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Noriko

 

 

 

In the limo I sat, legs crossed and arms across my body, as Mr. Blackwell sat on the other side of the limo from me.

I was absolutely fuming.

And totally confused.

When I reached the top of the stairs and my eyes met his, I swear I saw awe. There was a look upon his face. That look. The way that Papa used to look at Mama like she was the most beautiful creature to ever grace this Earth. I felt, for the first time in my life, like a woman. Like a beautiful, cherished woman.

He had to go ruin it all by snapping at me over the dress. I shifted in my seat. What the hell was wrong with this dress anyway? I thought it looked good on me. So did Loretta. Didn’t he think so?

Why did I care what he thought?

I don’t care.

Mr. Blackwell cleared his throat. “I may have…possibly…maybe…overreacted. Back there. About the dress, I mean.”

I glanced over to him. He looked so uncomfortable, tugging at his collar, fidgeting with his diamond cufflinks, I almost laughed. “Go on.”

“You do look…nice. The dress is…fine.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you apologizing?”

He let out a huff. “It appears so.”

“Haven’t done it in a while, have you?”

“No,” slid out between his teeth.

I softened my voice. “People usually use the words ‘I’m’ and ‘sorry’ when they’re apologizing.”

He glared at me.

I smiled at him, batting my lashes.

He sighed. “Fine. I’m…sorry.” He almost sounded like he was in pain.

“Apology accepted.” I uncrossed my arms and smoothed down my dress over my thighs. It wasn’t lost on me that his eyes followed my hands, a hungry glint growing in them. Suddenly it felt very, very hot in here.

It didn’t help that I suddenly heard the limo doors locking. The partition between us and Felipe was fully raised. It was just me and Mr. Blackwell here in this limo cabin that felt like it was getting smaller and smaller by the second.

Jeez, it was…stuffy in here.

The gates of the manor opened. Under the flood of spotlights, I spotted a crowd of people on the other side, some of them with placards. I could hear chanting muffled through the windows but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Who were these people?

We drove through the gates, the security guards coming out of their box and walking behind us, I assumed to make sure these people didn’t get into the grounds. I gasped and sank back into the seat as the crowd swarmed us, their faces and hands banging on the car, pressing against the glass. They looked angry.

Mr. Blackwell slid into the seat beside me, startling me as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t worry,” he said softly in my ear. “They can’t get in.”

I released the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. His presence was like a hot balm against my side. His nearness calmed me. God, he smelled good. A fresh cologne like a sea breeze. I couldn’t help but press closer.

The driver proceeded slowly until we broke away from the crowd. I looked back at them through the window, their chanting fading. I noticed that Mr. Blackwell had not loosened his hold on me. Even stranger, I didn’t seem to mind it. “Who are those people?”

“They’re protesters.”

I shot Drake a look. “Really? I couldn’t figure that one out for myself. What are they protesting against?”

“Me.”

“Against you? I can’t see how you could anger anyone enough to garner protesters.” My words were sarcastic but my tone was light.

“You looking to join them, wife?”

“Join them? Heavens, no.” I grinned. “I thought I should lead them.”

He rewarded me with a laugh. There you go. I made the beast laugh. Perhaps there’s hope for him yet. “They’re not protesting me, per se. Well, I suppose they are in a way. They’re really protesting what I’m doing.”

“Cutting down the rainforest? Dropping trash into the oceans? Eating little children?”

He clasped his chest with his free hand. “It hurts to see how little you think of me.”

I laughed. “Go on. What did you do that is worth protesting?”

He paused, unable to meet my gaze. He obviously didn’t want to say.

“Don’t worry,” I said lightly. “I can’t possibly think any worse of you.”

He snorted. “That’s one small mercy.”

I nudged him. “Come on, Drake. I’m supposed to be your wife. If you can’t talk to me, who can you talk to?”

He let out a huff. “Fine. I set up and funded a country-wide charity for women who were raped and need emergency abortions.”

It was like he’d slapped me.

I couldn’t even speak. Had I completely misjudged him? Could this beast actually have some good in him? Did he possess warmth underneath his cold façade?

I finally found my voice. “That’s a wonderful thing you did.”

He turned his head to look out the window. “Not everyone thinks so.”

I stared at his profile, his jaw twitching as he ground his teeth together. His bad reputation hurt him, despite what he told himself.

I weighed up the many sides of this man that I’d seen these last few days. He refused to let me call my father. But he looked at me sometimes like I was the very moon in the sky. He was rude, crass, and a terrible workaholic. But he was generous and he actually did things to make this world a better place.

I got this inexplicable urge to brush aside the hair that had fallen over his forehead. It was like he was two different men. Which one was the truth? Who are you really, Drake Blackwell?