Chapter Four

Belle

I didn’t know how to take all this in. When we landed, I was confronted with the ultimate tropical paradise, a giant compound with a huge wraparound porch in a pale peach color. It looked like it would be at home in Havana or in any Spanish island, even if we were in the Bahamas. Rationally, I knew that Drake was rich, a type of rich my father had always worked and scrabbled toward but could never reach. But it was another thing to see it in person, to see a mansion the size of the average college dorm looming up from the sand and surf. God, the place even had wings. I know because his older, slightly rounded housekeeper, Mrs. Johnson, was showing me to the direct opposite side of the house—-no, estate—from where Drake was headed.

It took quite a few minutes of walking down labyrinthine halls before we reached my bedroom. I gasped at the tropical island paradise that awaited me: white wicker furniture, a four-poster bed with mosquito netting hanging down from it, and soft, pale lilac walls. Walking farther into the room, I spied an open door that led into a closet overflowing with clothes. I hadn’t checked the labels yet, but I was sure they’d be designer ones, only the best for me this month. I’d had some money growing up before the business went bad, and I liked a fancy dress as much as the next girl. Still, it had been years since I’d even thought of pampering myself. We’d had such a hard time since my father’s money troubles and my mom’s sickness had affected things.

Nevertheless, it felt like a magnet was pulling me closer to the amazing assortment of finery, as if playing dress up could help this crazy stunt make sense.

“You don’t have to look so sad,” Mrs. Johnson said as she set my suitcase down on the bed. “Drake is many things, and while he’s sometimes too brash and too cocky, he’s a good man. When I first started as his personal housekeeper, I hadn’t been here more than a year when he came to my rescue, like an angel.”

“How so?” I asked, my interest piqued.

“When my granddaughter was born, she needed a heart transplant, and he arranged to get her to the top of the list, no questions asked. Little Sabrina’s sixteen now and talking about prom and college.” Her eyes welled up with tears. “I never thought that I’d see that, not when we first got the news. He’s done similar things for so many of his employees and the children in L.A., his charity work. His gifts go beyond what you could imagine he’s capable of. He paid to move Leonard’s family to the safety of the United States from Haiti and has an apartment set up for them as well. Like I said, Drake may come off as gruff or strutting his stuff, but it’s a front. I think you’ll grow to understand that.”

I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the grease in it from the flight and wishing for a shower before dinner. A seven-hour flight, no matter how luxurious, was a pain in the ass. “You don’t have to give him the hard sell. It’s not an infomercial, Mrs. Johnson.”

“Penelope, please, dear,” she said, patting my shoulder. Her eyes were kind and lined with age, which for some reason made me tear up. I think it was because I was scared I’d never see my mom grow that old. And she wouldn’t, not if we couldn’t afford the right treatment. “Are you all right?” she asked, pulling an actual handkerchief from her pocket.

I took it gratefully and dabbed at my eyes. “It’s just… you know why I’m here, that we need this deal to go through so the company can survive in some form—even merged with his—and my mom can keep her health insurance. It’s so hard.”

“Shh, I know this is going to work out. You need to get a nice hot bath, and I’ll set out your clothes. Don’t worry about anything tonight. Just enjoy dinner with Drake, and you’ll see. He’s a good man. I promise that.”