Denying Mr. Parks (The Parks #1) (22 page)

“It’s Wade, Evelyn. And I did, but I have managed to reschedule my meeting. Are you ready to leave?”

I wanted to scream in exasperation, but all eyes were on me and waiting for my response. “Whatever.” I sighed.

Steph nodded, raring to go but threw me a sceptical look before walking away. “Call me when you arrive, Evey. Let me know how your journey went.” Her tone was dry, and it instantly told me she had every intention of asking me about Parks.

“Sure.”

Parks took the holdall from my hands and placed it in the boot of the Jaguar, then walked around to my side to open the car door for me.

“This should be fun,” I mumbled my displeasure—much to his pleasure.

He bent down to speak into my ear before I got in. “You want fun, Evelyn? I can comply.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” I hit back and ducked my head to get seated. Parks eased into the driver’s seat, and I told him my aunty’s address so he could tap it into his sat-nav.

We drove in silence for some time, but then Parks broke it. “You’ve been ignoring me.”

I couldn’t look at him. “Do you blame me?”

“Tell me why you think you hated it.” He knew I was upset about the spanking, but he also sensed it had been on my mind since.

“Because what gives you the right to smack me?”

He rubbed at his jaw. “Evelyn, it’s spanking, not smacking. I do it as a form of punishment. You misbehave, you get punished. I was always punished for doing something wrong as a child, and it sort of stayed.” He glanced at me intently, searching for my reaction, and all I could think about was his childhood and being punished.

“You were punished?”

His eyes narrowed a little, like my question was absurd. “Of course, Evelyn. If I did wrong, I was punished. Rightly so.”

“Were your parents strict?”

His jaw clenched just slightly. He was either alarmed or annoyed at my sudden inquisitiveness. “Yes, discipline needs to be obeyed,” he answered stiffly.

Well, I couldn’t relate. I wasn’t punished for being bad, because my parents didn’t take much notice of me, given how drugged up they were half the time. I got smacks, punches, and slaps; however, they weren’t for punishment but merely for fun. Even though Parks spanking me should have brought back bad memories, it didn’t. Rather, it seemed to do the opposite and get me excited, get me thinking it was what I needed. I thought of how many times I should have been punished as a child for bad behaviour. If I
was
punished, maybe there was a chance I wouldn’t have turned out the way I did. That’s what confused me the most. How could I hate it but feel I needed it at the same time?

Anyway, I wasn’t willing to tell him anything deep about me even if he had asked. Come to think of it, the dearth of information we actually knew about each other was quite alarming, but we weren’t partners, or lovers, so why did we need to know about each other?

“So you do it to women? To teach them discipline?” It would make sense, but I was still a little surprised.

“Yes. I am a controlled man, Evelyn. I need it. I will have discipline and obedience, and if not, you will be punished. And, on the flip side, what I get out of it is watching the woman squirm with delight in my lap whilst I teach her some manners.”

“You like to hurt woman if they don’t obey your rules?” I was getting more intrigued by the second but a little pissed off too. I had no idea how the mind of a dominant worked, if that’s what he was.

He glanced at me quickly and narrowed his eyes, almost angry. “No. That’s not what I’m about.” Clearly wanting to quickly change the subject, Parks turned on the music system. Joyful classical music blared from the speakers. He shook his head on a smile and turned it down a little.

“Wow, Cleaver was in a good mood.” I smirked.

“Cleaver greatly admires Beethoven, as do I.”

“Is that the name of the song?”

He shook his head, giving me an exasperated look. “No, it’s the name of the composer.”

“Well, the only Beethoven I know is a slobbery St. Bernard.”

He stopped as the lights switched to red and gave me an insulted stare. “Beethoven is arguably one of the greatest composers of all time. Your ignorance is disturbing, Evelyn.”

Then
I
was insulted. I pointed to my chest. “My ignorance? Just because I don’t know who a composer is? Well sorry, but I wasn’t brought up around classical music and playing grand pianos. I was brought up around Bob Marley, reggae, Stevie Wonder, and Meatloaf.” And drugs, violence, and abuse, but I left that out.

“You don’t have to be brought up around a particular music genre to know about it.”

I leaned my head back into the headrest. “Whatever. Smartarse.”

His lips twitched in amusement as he pressed down on the accelerator, and the car moved again. “I thought I was an arrogant ass?”

“Let’s just forget the arses.” I yawned purposely.

“Well, your ass is an unforgettable one. But seeing as I’m getting hard at the thought of your ass, I think we should go back to your music preferences.”

I automatically glanced at his lap when said he had grown hard, and my thoughts went straight to thinking about cupping his manhood. I begged my wayward thoughts to leave me alone and focused on the music.

“I like Ed Sheeran.” I shrugged. “His music is my sanity sometimes.” He shook his head, clueless as he kept his eyes on the road, making me gasp. “You don’t know who Ed Sheeran is? Okay, now
I’m
offended.”

He chuckled that smooth, orgasmic chuckle, the one that showed how much perfection his curved lips were made of. His gorgeous white teeth were also on display when he did it. He was extremely enchanting to look at, and it was hard to deny that watching him laugh wasn’t magical.

“You never fail to amuse me, Evelyn.” He glanced over at me as I tried to get comfortable. But it wasn’t the leather seats that spurred my uneasiness; it was the thought of being in the dangerous company of Parks knowing how hard he said he was from the thought of my arse. “Are you not comfortable, Evelyn? Would you like the seats warmed? Are you too cold? Too hot?”

His concern was kind of adorable, but I couldn’t afford to think of him as adorable. Or think of him at all, for that matter. “I’m fine.” I shuffled in my seat.

We were heading onto the motorway, and I watched him glide his hands around the steering wheel as he held it with such ease and grace.

“So you grew up around Stevie Wonder and Meatloaf? What are your parents like?”

His question sounded thoughtless, but it was a million miles away from thoughtless. He wanted to get to know me, and he did it by going in slowly. Still, I tensed at the mention of my parents.

“It’s my aunty that loves Meatloaf.” I glanced out the window and hoped that would be an end to it, but of course, Parks pushed the matter.

“And your parents?”

“I’d rather not talk about them.”

“Oh? They’re not deceased, correct?”

I scoffed. “No, not dead. I just don’t like talking about them.”

He paused, trying to get me to talk more, but I gave him nothing. I didn’t want to talk about my parents, so I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Parks about them. Instead, I asked him about himself. A little of me wanted to know about this man I knew nothing about, apart from him being the firm holder of the company I worked at. Oh, and he was rich, intelligent, and owned tons of expensive suits and cars.

“What about your parents?” I watched him carefully for any sign of aggravation or adoration, but Parks stayed inexpressive.

“You want to know about my parents.” It wasn’t a question. It was almost like he thought I had a motive for asking. I’d gotten used to people thinking I was after something if I showed an interest in a person or expressed care or a thought for them, and sometimes it hurt me, though I never admitted that.

“You wanted to know about mine.” I glanced out the window again and watched the cars speed past in the fast lane. I had a feeling he wasn’t being overcautious with his driving but taking his time so he could spend more time with me.

“That’s because I want to know all about you, and you give me nothing. I am infatuated with you, Evelyn Banks.”

“Your infatuation is a hassle.” I didn’t look at him when I said that, but I sensed his smirk, so I looked into my lap and laughed, relaxing a little.

“They live in Beverly Hills. My father, Clinton, is a top celebrity lawyer, and my mother, Harriet, is a retired brain surgeon.” He said it so nonchalantly, I was almost waiting for him to say he was kidding.

“Wow,” I managed when he didn’t. “Well, my uncle’s a plumber.” I laughed at my own joke and got to hear that low chuckle from him again. “So what does your mum do now she’s retired?”

“She has set up a charity called COA
.
Children of Addicts. She’s incredible.” He sensed the wince I made when he stated what COA meant and homed in. “Hey, you all right?”

I shook my head, trying to act casual. “Yeah. Fine. So are you close?”

His eyes dropped a little when I asked, but being as controlled and self-contained as he was, I knew he wasn’t going to elaborate. “So-so.”

He had just said his mother was incredible, but when I asked if he was close to his parents, he couldn’t give me a definitive answer. Maybe there had been a family rift? Whatever the reason, I was sure it wasn’t the same as mine for not opening up about my parents. The Parks family were obviously wealthy, well-educated, respected people, and that only increased my intrigue. “What about your twin?”

His eyes brightened, and he smiled warmly. Okay, he was completely fond of his twin sister. Did I feel a pang of jealousy over a sibling? That would be ridiculous.

“Jasmine is a math genius. At twenty-three I began building my own financial services company and wanted to hire a CEO to take over. Jaz proved to me that she was more than capable of the job, so I allowed her to run it with myself watching from the sidelines. I had no interest in that sort of business. It was only something I knew would make me a lot of money, but it fascinated Jasmine. Now she has built up Parks Financial Services, and our insurance company is one of the largest in the world. Our financial services is the fifth largest. We’re quite an accomplished family.”

I said wow for the second time and instantly felt miniscule. “I bet everyone wants to be in your family.”

“Yes, on the outside it seems extremely indefectible, doesn’t it?” His sigh was deep, and he almost sounded sad, but I didn’t question it because I hated to be questioned myself. That didn’t mean I wanted to know any less, but I tried to lighten the mood then.

“How old are you again?” He hadn’t said, but I asked like he had and acted like I’d just forgotten.

His smiled turned into an amused one; he knew my game. “I haven’t told you, have I? Or didn’t Google give you the answer when you checked?”

I swatted his shoulder playfully. “I did not search how old you were on Google. Just if you had a girlfriend.” I turned my lips up, trying not to laugh, but Parks’s full laughter made me burst out with it.

“You’re crazy, Evelyn.” He chuckled. “But if you really want to know my age, then it’s twenty-nine.”

“That young?” I gasped.

He looked into the car mirror and rubbed at his jaw. “Do I look older?”

“Oh no,” I added quickly. “I mean, everything you’ve accomplished, and you’re only twenty-nine.”

“You have no idea of my accomplishments, do you?” He chuckled again.

I looked down at my lap on an embarrassed giggle. “No. But I know you went to Harvard at eighteen. Clarke told me.”

Still smiling, he nodded slowly. Maybe I would have to Google his accomplishments.

“When’s your birthday?” I asked.

“April 19.”

“So you’re an Aries? That would explain a lot.”

His quick glance towards me was quizzical. “You believe in that stuff?”

“Star signs?” I suddenly felt more alert and talkative. I always did when I talked about something I was passionate about, and the zodiac was one of those things. “Definitely.”

I saw him pondering. “So what does an Aries mean?”

I smiled. “You are the ram. Impulsive, stubborn, hardworking, and don’t get me started on your love life. That alone answers my question to why the fuck you haven’t settled down with a California girl. Ya know, little shorts, bikinis on top.”

He tilted his head back and laughed a full belly laugh, and the inviting sound was conclusively mature and sexy. It instantly brought on my own chuckle.

“What can I say? I have been captivated by a foulmouthed, British beauty with a sexy ponytail, amber eyes so entrancing they remind me of the colour of fall, and delicious curves I desire to worship at any given opportunity.”

“I…” I stumbled across my words because I was overwhelmed with bewilderment about why a man like him would be captivated by someone like me. The phrases he used about me were flattering, yet they never stuck because except for one, none of them were true.

“I agree with foulmouthed and British.”

He gripped the steering wheel in frustration. “I will get to the bottom of why you don’t believe me when I tell you how beautiful you are.”