe or anything. She bought a pair of jeans or a T-shirt or a pair of shoes. When she had the means to do so. Sending money to her parents was her first priority. Her comfort was a far second on her list. It stung that he’d so thoughtlessly discarded clothing that she’d worked damn hard for. So what if they were bought in a thrift shop or on the clearance rack of a bargain shopping center? She’d paid for every single thing with her own money. No one had given her anything and she took pride in that. Never once did one of her roommates have to cover her share of the rent, because she made sure that after sending money to her family, she had enough to cover her part of their living arrangement and pitch in on groceries. She also did most of the cooking so they didn’t spend money eating out, which meant she saved more money for the necessities. Drake was obviously ashamed of her, and that ate at her. She had her pride. She knew she wasn’t anything to look at, and she still couldn’t fathom what she was doing here in his apartment with instructions to go shopping for an entire new wardrobe where one outfit would likely cost more than all the things Drake had so blithely tossed out.

She felt . . . humiliated.

She jumped, her pulse accelerating when a phone rang next to her on the bed. She glanced warily, looking for the source, to see an expensive high-tech cell phone that would take her a year to save for and was definitely a frivolous expenditure. She glanced back at the note to read further and saw that Drake had informed her the phone was hers and that he would be calling her later in the morning.

She tentatively picked up the phone, hoping she was hitting the right button, and murmured a hesitant hello. His answer was crisp, businesslike.

“Justice is on his way. He may already be there. He’s taking you shopping.”

She felt an unexpected sense of disappointment that it wasn’t Maddox. He had been the nicest to her and wasn’t quite as intimidating as some of the other men Drake worked with. And then she shook her head because she was crazy. They were all dangerous and complete strangers to her, and yet she was to trust them because Drake instructed her to.

She hesitated and bit into her bottom lip, bothered that she was even required to go on a shopping trip. If she wasn’t good enough for him as she was, then she sure as hell wasn’t going to change everything about her just so she met his standards. Whatever the hell they were since he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming on those yet.

He seemed to pick up on her sudden silence, and she wondered if she should add mind reading to his growing list of accomplishments, though it appeared as though there was nothing he couldn’t do or accomplish. But then money, or rather having money, lots of money, seemed to come with a completely different set of rules and parameters that favored the “haves” over the “have-nots.”

“What’s wrong, Angel?” he asked in a soft voice that suggested he would not be pleased nor would he believe her if she simply said nothing or pretended that he was imagining things. It would be an insult to his superior intelligence.

She flinched, not wanting to get into what was bothering her.

In a subdued, quiet voice she responded. “Why did you throw away all my clothing, even my underwear and my shoes? If I’m not good enough for you the way I am, then why would you want to change me into something I’m not? It wouldn’t be real. Unless that’s what you want and any woman would do. A woman you play dress-up with like a doll and make her ‘good enough’ to be seen with you. I’m proud of who and what I am,” she said fiercely. “I paid for every single item of clothing you thoughtlessly threw away. I liked them. More importantly, nobody bought them for me or gave them to me. I worked for everything I have and by throwing practically everything I own away you sent the message loud and clear that I’m not good enough, and you’re sending one of your minions shopping with me so I don’t embarrass you in front of others.”

The line went silent, and she tensed because she could practically feel his seething anger through the phone. She swallowed nervously and closed her eyes, thinking that maybe he would be just pissed off enough to wash his hands of her now and let her go back home.

Instead, he sighed, and she imagined him running an agitated hand through his hair, his lips set into that firm grimace that made him look so intimidating.

“Angel, the clothes you have are shit. Now don’t get me wrong. You being you and as beautiful as you are, you rock that look. But other women would never be able to pull off your kind of shine in shit clothing. This has nothing to do with you embarrassing me, and it sure as fuck has nothing to do with you not being good enough for me. It has everything to do with the fact that you’re mine now and I take care of what belongs to me. Which means that what you wear, the shoes, the jeans or dresses, and especially the underwear, I pay for. I wanted to do something nice for you and you need nicer clothing, not shit you had to walk into a fucking charity shop to buy. My woman will never wear anything that’s been worn by another woman. Period. So get that fucked-up shit about you not being good enough or you embarrassing me out of your head right now or you’re just going to piss me off. Because it’s complete bullshit and I won’t have you thinking it every time you put on something I bought for you.”

Evangeline was stunned into silence and sat on the edge of the bed, mouth gaping open. This time, however, he didn’t take her silence as her being upset or angry, as he’d picked up on her earlier silence. How the hell could the man tell when he needed to address something when he wasn’t even within a mile of her, much less able to see her or gauge her body language or facial expressions?

“I’ve got to go now. I have an important meeting. Justice should be there soon if he’s not already, so you might want to make yourself presentable because I’ll be damned if another man sees what’s mine and mine alone to see. He’s going to take you to eat and then shopping. I don’t want you hungry.”

And she thought she couldn’t get more flustered than she already was.

“I need to know you get me,” Drake said impatiently. “The words, Angel. Give me your acceptance.”

“All right,” she finally said in a near whisper.

“Good.” And she could hear the satisfaction in his voice. “Now get a move on and get dressed so Justice doesn’t see what he shouldn’t and then I have to beat his ass.”

She thought he’d already hung up when his last statement came through.

“And, Angel, just so you know, I will not be pleased if you refuse to accept any of the items I have arranged for you.”

Slowly she ended the call and let the phone fall to the bed, then glanced back at the note that she still hadn’t finished reading. She started at the beginning again, quickly skimming to the parts she hadn’t yet read. At the very bottom, in Drake’s distinctive scrawl, was written:

And call your girls and give them your new number so I don’t have to have my men haul one or all their asses out of my apartment again at five in the morning.

She laughed and then drew her knees up, hugging them to her body as she looked around in wonder. Was this really happening to her? How on earth had she fallen down the proverbial rabbit hole into an alternate reality?

She shook off the overwhelming sensation that she was fast spinning out of control and called Steph first, because the last thing Evangeline wanted was for the police to burst into Drake’s apartment determined to rescue a kidnapped woman. To her relief, all three girls were at the apartment together, so they put her on speakerphone, which meant she wouldn’t have to tell the same crazy story three times.

In as level a tone as she could manage, she outlined the events ending with her coming back to Drake’s apartment with him. Their reactions were explosive.

“Have you lost your mind?” Nikki squeaked. “Vangie, what do you even know about this guy? What if you go missing and we never hear from you again?”

Evangeline sighed. “Is it too much to ask for a little trust from my best friends?”

“We just think you should give this a little more time, preferably away from him where you’re not overwhelmed,” Lana said diplomatically. “You have to admit, this is awfully sudden and completely out of character for you.”

“Yeah well, so was going to Impulse, but y’all didn’t mind coercing me into that,” Evangeline snapped.

Until now Steph had been silent, and that should have told Evangeline the worst was to come.

“And how long do you think it’ll take this Drake guy to get tired of you and scrape you off? What the hell are you going to do then, Vangie? You can’t let yourself be solely dependent on any man, and especially not one with his kind of power.”

Hurt splintered through Evangeline’s heart, and her sudden intake of breath had to have been heard over the phone, judging by the ensuing silence. But what bothered Evangeline even more was that Steph had scored a direct hit and nipped at an already blooming insecurity over just how long this thing with Drake would last.

“That was uncalled for, Steph,” Lana said angrily. “You’re acting like a jealous bitch and it’s not very attractive on you. Leave Vangie alone. As long as we’ve known her she’s never done a single thing for herself. Maybe it’s high time she did, and lived a little.”

“I need to go,” Evangeline said quietly. “I have to be dressed and ready to go in ten minutes.”

“Wait, Vangie, before you go,” Nikki said in a rushed tone. “The landlord came by this morning to give us a receipt and a rent-controlled contract. The rent has been paid in advance for two years, with a contract guaranteeing no increase in rent for the next ten. How insane is that?”

“Drake didn’t want my leaving to cause you financial problems,” Evangeline said quietly. “Lucky for y’all, after he shakes me off, you’ll still have a rent-free place to live and a guarantee of no increase for a long time.”

Then she quickly ended the call, still bothered by Steph’s comment.