Follow Me Under

by HELEN HARDT

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Thank God. My whole body is aching for a climax. It’s been so long.

  Braden eyes me lasciviously. I warm all over, my nipples snapping back to attention and my pussy throbbing mercilessly.

  Until his phone buzzes on the night table. He widens his eyes.

  Ignore it. Please ignore it.

  But he doesn’t. Braden doesn’t ignore his phone. It’s nearly midnight on a Saturday night. Who’s calling him? It can’t be business, can it? At this hour on the weekend?

  Except that Braden has deals and contracts all over the globe. Though his company started with construction equipment, which is still its backbone, Black, Inc. now invests in real estate, foreign currency, futures, and probably lots of stuff I don’t know about.

  Which is why he’ll never ignore his phone, no matter the hour.

  He moves from between my legs, and I hold back a whimper at the loss.

  “Black,” he says into his phone.

  Then he’s all business. Even his erection falters as he stands there naked. My eyes have adjusted to the dark after he removed the blindfold, and I watch him.

  His demeanor is pure professionalism, and if I couldn’t see his majestic body, I’d swear he was standing in a three-piece suit, tie adjusted just so.

  He may as well be.

  And I know I can kiss my orgasm goodbye.

  After what seems like hours, he ends the call.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask.

  “I have to go to New York,” he says.

  “We’re leaving tomorrow,” I reply.

  He walks toward his closet. “No. We’re leaving tonight.”

  I gasp. “Tonight? You mean right now?”

  “Yes. Right now.”

  “I… I can’t. What about…”

  He turns and meets my gaze. “What about what, Skye? We were going to leave tomorrow afternoon anyway. Do you have some kind of plan for your Sunday morning that I don’t know about?”

  “The dogs. What about the dogs?”

  “Who do you think takes care of the dogs all day when I’m not here?”

  Laughable statement. What am I thinking?

  I’m thinking I want that damned orgasm.

  “What’s wrong, Braden?”

  “A key negotiation fell through.”

  “At midnight?”

  “In China. I need to do damage control.”

  “Can’t you do it from here?”

  “If I could, do you think I’d be flying to New York in the middle of the night?”

  Good point. “What about Ben or your dad?”

  “I run this company, Skye. You know that.”

  “Can’t you delegate? Your father and Ben are perfectly capable of—”

  “You’ve met my father and Ben once. You know nothing about them other than what you gleaned from one evening with them. Please don’t presume to tell me how to run my company. You’re a photographer, Skye. You don’t know the first thing about my business.”

  My mouth drops open. Maintain control, Skye. But I can’t. I begin to lose it. I feel the dreaded tears welling in the bottom of my eyes.

  No. Just fucking no.

  “Don’t insult my intelligence,” I say.

  “I’m not insulting anything.”

  “The hell you’re not.”

  He meets my gaze, his own cold. So cold. “This is business. My business. I’m not insulting you when I tell you that you don’t know anything about it. I’m simply being truthful.”

  “But I don’t understand—”

  “That’s right. You don’t understand. This is something I need to take care of, and yes, I need to take care of it now. Now get out of bed and get dressed. We’re leaving as soon as you’re ready.”

  “If you’d just explain—”

  “For God’s sake, I don’t have time to explain. You’re not hearing me, Skye. You asked me earlier why I made you concentrate on one sense. For someone who just learned to hear this evening, you’re not hearing me now.”

  My mouth drops open once more.

  This is my life now? Braden tells me to do something, and I’m supposed to just do it? On blind faith?

  “Your control over me in the bedroom doesn’t extend to—”

  “Damn it!” He scoops me off the bed and forces me to stand. “Hear me, Skye. We’re leaving. We’re leaving now.”

  And it dawns on me.

  I don’t have a choice. Braden canceled the plane ticket that Eugenie booked for me. My only way to get to New York to make my meeting on Monday is his private jet. Either that or fly standby, and I can’t take the chance of not getting a flight. I could take a train, but I don’t have a ticket. They might be sold out at this late date. Besides, I hate trains. I could drive, but I’d have to rent a car since I don’t own one. This meeting is too important. His jet can’t fly me to New York tomorrow if it’s already in New York.

  Checkmate. He wins.

  I leave tonight.

  I nod with resignation, pick up my clothes—luckily, he didn’t destroy any of them tonight—and leave his bedroom silently. I walk naked to the stairway, not caring if Christopher or anyone else sees me, and head into my personal bedroom. I walk to the bathroom.

  My reflection greets me in the mirror.

  My makeup is smeared, and my hair is a tangled mess. Definitely a just-fucked look.

  But something else catches my eye.

  A look of defeat.

  This is ridiculous, Skye. You’re not defeated. It’s business, and he can’t help it. He needs to take care of business. You’d do the same. You haven’t lost control. This is just business, and if you want to get to New York for your meeting, you have to go with him now.

  All true. All very true.

  Why is ceding control so difficult for me?

  Is this another one of Braden’s tests?

  I shake my head at myself in the mirror. No. He’s not that manipulative. Is he? Who in his right mind would stage a crisis where he had to leave for New York in the middle of the night?

  No one.

  Not even Braden Black.

  Except I’m not sure. Braden gets what he wants, and what he wants is my control. Not just in the bedroom.

  I can refuse to go, but that’s cutting off my nose to spite my face. I need to get to New York, and this is the one sure way. Otherwise it’s the bus or train because I can’t depend on getting a flight on standby.

  I sigh. Time to get ready. Because if I don’t, I have no doubt Braden will come knocking on my door, making more demands of me.

  I hastily cleanse my face of the smeared makeup, wash all other necessary parts, and dress in the clothes I wore to dinner earlier. I pull my hair into a high ponytail and then leave the room. My jacket and purse are still in Braden’s bedroom.

  I walk—not overly slowly but not overly quickly, either—down the stairs.

  Braden stands by the elevator, holding my purse and jacket. He hands them to me. “Let’s go. Christopher’s waiting downstairs.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  If I didn’t know I was on a private jet, I’d be certain I was in a luxury apartment. Granted, a very narrow luxury apartment, but a luxury apartment nonetheless.

  A bed. This jet has a bed. A flight to New York doesn’t take long, so I doubt we’ll use it, but there it sits. Perfectly made up, ready to be messed up. I chuckle to myself. Will Braden and I be joining the mile high club?

  How many other women have joined the mile high club courtesy of this bed?

  I erase that thought from my mind. This trip already makes me nervous. I don’t need to think about all the other women Braden has bedded in this jet.

  “Welcome aboard, Mr. Black.” A blond flight attendant smiles. “And you too, Ms. Man
ning.”

  Braden nods. “Thank you, Robin.”

  I simply smile slightly and follow Braden on board. He leads me to two wide leather seats that make first class on any other airline look like steerage.

  He gestures to me, and I take the seat closer to the window. He sits next to me.

  “I have a great crew,” he says. “They see to every need.”

  “Is the pilot blond, too?” I can’t help asking.

  “The pilot is a fifty-five-year-old male veteran,” he says matter-of-factly. “Do you want something to drink?”

  “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “It is. That doesn’t mean you can’t be thirsty.”

  He’s right, of course. And I am a little thirsty. “Just some water.”

  He gestures to Robin, who stands next to another flight attendant, this one raven-haired with searing dark eyes. “Two bottles of water.”

  “Coming right up.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Something wrong?” Braden asks.

  “How can they be so chipper at one in the morning?”

  “They’re paid very well to be on call at all hours.”

  I can imagine. I don’t say it, though. Robin brings me a water, and I thank her and take a long sip.

  “It’s a short flight,” Braden says, “but once we’re at cruising altitude, you can lie down. Robin and Dani will see to your needs. Try to get some sleep.”

  “Maybe,” I reply.

  He takes my hand and rubs his thumb into my palm. “Skye, this isn’t how I planned to spend this night, either.”

  “I understand.”

  My words aren’t lies. I do understand. I even understand why I needed to come along.

  “I didn’t have time to pack anything,” I say.

  “You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll get you anything you need for your meeting on Monday.”

  “But the new camera. It’s still at my place, and I wanted to bring it, to take photos of the city.”

  “This won’t be our only trip to New York,” he says.

  I nod. He’s right, and part of me jumps inside at the thought of many more trips with Braden. As far as my wardrobe goes? Surely I’ll be dressed to the nines for my meeting. Better than I’d be if I wore my own wardrobe.

  Another loss of control.

  My control is rapidly becoming an illusion.

  Like my reflection in the mirror, it’s only a two-dimensional image of what I really am.

  Perhaps it’s time. Time to truly let go.

  I scoff softly. I’m not thinking straight. It’s the middle of the night, after all.

  Still…I can’t deny that the idea isn’t quite as disturbing as it once was.

  I’ve been obsessing about what I might lose, but what might I gain?

  Braden sits next to me, his attention buried in his laptop. All business, Braden Black. And it dawns on me.

  Braden runs his life like he runs his business. Everything under his control at all times.

  Even me.

  That’s what he ultimately wants, and if I don’t give it to him, he can easily find someone who will.

  He’s not his father. He won’t settle for an opportunistic student who uses him as a ladder. No, Braden wants a challenge. He views his whole life as a challenge, and he thrives on it.

  You are a challenge, Skye.

  How many times has he said those words?

  Braden is the kind of person who rises to every challenge and then defeats each one.

  Is that how he sees me? As just another business deal? A challenging business deal, to be sure, but still just a business deal?

  Does he simply enjoy the chase? If I give him all he asks for, will he grow bored? Find another challenge?

  No. He thrives on winning. He thrives on overcoming every challenge and building his business. Can it even be called a business at this point? Or is it now an empire?

  And if it’s an empire, he’s no longer a CEO. He’s a fucking king.

  Am I just one more business deal to negotiate until he gets what he wants? One more alliance to form?

  Braden Black always gets what he wants.

  Even in the middle of the fucking night, Braden gets what he wants. Even if it’s just me on his private jet.

  I turn to him. “Braden?”

  He doesn’t look away from his computer. “Yes?”

  “Tell me what’s going on with the deal.”

  “You wouldn’t be interested.”

  “I wouldn’t be asking if I weren’t interested.”

  “You’re an artist, Skye.”

  “Yes. I’m an artist—an artist who’s trying to start her own business. Of course I’m interested in what you do.”

  “I don’t have time.”

  “We have an hour in the air.”

  He sighs. “And you can see I’m online, dealing with this.”

  “You don’t have two minutes to explain to me what’s going on?”

  “I couldn’t even begin to explain this in two minutes. It’s a complicated contract negotiation with three different distributors in China and Japan. If I can’t work this out in the next twelve hours, I will probably be en route to China. I’d like to avoid that if possible.”

  “Why? Don’t you want to see China?”

  “Seeing China isn’t the issue. I like to be on my home turf. It’s like having the home-field advantage.”

  The home-field advantage. Another means of control.

  “That makes sense. I understand.”

  He looks at me then. Meets my gaze and truly looks at me. “Thank you, Skye.”

  “For what?”

  “For hearing me. For finally hearing me.”

  And in that split second, I get him.

  I get Braden Black.

  He’s a master of control in all aspects of his life. He’s demanding and precise, but he’s also loving and romantic. But beyond all that, he’s a person just like I am—a person who wants to be heard.

  He’s Braden, and he loves me.

  I want to please him.

  And my fear of losing control lessens.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Which hotel are we staying at?” I ask, too tired to appreciate the luxury of the limousine carrying us from the airport. Secretly, I hope it’s not an Ames Hotel.

  “We’re staying in my Manhattan penthouse,” Braden says.

  “You have a Manhattan penthouse?”

  “Does that surprise you?”

  It does, though it shouldn’t. The man has billions. He has a private jet with a pilot and crew on call, for God’s sake. A Manhattan penthouse costs a heck of a lot less than that.

  “Manhattan is my home away from home,” he says. “There are things I do here that I don’t do in Boston.”

  “What kind of business can’t be done in Boston?”

  “I’m not necessarily talking about business, Skye.”

  I suppress a jerk but cock my head. Do I want to know what he’s talking about? I’m not sure.

  Except I am sure. I want to know everything about Braden, and he’s such a closed book on some things—not just the Addison Ames situation. Can I possibly uncover his secrets here in New York?

  Finally, I speak. “What are you talking about, then?”

  “I’m not sure you’re ready,” he says.

  My skin tightens around me. “Ready for what?”

  “The situation with this contract has…muddled things a bit for me personally.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Braden?”

  “There are things I do in New York that I don’t do in Boston. Things I’d like to share with you. When you’re ready.”

  “Maybe I’m ready.”

  He
shakes his head. “You’re not.”

  “How do you know if you don’t tell me what you’re talking about? And why do you only do these things in New York?”

  “Boston is my home. Where I grew up. Where my father lives. I keep certain aspects of my lifestyle out of Boston.”

  “If this is about what you like in the bedroom, Braden, I already know all about that.”

  He shakes his head. “Oh, Skye… You don’t even know what you don’t know.”

  I glance through the tempered glass at the back of the chauffeur’s head. Can he hear us? Probably not. I hope not.

  “I know there’s more. I remember that suspension thing hanging from your ceiling.”

  “I no longer indulge in that kind of play. I’ve told you.”

  “What if I’m interested in suspension?” I’m not, but what if?

  “It’s not a hard limit for me. If you’re truly interested, we can look into it. But not without proper and well-built equipment.”

  “Hold on. What do you mean it’s not a hard limit for you?”

  “A hard limit is something I won’t do, no matter what.”

  “Oh? What are your hard limits?”

  “I only have one.”

  I lift my eyebrows. “What is it?”

  “I don’t talk about it.”

  “Don’t you think I should know? So I don’t bring it up?”

  “Trust me, Skye. You will never bring it up.”

  Curiosity whirls through me. What is the one thing Braden won’t do in the bedroom? I have to know. Just like I have to know what went on between him and Addie. Can the two possibly be related?

  “Why haven’t we talked about hard limits before now?” I ask.

  “Because you weren’t ready. But this contract…”

  “Changes everything. So you’ve said. What I don’t understand is why.”

  “I wasn’t planning to bring you to my penthouse quite so soon.”

  “Then don’t. Book us a suite somewhere. How about the Waldorf-Astoria?”

  “I need to be in my penthouse. That’s where I conduct my international business.”

  “Not in an office?”

  “Black, Inc. has offices in Manhattan, but this negotiation is special.”

  “Too special to deal with in an office?”