Chaos by Sarah Bailey

Thirty Five

Scarlett

Slipping out from Prescott and Francis’ arms was a lot harder than I anticipated. The two of them were pressed so tightly against me, I was sure I would wake them up. It was a fucking miracle I wriggled out and dropped off the end of the bed in relative silence. Straightening, I looked back at them. They were both fast asleep, their breathing steady and even.

Thank fuck.

I crept over to the bedside table and fished out what I needed from my bag. Then I picked up one of their discarded shirts and slipped it on. It smelt of cinnamon and apples so I knew it belonged to Francis. Buttoning it up, I forwent underwear, considering I’d drenched it earlier. If I went rummaging around in Francis’ wardrobe for more clothes, I would end up waking them.

I slid my feet into my slippers before padding over to the door and opening it with gentle care. My eyes went back to the boys in bed but neither of them had moved. I darted out of the bedroom and along the hallway, my feet light on the carpet. When I got to the stairs, I ducked down behind the glass when I noticed a figure standing by the window. I froze in place, hoping he hadn’t heard me.

For a minute, he did nothing. Then he let out a sigh and walked towards the stairs. I was about to get up and run when he went under them instead. He opened the door to the stairwell and stepped through, shutting it behind him.

What the hell is Drake doing up at this time and where is he going?

I tucked the memory stick my dad had given me into Francis’ shirt pocket before descending the stairs. It probably wasn’t a good idea for me to use the lift but Drake was in the stairwell.

Fuck!

This wasn’t going to plan at all. I’d have to take a chance. It was my only hope. Not that I wanted to do this, but I was mad enough at Drake to consider doing what my father asked of me… or was I?

He’d fucked up with me, no doubt about that, but my anger had lessened. Especially when he didn’t complain about me not wanting to see him at work. In the penthouse, it couldn’t entirely be helped, but I avoided being near him as much as I could. The man was a damn menace. Well, I could try telling it to my fucking feelings, but I wasn’t talking to them. They kept betraying me.

I steeled myself, trying to hold on to my annoyance at his actions. At the way he’d used and punished me. I wanted to hate him so fucking bad, but a part of me wondered why. What possessed him to take it so far? Our relationship had soured before it had even started. I wanted him to talk to me, yet all I’d done was push his buttons and piss him off. Not a great start. But it didn’t mean I would let him off the hook. Nor would I allow him a fucking inch. He would take a damn mile if I did.

I walked underneath the stairs and opened the stairwell door slowly. There were no sounds of footsteps so he must’ve already left. Creeping into it, I shivered. Sneaking around their building in just a shirt and slippers wasn’t my best plan, but I had little choice. It was now or never. I wouldn’t get another chance. They were careful about locking the doors behind them at night. My distraction tactic had worked. Didn’t mean I felt any less shit about doing it.

Sighing, I descended the stairs to the floor below the penthouse and pushed open the door. I crept out into the lobby and along the hallway towards Drake’s office.

Please don’t be down here.

There were no lights on anywhere so I could only hope he’d gone somewhere else. When I reached his office, I pushed the door open and found it empty. Breathing out a sigh of relief, I walked in and went right over to his desk. It felt odd to sit in his chair. I’d sat in his lap in it before. All it did was remind me of the way he’d punished me in here. My cheeks heated. I pressed my fingers to them.

Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about it. I dragged the chair closer to his desk and moved the mouse. The screen lit up. By some kind of miracle, it wasn’t locked. I sat back, staring in disbelief. I thought I might have to break into the system, but no, it was wide open for me.

Sickness coiled in my stomach as I took the memory stick out of the shirt pocket I’d stashed it in and placed it on the glass desk in front of me. This was huge for me. It would be declaring war on the Horsemen. At least, that’s what it felt like. If I went through with this, I would be giving my father access to data he should never see. Access to things to help us bring them down.

What do you want to do? Do you really want to hurt them this much?

I shook my head, trying to stop my conscience from rearing its ugly head. It did it anyway. How could I do this without solid irrefutable proof they’d done what my father said they had? No one had proof. It was all conjecture and fucking theories. The truth was tangled up in the web of lies all of us had weaved together.

I dragged my fingers across the glass remembering the way he’d pinned me down on here. When he’d spanked me and how I’d secretly liked it but would never admit it to him. I didn’t hate Drake. No matter what he’d done to me, I wanted to know what went on inside that damn head of his. He was a sickness in me. A toxicity. A desperate, all-consuming desire to tear him wide open and rip out all the secrets he was hiding.

You’re fucked up.

Perhaps I was. Maybe I was too far gone to care how low I’d sunk. Christ, I was in love with a man who was lying to me. I was falling for another who had outed my relationship with him to my father. One of them had permanently marked himself on my skin, making me his and I’d let him. And the last… he’d infected me in the worst way possible. They all had.

I put my fists to my eyes and dug them into the sockets before slamming my head against the back of Drake’s chair. No matter how hard I tried to justify all of this to myself, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to hurt any of them. Not really. But if they’d done what my father kept telling me they had… didn’t it make them monsters?

You like monsters. Don’t lie to yourself.

Dropping my hands, I groaned and shook myself. I had to stay strong. If I didn’t do what my father asked then I would land myself in more shit. But if I did, then I would hurt the men my heart told me I could trust even when my head told me I shouldn’t.

Which one did I believe?

Which one did I fucking trust in?

It only took me a second’s more thought before I stood and snatched up the memory stick, stuffing it back into my shirt pocket. I couldn’t do this. Not to them. Not when I didn’t have proof of their crimes. Not when I didn’t know the truth.

I set Drake’s chair back to the way it had been before I came in here and crept out, shutting the door behind me. Leaning back against it, I tried not to allow myself to fall apart. I’d almost done it. Almost gone ahead with sticking the damn memory stick into Drake’s computer to give my father access to everything. But my conscience had won out in the end. It wouldn’t allow me to hurt Prescott, West, Francis and Drake.

You’re an idiot.

But I was the idiot who’d fallen in love.

I straightened and walked back down the hallway towards the lobby. Entering the stairwell, I paused on the first step. If Drake hadn’t come down here, where had he gone? I shouldn’t be curious about it, but I was.

No, it doesn’t matter. You need to get back to bed.

I walked up the stairs and reached the door to the penthouse when I stopped dead. There was a faint sound echoing down the stairwell… music of some kind. Turning my head, I looked up at the stairs. My feet carried me towards them and before I knew it, I was walking up the next two flights of stairs to the roof. The music got louder as I went. It sounded like a guitar, but I couldn’t be sure.

When I got to the top, I found the emergency exit door wide open. Did I really walk out there in a shirt and slippers? It would be cold. And yet the sound of music made me want to find the source. I stepped out onto the roof, looking back to find the door had been secured to the wall behind it. In front of me, there was a structure with all sorts of equipment surrounding it. I couldn’t see anyone else up here.

The music was louder now. I could recognise it as an acoustic guitar playing. If I turned back, I would never know who was strumming it. The wind blew, giving me goosebumps all over my bare legs. I pulled the shirt lower on my thighs, but it was futile.

Unable to help myself, I skirted around the structure and stopped dead in my tracks. Behind it, there was a rooftop garden. Neat rows of wooden planters sat with flowers and other plants spilling out of them. There was a seating area with a couple of sun loungers, a bench, a small table and a few wooden armchairs. Whilst all of that stuff stuck out to me because I wasn’t expecting it, it wasn’t what drew my eyes. No, it was the glass structure beyond the planters.

I walked towards it down the middle of the planters. On all four sides, it was glass with a white roof. Two glass sliding doors were open and the music spilt out from there. There was a large grey sofa and two armchairs with a low table. And right in the middle of the room sat in the comfiest armchair I’d ever seen in my life was the man who’d become the bane of my fucking existence since the day he’d landed in it. In his lap sat a black acoustic guitar. His fingers worked over the strings with practised expertise. The melody he played was utterly tragic and haunting.

Drake had his eyes closed, his dark hair flopping over them as he played. I’d never seen him look so… unkempt. His shirt buttons were undone and his sleeves rolled up. His feet were bare. And the backdrop of him against the cityscape under the dark sky with stars twinkling above him was more than I could take. He looked utterly tortured as he played a tune that spoke to my soul. A song of death, terror and loss rang through the notes.

I found myself drawn to him even knowing I shouldn’t be here intruding on this moment. I leant against the glass door, watching him play, unable to leave because this was the first time I’d seen Drake display real emotion. He played the guitar like he was purging himself of his feelings. And holy fuck, he was beautiful. A fallen god.

After everything that had happened between us, seeing him this way made my heart burn in my chest. What had hurt him so much to make him like this? Closed off to everything. And then there was this, him all alone up here in the middle of the night, playing like his life depended on it. I didn’t know what to make of it or him.

The last note rang through the air, making me freeze in place. If he found me here, I would be in serious shit, but I couldn’t move, far too captivated by the sight in front of me.

Drake raised his head and opened his eyes, staring right at me. It’s as if he’d known I was there and it hadn’t come as a surprise to see me. His lip twitched, making me swallow. For a long moment, he said nothing as his fingers brushed along the strings.

“What are you doing up here, Scarlett?”

He didn’t sound annoyed. In fact, his voice was gravelly as if his throat was clogged with too much emotion.

“I don’t know,” I all but whispered.

He let out a sigh and placed the guitar down next to him, leaning it up against the armchair before he sat back. His long fingers dragged along his face. Those beautiful hands I’d admired from basically day one. Now I knew why his fingertips were calloused. He played an instrument. And it was almost more than I could take.

Drake’s eyes were still on me. His gaze made me tremble as I stood there unsure if I should stay or go. Then he reached out a hand to me. I looked at it. It felt like a peace offering. I was hesitant to walk over to him after everything that had gone on between us.

“Will you please come and sit with me?” he asked in a quiet voice.

Drake didn’t ask or request. He ordered. And knowing this wasn’t a demand made the decision of what to do… easy.