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him exactly what he could do with his
necessary
destruction of her.
    She wanted to laugh at the idea that he thought her desperate enough to swallow that load of bullshit. Necessary her
ass
.
    No.
    Gullible
was the more appropriate word. And she was certainly guilty of being just that.
    Gullible. Naïve. Needy. Impulsive—oh yes, certainly impulsive. Too stupid to live. Just to name a few. And to think she’d patted herself on the back for supposedly learning her lesson after Eddie and walking away from
that
disaster all the wiser.
    She pried herself from Drake’s arms and turned away, unable to look at him and see her own stupidity reflected in his eyes. Instead she fixed her gaze sightlessly through the window and vowed not to shed another tear over Drake Donovan. She couldn’t bear his touch because it broughtback all the nights those hands had covered every inch of her body and how much pleasure they’d given her.
    What she wouldn’t give to be able to kick his ass. To be one of those women who could stand up for herself. The kind of woman that men respected because they knew they couldn’t get away with fucking her over. She hadn’t even been a challenge. She’d given token protests, knowing the entire time that she would concede and give Drake anything he wanted.
    She bit into her lip in disgust. She couldn’t even summon the courage to tear into him with words, knock him down a rung or two. The simple truth was, all she wanted was . . . She closed her eyes wearily.
    To be left alone. To be able to go somewhere private away from public scrutiny so she could lick her wounds and forget Drake Donovan ever happened. And then die a very private death, one she’d already died a dozen times in the few days since the blinders had come off.
    She wanted to go home. Her desire to be in her mother’s arms was a physical ache. It had been a mistake to come here, for her to think someone as gauche as her could ever exist outside her small-town upbringing, much less fit in.
    She snapped her lips shut before hysterical laughter could escape them.
    Far more embarrassing than ever believing she could have made a life here in the big city teeming with sophisticated urbanites was the fact that she’d actually allowed herself to think the differences between her and Drake didn’t matter. That she could hold her own in his glamorous world. That she could satisfy a man like him, whose demands were all-consuming. That he would possibly ever be happy with mousy, decidedly
unglamorous
Evangeline.
    Oh God, if she didn’t shift her train of thought, she was going to die of humiliation. What a pitiful, tragic weakling she was. She was goingto have bruises from the number of times she’d kicked herself over her presumptuousness.
    Her mother had always said that if something seemed too good to be true, chances were it was precisely that.
    Where had that little nugget of wisdom been when Evangeline found herself catapulted into Drake’s glittery world?
    But at the end of the day, she had no one to blame but herself. She’d willingly worn blinders.
Embraced
them. She hadn’t
wanted
to know the blunt truth. She was too busy immersing herself in a fairy-tale world of her own making to ask the important questions, to question her own judgment. Because if she did, then her fantasy would shatter and break apart, collapse around her like a devastating landslide and bury her in its suffocating debris.
    Eddie, her ex, had been right about one thing. The sudden, bitter thought burned like acid and left an acrid taste in her mouth. She was nothing more than an ostrich going through life, burying her head in the sand at the first hint of adversity. Only, right now, Evangeline didn’t feel shame over the comparison. Who the hell
embraced
adversity? Certainly not her. She didn’t thrive on pain—whether hers or someone else’s.
    Although a secret part of her wished she could have that night back all over again. Just five minutes of it. With