In Love With My Bully-Chapter 95: Unexpected Guest

Chayara wasn’t used to visitors. Scratch that—she wasn’t used to him standing in her doorway, looking like he walked straight out of a billionaire romance novel with his effortlessly styled hair and eyes that could melt glaciers. She was expecting a food delivery. Instead, she got Drake.

Her brain short-circuited for a second.

"Hey... hi... what are you doing here?" she managed, gripping the edge of the door.

"You’d know if you checked your phone." His voice had that teasing lilt that always got under her skin.

Drake. cocky, gorgeous Drake.

"Uh... I was kinda busy," she mumbled, suddenly realizing how breathless she sounded.

He folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe, giving her a look so exasperated, it almost made her laugh. "Okay, this is awkward."

"What?"

"Me. Standing here. At the door. You. Standing there. Behind the door. You’re making me look like some creep who just shows up at women’s apartments uninvited."

Chay face-palmed herself. Why was she like this? She swore her brain took unscheduled vacations whenever she was near him.

"I am so sorry. Please, come in." She stepped aside quickly, trying to regain some dignity. "Can I get you something? There isn’t much, but I ordered food! We can share that. Or I can get you a drink! Oh, right—"

Drake reached out and gently grabbed her wrist, stopping her mid-ramble.

"Chay... breathe."

She did. She did because what choice did she have when he was looking at her like that? His fingers were warm against her skin, sending a current up her arm. She felt everything at once—his presence, his scent, the way his shirt pulled against his shoulders as he moved.

For the love of God.

She cleared her throat, yanking herself out of the spell. Quickly, she stepped back, smoothing down her shirt.

"I’m sorry," she said. "I rarely get visitors."

"Is that why I’m still standing at the door?"

"Oh, God." She groaned, shaking her head before stepping further inside. "I’m a lost cause."

Drake walked in, scanning the room. Everything was too neat—borderline obsessive. Books were arranged by color, picture frames were perfectly aligned, and even the pillows on the couch sat at precise angles.

"This place suits you," he commented.

"Thanks."

"You said you ordered food?"

"Yes."

"I’ll stay for that. But Queen also sent me to take you shopping."

Chayara folded her arms. "You don’t have to do that."

"I want to," he countered. "Someone needs to get you out of the house every once in a while, and since Queen can be overbearing, I took the task out of her hands."

"You’re going to sit there while I try on dresses?" She arched a skeptical brow.

"I know you well enough to know you’ll only try on one."

"You don’t know me."

Drake smirked. "Then prove me wrong. Try on a hundred."

She opened her mouth to argue, but—damn it—he was right. She’d probably pick the first dress she tried on just to get the trip over with.

Instead of admitting defeat, she rolled her eyes and said, "Whatever. Sit. I’ll get you a drink."

As she disappeared into the kitchen, Drake casually pulled a book from the shelf and placed it under a napkin on the table. He smirked to himself. He’d bet money that before they left, that book would be back in its exact spot.

A minute later, Chayara returned, holding a bottle of water like it was some sort of peace offering. "I don’t have anything else."

He reached for it, but instead of just taking the bottle, he stepped forward—too close—until she had to look up at him.

"That’s okay. Water is good."

And then he did the thing.

That thing where he looked at her, really looked, in a way that made her forget how to function. She felt every inch of space between them shrink.

Her heartbeat picked up speed.

The air changed.

His scent; clean, masculine, with a hint of spice wrapped around her senses. Her fingers curled against the bottle as she imagined just for a second what it would be like to step even closer. To reach up. To—

She shut her eyes for a moment. Get a grip, Chayara.

Her father’s words echoed in her mind. Think about telling this guy you like him.

Maybe now was the time.

Maybe she should just—

The doorbell rang.

She practically jumped out of her own skin, turning away so fast that she nearly collided with the wall.

"Food’s here!" she blurted.

Drake chuckled, stepping back with an amused expression as she dashed toward the door.

Chayara yanked it open, eager for anything to break the tension.

*****

Drake sat back on the sofa, leisurely working his way through his food, while his eyes subtly tracked Chayara’s every movement. She was pretending—really pretending—to be comfortable.

He almost laughed.

Chay had always been the master of composure, but right now? Right now, she was a walking bundle of nerves. Her fingers fidgeted. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear three times in the last five minutes. She bit her lip way too much for someone who wasn’t having a mental breakdown.

Drake leaned back, arms spread along the back of the couch, one ankle lazily resting on his knee as he chewed slowly. He’d always wondered how she and Queen could be so different yet so inseparable.

Queen was arrogant. Chay was reserved.

Queen had thousands worshipping her. Chay had a very small circle of people looking out for her.

He knew their family history; his father had made sure of that years ago.

The Numeros.

The reason his father had missed birthdays, graduations, and special occasions. The reason his father had never gotten married. His father had been more loyal to them than to his own family.

Drake had grown up with that bitterness, thinking he’d resent the Numeros forever.

But then he met them; two girls, seemingly oblivious to the weight of the name they carried. And any grudge he thought he’d have disappeared.

At first, it was Queen he noticed. She was magnetic, impossible to ignore. He spent more time with her, got pulled into her orbit. But Queen had her head so far up her own ass she wouldn’t notice if someone was in love with her not even if they wrote it in the sky.

And while Queen soaked up the limelight, he and Chay were the ones looking out for her. Protecting her from people who wanted to take advantage of her.

Chay took their empty plates and tied the bag with an obsessive level of precision before tossing it into the bin. And then the moment he’d been waiting for.

She noticed the book on the table.

Her fingers hovered for half a second, her brain processing that something was off.

Drake hid a smirk.

Chayara picked it up and without even thinking put it back in the exact spot on the shelf where he had taken it from.

And just like that, she proved his theory right.

"This is why you hide from the outside world, isn’t it?"

She turned, frowning. "What?"

"This," he gestured vaguely at the room, "is why you refuse to work with Queen."

Her eyes darted back to the bookshelf. Oh.

"You did that on purpose?"

Drake gave a slow, smug nod.

Chay sighed, crossing her arms as she plopped down on the sofa beside him. "That’s not why, Drake. Queen knows or she refuses to see it. But no one else is close enough to notice. I don’t want to work at Numero Corp and if I work somewhere else, my family might feel slighted."

"Because of your dad?"

Chay exhaled through her nose, a small smile pulling at her lips. "How is it you still know me so well after all these years?"

Drake studied her for a second before shaking his head. "You’re a good person, Chay. Don’t ever forget that."

And before she could respond, he was already on his feet, stretching his arms above his head, his shirt lifting just enough to reveal a tantalizing hint of hard, sculpted abs.

Chayara’s brain did an emergency shutdown.

Abort. Abort.

"So. Shopping for your birthday." Drake clapped his hands together. "Come on, let’s go."

Chay nodded, her movements slightly robotic as she followed him toward the door. Act normal, act normal, act nor—

They stepped outside.

And then...

Oh.

Oh, hell no.

Standing there, right in front of her apartment, looking infuriatingly comfortable, was none other than Lilian.

*****

"Hey, darling!"

The voice was like honey laced with arsenic.

Chay stiffened so fast Drake almost heard her spine snap.

Even though Lilian wore a warm, practiced smile, Drake caught the way Chay’s entire body language changed; shoulders tensed, jaw clenched, fingers curling into fists by her sides.

Chay’s voice was flat. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you, my dear." Lilian’s smile widened.

"Well, I don’t want to see you," Chay snapped. "Besides, I’m on my way out."

And just to drive the point home, she quickly turned and locked her door with the swiftness of someone escaping a crime scene.

Drake arched an eyebrow. Interesting.