"I am not here to hear your fake endearment," Drake said staring in the direction of the man, who was none other than his father, Tate.
A middle-aged man as extremely gorgeous as his Drake stood in from of him.
Tate Howard observed his son from head to toe. The lingering smile on his face broadened even more when he realized how much Drake had changed over these years.
"You might never believe me son, but today's visit did make my day," Tate said ignoring his glare and rude words, and offered him to take a seat.
"Come have a seat. I am sure you aren't here without any reason" Tate might not share a good bond with his son, but he wasn't stupid not to realize his purpose for coming here, looking for him after so long.
