Follow Me Under

by HELEN HARDT

  I can almost see her eyes bulging out of her head through the phone.

  “We’ll hit all the outlets, plus Ross and T.J. Maxx.”

  I don’t mean to, but I groan. To Tessa, shopping is an all-day adventure akin to an amusement park. To me? It’s like sitting through a bad movie. With a groping date. And popcorn without enough butter.

  Tessa laughs. “We’ll have fun. Just think of all the great photos you can take for your social media posts.”

  “No company is going to pay me to post about buying cheap clothes.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” She laughs again. “We’ll have fun anyway. And I guarantee you, by the time I’m done with you, you will be ready for New York and beyond.”

  “Great. That still doesn’t help me tonight.”

  “Tonight’s easy. Wear the bustier you bought at the store.”

  Except the bustier no longer exists. But I don’t tell Tessa. It’s too personal.

  “Yeah, I’ll figure something out,” I say.

  “Call me after dinner. I can’t wait to find out what kind of deal they offer you.”

  “Will do.”

  I end the call, walk to my closet, and peruse the garments hanging there.

  This is going to take some doing.

  Chapter Nine

  Heather Thomas is beautiful in a really unique way. She has a Morticia Addams vibe going, but it works for her. She’s dressed all in black leather, even her pants, and though she isn’t as naturally pale as Morticia, her red-black lipstick makes her appear that way.

  She stands when the maître d’ brings me to her table in the back of Union Oyster House. Funny, I haven’t been here since my first dinner date with Braden. It’s one of my favorites.

  Once I see Heather, though, I feel like a child in my navy blue sheath and black pumps. Sure, I look professional, but Heather looks like the goddess of death.

  “Skye!” She pulls me into a hug.

  Okay, she’s a hugger. I can deal with a hugger. But her dark look doesn’t go with the whole hugging thing.

  She pulls back. “My, you do look fabulous. And I have to say, you fill out our bustier like no one I know.”

  First thing she does is compliment my rack. Interesting start to a business meeting.

  “Sit down, please.” She gestures to the chair that the maître d’ is holding out for me. “I just can’t wait to discuss everything with you.”

  “Thank you. I’m looking forward to our discussion as well.” I take the menu from the maître d’. Not that I need it. I know this menu by heart.

  “I adore seafood,” Heather says. “It’s simply fabulous. You said you eat anything, so I hope you adore it as much as I do.”

  “I do. I didn’t get such good seafood growing up.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. I grew up in Kansas, rural Kansas. Meat and corn country.”

  “Really?” She lifts her eyebrows. “You seem so…urban.”

  “I’ve been here since college. I went to BU and never left.”

  “Wonderful. Just fabulous.” She closes her menu. “I’ve been talking to corporate, and we’re very excited to have you come on board, Skye.”

  I force a smile. “Thank you. I appreciate your confidence in me.”

  “I personally think you are the next big influencer on the rise. I’ve gone back through all of your posts, and your photos for Susanne Cosmetics are just fabulous.” Heather unfolds her napkin and places it in her lap.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re so pretty, yet not in an unapproachable way. Do you know what I mean?”

  I think she means I’m not Addison Ames. Which I guess is a good thing, though Addie is beautiful.

  “Sure. I guess.”

  “Believe me, it’s a compliment.” Heather gestures with her hands, her black fingernails waving. “You’ve been on the scene for what? Two weeks at most? And people adore you. Of course, the fact that you’re Braden Black’s girlfriend is icing on the cake.”

  Icing on the cake? The whole reason anyone cares what I have to say is because I’m Braden Black’s girlfriend. Which kind of bugs me, but since I need to make a living, I’ll deal with it.

  “What kind of promotions are you looking for?” I ask.

  “Probably similar to what you’re doing for Susanne. As you may know, Crystal’s Closet has a line of cosmetics, but we don’t want to compete with Susanne. We’re interested in you for other product lines.”

  “Oh? Which ones?”

  “Our clothing, of course. And our”—she raises her eyebrows—“line of sensual products for the bedroom.”

  My cheeks warm. “I’m not exactly sure what you mean.”

  Heather laughs, a chirpy laugh that doesn’t go with her dark look. “Nothing too risqué. Mainly the bustier, as I said on the phone.”

  “I’ll be perfectly honest with you, Heather,” I say. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with—”

  My jaw drops as my heart starts to beat double-time.

  Braden is walking toward us.

  “What is it?” Heather asks.

  “Braden. He’s here.”

  “Fabulous! I’d love to meet him.”

  In seconds, he’s standing next to the table. “Skye,” he says.

  “Hi, Braden. This is Heather Thomas.”

  Heather holds out her hand, still sitting. “It is fabulous to meet you, Mr. Black.”

  Braden takes her hand. “Nice to meet you as well. I hope you don’t mind, but I need to steal Skye away from you for a few minutes.”

  “Of course not. Would you care to join us?”

  “Thank you. I would love that. But first I need to talk to Skye alone.”

  Heather gives Braden a dazzling smile. Rather, what would be a dazzling smile except for her nearly black lipstick, which makes it kind of menacing. “Absolutely. Take all the time you need. I’m going to order a cocktail. Skye, would you like anything?”

  “We’ll both have a Wild Turkey, neat,” Braden offers.

  “Fabulous. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Skye?” Braden meets my gaze, his blue eyes burning.

  “All right.” I stand. “Excuse me, Heather. We won’t be long.”

  She nods, and I follow Braden out of the restaurant.

  “What’s going on?” he says.

  I fidget a little with my hands. “Well, it’s called dinner, Braden.”

  He’s not amused. “You know what I mean.”

  “You and I didn’t have dinner plans, so when Heather asked me to join her, I said yes.”

  “Christopher told you I would be home this afternoon.”

  “He did, but at the risk of repeating myself, you and I did not make any dinner plans.”

  “You told Christopher you’d call me later.”

  “I did. I called you to thank you for the earrings—I love them, by the way—and you didn’t call me back.”

  His gaze burns me. “You’re playing a game with me again, Skye.”

  Games? He really wants to go there? “Seriously? A game? I called you, Braden. You didn’t return the call. And what about the game you played with me last night? Keeping me from talking?”

  “That wasn’t a game.”

  “No. It was a test.” I cross my arms over my chest.

  “Skye—”

  “A test, Braden. That’s exactly what it was. And I passed.”

  The tiniest beginning of a smile twitches at the corners of his lips. “You did.”

  I can’t help a self-satisfied smile.

  “And now you’re paying me back.”

  I shake my head. “You’re wrong.”

  A husky chuckle emerges from his throat. “I’m not wrong. You knew very well I wanted to have dinner with you tonight.�
�

  “How am I supposed to know that?”

  “Christopher told you I’d be home this afternoon.”

  “Yes. Christopher told me. You didn’t tell me anything, Braden. I didn’t even know you went to L.A. until Christopher told me.”

  “Christopher only tells you what I tell him to tell you.”

  “And because Christopher deigns to tell me that you’ll be home this afternoon, I’m supposed to assume you want to have dinner with me?”

  “Don’t turn this into an argument over semantics,” he says. “You knew very well I wanted to have dinner with you tonight, and that’s why you accepted Ms. Thomas’s invitation.”

  “I accepted her invitation because she has work for me.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. She has work, and I need work. I’m unemployed, remember?”

  “You misunderstood me. What I mean is, no, you will not be working for Crystal’s Closet.”

  “And just why not?”

  “Because…what you and I do in the bedroom is our own business.”

  My jaw drops. “Braden, I would never—”

  “Why do you think I cut that damned bustier off you last night?”

  “Because you like ripping clothes off me. You’ve made that clear.”

  Again, the insistent smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, but he keeps it at bay. “I won’t deny that, but there were easier ways of getting a leather bustier off you than cutting it with scissors.”

  “So?”

  “So…I was making sure you wouldn’t take another photograph of yourself wearing it.”

  So he had seen the post. Interesting that he didn’t mention it.

  “Why? Everything was covered, and I looked good. Heather says they sold out of bustiers after that post.”

  He scoffs. “I’m sure they did. You will not post any more photographs wearing a bustier.”

  “How about a thong?” I say sarcastically.

  A dark growl hums from his chest. Uh-oh. I’ve woken the beast. My stomach tumbles into knots. Dark Braden. The Braden who makes me want things I never considered before. Like right now, I’d like him to fuck me here, right on the sidewalk in front of Union Oyster House.

  “Your body is for my eyes only.” He glares at me.

  I squeeze my thighs together to quell my desire. “I need the work.”

  He softens then, cupping my cheek and pushing my hair behind my ear. “I knew you’d look gorgeous in those rubies.”

  I sigh softly. I can’t help it. I can be indignant one minute, and then, with one touch from him, I’m melting like drawn butter.

  “How much are they offering you?”

  “I don’t know yet. You interrupted our conversation.”

  “Very well.” He takes my hand. “Let’s go back and see what Ms. Thomas has to offer.”

  Chapter Ten

  Heather stands when we arrive at the table. “I took the liberty of having a place setting added for you, Mr. Black.”

  “Please call me Braden.”

  “Oh, fabulous. And I’m Heather.”

  Braden nods. “Please sit down.”

  Heather sits, and Braden pushes her chair in for her. He does the same for me. Always the gentleman—or the illusion of being a gentleman, anyway. It wasn’t overly gentlemanly to drag me away from my business meeting.

  “Our drinks will be here any minute,” Heather says.

  Thank God. But I don’t say it.

  “Heather,” Braden says, “I understand you’re interested in contracting Skye for some social media posts.”

  “Yes, definitely. We’re very excited about getting Skye on board.”

  “Very good.” He clears his throat. “What are you prepared to offer her?”

  I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Braden has effectively taken over my negotiation, and I’m letting him. I don’t want to let him, but I honestly don’t know what to do. To argue with him in front of Heather will make me look unprofessional and childish. But to let him take control will make me look like I have no say over my own career.

  Rock, meet hard place.

  “We’re not as big a company as Susanne Cosmetics,” Heather says, “but I’ve been authorized to begin with a series of three posts for a payment of two thousand dollars.”

  “That’s a good start,” Braden says. “What products are you looking to promote?”

  “I already told Skye that we’re interested in having her model some of our garments as well as selected products from our intimate toy line.”

  “I see. So you’re asking Skye to pose in her underwear wearing handcuffs?”

  I can’t help myself. I have to chime in here. “Braden!”

  “We all know what kind of garments Crystal’s sells,” Braden says. “We also know what kind of toys they sell.”

  “Braden,” Heather intervenes, “I assure you that everything will be done very tastefully.”

  “I’m sure it will, since Skye will be in charge of the photography.”

  “Actually…corporate would like us to bring in a professional photographer.”

  “Skye is a professional photographer.”

  “Yes, I’m sure she is, but you see, we’re not looking for selfies so much as professional images.”

  “I’m an Instagram influencer,” I say. “I take my own pictures. Photography is what got me into this business. I assure you I’m very capable of taking more than just selfies.” Damn. Why hadn’t I brought my portfolio?

  “With all due respect, Skye,” Heather says, “everyone here at this table knows how you got into this business.”

  So Morticia has a non-hugging side after all. “What exactly are you implying?” I ask adamantly, though I already know exactly what she’s implying.

  “You’re a beautiful woman, and you know the business because you worked for Addison Ames. Now you’re dating Boston’s most eligible bachelor. Do you think anyone would care what you have to say if you weren’t Braden Black’s girlfriend?”

  Ten bricks in the gut this time. I’m shocked at her audacious words. If she’s trying to get me to do business with her, this isn’t the way to accomplish it.

  So much for her “icing on the cake” comment. I knew it was bullshit.

  I want to call her out. The only problem?

  Her words ring true. Absolutely true. And I know it. The only reason anyone is interested in what I have to say is because of the man sitting at this table. I try to forget the fact, but it’s always there, almost taunting me. You’re a fraud.

  “I assure you,” Braden says, “Skye is an intelligent woman and knows what she’s doing. She will be successful at any endeavor, with me or without me.”

  I’m not surprised that Braden leaped to my defense. He may even believe his words.

  But Heather is right, ultimately.

  We all know it.

  “Honestly,” Heather says, now smiling, “the why doesn’t matter. We want to work with you, Skye.”

  “Then I take my own photographs.”

  “And she doesn’t pose with any toys or in any undergarments,” Braden adds, “including bustiers and corsets.”

  I’m not thrilled with Braden jumping in to my negotiation, but I say nothing because I agree with him. I’m not going to be an underwear model or a BDSM model. No fucking way.

  “I can agree to the undergarment restriction,” Heather says, “but corporate was very clear that they want the toys to be a part of the posts.”

  “Then I’m sorry,” I say. “I agree with Braden. I’m happy to pose in your clothing line and post about it, but I can’t post pictures of myself using your toys.”

  “Let me be clear,” Heather says. “You don’t need to be using the toys. I’m not asking you to do anything X-rated. Just holding up a toy and saying
a few words about it.”

  “No,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll check with corporate, then, and I’ll let them know your terms.” She glances at her phone. “Goodness, I have to run. I’m so sorry to cut our meeting short. This should cover your dinner.” She lays several fifty dollar bills on the table.

  Braden picks them up and hands them back to her. “Please keep your money.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it.”

  “I insist.” Braden shoves the bills into her hand.

  “All right, if you insist. Have a fabulous dinner.” She rises hastily, her napkin drifting to the floor.

  Fabulous dinner? We haven’t even ordered yet.

  Once Heather is out of earshot, I meet Braden’s gaze. “We need to chat.”

  He peruses his menu. “About what?”

  “About this. About you sticking your nose into my business.”

  “Skye, when it comes to you posing half-naked holding up leather whips, that is definitely my business. Besides, they weren’t going to let you take your own pictures.”

  “And I was going to negotiate that.”

  “They’re paying less than Susanne.”

  “They’re a smaller company than Susanne. I’m new at this. I need to take what I can get.”

  “She let her claws show, Skye.”

  I can’t deny his words. When Heather felt forced in a corner, she made it known what she truly thought of me. Problem is, she’s right. Both Braden and I know it. I just don’t feel like rehashing it at the moment. The waiter comes and takes our order. Braden orders a dozen oysters on the half shell, and I can’t help a smile.

  “Any other news, Skye?”

  “No. I’m pretty sure I just kissed the Crystal’s Closet contract goodbye.”

  “You’re better off not being associated with a company that sells sexy undergarments and bedroom toys.” He clears his throat. “Are you sure there isn’t any other news?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No…impending trips, maybe?”

  Shit. The New York trip early next week. How does he even know about that?

  “You want to explain how you even know about that trip? Have you hacked into my emails or my phone?”

  “Of course not. That would be a violation of the trust between us. Do you want to explain why you haven’t told me about the trip?”