by HELEN HARDT
But what is this amount?
I’m new, and I only have a fraction of Addie’s followers. I can’t demand six figures. What’s reasonable? Fifteen thousand? Twenty? Fifty?
How I wish Braden were here to advise me.
“Skye?” Eugenie says.
“I’m here. Just thinking. I truly appreciate the offer.”
“Of course. Take your time. Would you like to call me back later?”
Call her back? And give her time to rethink giving five K to a nobody? No way. I clear my throat. “I appreciate your faith in me and my following.” I echo the words I’ve heard Addie say to clients so many times. “But I’m afraid I can’t do what you’re asking for less than fifteen thousand.”
Silence for a few seconds. Damn. I’ve blown it.
Then, “You drive a hard bargain, Skye. We can offer ten, but I’m afraid I can’t go any higher without the VP of marketing’s okay. If you’re willing to wait, I can check with her.”
Now what?
Maintain control, Skye. You heeded Braden’s advice. You got her to go higher.
I can take the ten thou, or I can take the chance that the VP of marketing will up it to fifteen. She may say yes. She may say no. There’s also a third option. She may very well tell Eugenie that I’m asking way too much as a newbie and not to bother with me anymore.
I can’t take that chance. Not yet, anyway.
“That’s very generous of you,” I say. “I’m happy to do the posts for ten.”
“Wonderful. I’ll email the contract to you. We’re thrilled to be working with you.”
“I’m thrilled as well. Thanks so much for the opportunity.”
“You’re very welcome, Skye. We’ll be in touch.”
I end the call and lean back in my chair.
My heart is still pounding, but I feel good. Darn good. I got twice the original offer.
I can’t wait to tell Braden.
Fifteen minutes later, the contract lands in my inbox.
Addison has one of the hotel attorneys review all her contracts, but unfortunately, I don’t have that option. I can call an attorney and pay for the services out of the $10K I’ll be getting, but who do I call? How do I know who’s good?
I sigh.
I know the answer.
Braden. Braden has access to the best attorneys in town. He can tell me who to hire.
Why is my belly fluttering? I’ve never phoned him before, but I showed up at his place unannounced last night. A phone call is nothing. I hastily search the number and call.
“Black, Inc.”
“Braden Black, please.”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“Skye Manning.”
“Just a moment.”
Then, “Good morning, Skye.”
My thighs quiver at the sound of his voice. “Hi, Braden. I’m sorry to bother you at work, but I got the contract with Susanne Cosmetics, and I was wondering if you knew a good, reasonably priced lawyer who could review it for me.”
“Email it to me. I’ll review it.”
“But you’re not—”
“An attorney? True, but I’ve reviewed my share of contracts. I also have four attorneys here in the office who can help me with the legalese if necessary.”
“Braden, I didn’t call you to give you work. I’m perfectly willing to pay an attorney.”
“I have the best attorneys here at corporate.”
“None of which I can afford, I’m sure.”
“Did I say you had to pay?”
“No, but—”
“Forward it to me. I’ll be in touch. Goodbye.”
That’s it? Classic Braden.
It’s almost noon. I print the contract and then phone Tessa quickly to cancel our lunch date. Luckily I get her voicemail. I’ll spill everything to her eventually, but at the moment I need to hurry. Braden may not be in his office for long.
He wants me to forward the contract? I’ll forward it.
Personally.
Chapter Forty-Four
Everyone in Boston is familiar with the Black Building, but very few have been inside, including me. That’s about to change.
I stand outside the silver skyscraper. It wasn’t always the Black Building. Black, Inc. bought it five years ago when the company went public. A new building is in the works—the building that Peter Reardon and his father want to design but apparently won’t. For now, Black, Inc. is housed here.
I enter the vast lobby. I walk through a metal detector while an armed guard peruses the contents of my purse. Then I head to the reception desk where I sign in and receive a visitor badge.
“Who are you here to see?” one of the receptionists asks me.
“Braden Black.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No. I’m his…girlfriend.”
The young woman’s eyebrows nearly shoot off her forehead at the word “girlfriend.” Then, “So you’re the one.”
“Apparently,” I say.
“I should give him a quick call.”
“If you’d like.”
She pauses a moment, looking me over. Finally, she says, “Go ahead up. Thirtieth floor. I’ll let the receptionist up there deal with you.”
I’m not sure what to make of her words. I head to the elevator and press the requisite button. I’m transported to the thirtieth floor so quickly that my feet feel like they’re buried inside the floor.
I draw in a breath and exit the elevator.
Sure enough, another receptionist—this one black-haired and gorgeous—sits right outside.
She looks up as the elevator doors close. “May I help you?”
I clear my throat. “I’m Skye Manning, and I’m here to see Braden Black.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No.” I hold her gaze with as much bravado as I can muster, even though my knees are shaking a bit.
“I see. His lunch was just delivered. Let me see if he’s okay being disturbed.”
I nod.
“Mr. Black,” she says into her headset. “Skye Manning is here to see you.” Pause. “All right, thank you.” She locks her gaze on mine. “Go ahead back. Take a right and keep going. It’s the corner office.”
“Thank you.” I force my feet to move as if I know what I’m doing. The hallway is long and narrow and seems longer and narrower the closer I get to Braden’s office.
Until I’m facing his office, and his closed door nearly smacks me in the face.
I knock more forcefully than I feel.
“Come in.”
I open the door.
The office is huge, with glass windows overlooking the city, much like his bedroom overlooks the bay. Braden sits behind a dark cherry desk, a gourmet feast spread out before him.
“Skye,” he says simply.
“I brought the contract.” I pull it out of my purse. “I thought maybe we could look at it together.”
“That couldn’t have waited until tonight?”
“We didn’t make any plans, and I thought—”
“You’d interrupt me at work?”
“You’re not working. You’re eating.”
“I’m always working, Skye. Close the door, please.”
I shut it quietly, walk forward, and hand him the contract.
“Leave it on the desk. Have you eaten?”
I set the document on the corner of his massive desk. “No.”
“Would you like half of mine?”
“No, that’s okay.”
“So you want to sit here and watch me eat?”
“Well…I guess.”
He stands, gathers his containers of food, and moves them to the table across the room. He walks back to his desk and pushes a button
on his phone. “Claire, could you bring in another plate, please?”
A few seconds later, someone—Claire, presumably—knocks at the door.
“Come in,” Braden says.
The door opens, and in walks a woman, blond and blue-eyed and wearing a skin-tight navy sheath. She sets the plate she carries on the table.
“Thanks, Claire.”
She nods and leaves the office, closing the door behind her.
“Sit down and help yourself. They always deliver enough for two or more people.”
“I didn’t come here to—”
“Eat, Skye. You’ll need energy for what I have planned for you this afternoon.”
“I—”
“You barge into my office with a contract you could have easily emailed me, looking sexy with your red lips parted. You think I’m not going to fuck you after that?”
“I… I didn’t mean—”
“You promised me your control, Skye, yet you hold on to it in any way you can. Don’t think I don’t know why you showed up here. It was in complete defiance. I told you to email the contract, so you did what you do. You got around my instructions.”
“You told me to forward the contract, Braden. You didn’t say to email it. So I forwarded it. In person.”
“You knew exactly what I meant.”
I don’t bother arguing the point. He and I both know he’s right. “So I got around your instructions. Just like how last night, you got around our agreement never to kick me out of your place. You said I was welcome to stay, but you made it very clear you were done with me for the evening.”
His lips tremble. Does he think this is funny? My neck burns with the anger creeping up on me. I wait for him to acknowledge my point, but he doesn’t.
“I never promised to give up my control outside the bedroom, Braden.”
“That’s true,” he says, “but you’re forgetting one very important detail.”
I whip my hands to my hips. “What’s that?”
“Any place can be a bedroom.”
Chapter Forty-Five
My legs tremble. I don’t for a second doubt that Braden is sincere. After all, he fucked me in the kitchen last night where Christopher or Annika could have walked in anytime. Already my core is on fire.
Then a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Braden says.
In walks Claire, her long blond hair flipped all over one shoulder. “The Babbler just came out online. I’ve ordered copies but figured you’d want to see this now, so I printed it. Let me know how you want to handle it.” She hands him a paper and then leaves, closing the door.
Braden scans the paper. He sighs and hands it to me, saying nothing.
I gape at the headline.
Braden Black Dating Kansas Native and Budding Influencer
Budding influencer? I only got the offer from Susanne Cosmetics today. Kay Brown works quickly.
I blink a few times, hoping the headline will disappear. “What the heck?”
“Did you think this would stay quiet for long?” Braden asks.
“But I didn’t tell her anything.”
“Do you think that matters?”
“Why do you keep asking me questions?”
“Let me put it to you this way. Neither of us said a thing. We didn’t have to. Read the article.”
I glance down.
Boston’s own billionaire Braden Black of Black, Inc. was seen nuzzling—
“Nuzzling?” I say, perplexed.
“To lean against,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “I know what it means, Braden. Jesus. We weren’t nuzzling.”
“Just read,” he says.
Boston’s own billionaire Braden Black of Black, Inc. was seen nuzzling a new love interest at the recent MADD charity event. She is Skye Manning, a self-professed farm girl and aspiring photographer who works for mega-influencer Addison Ames. “She’s smitten,” a source close to Manning says. “I’ve never seen her so infatuated.”
Yeah, I’m going to be sick.
Black, known for his womanizing ways, hasn’t dated anyone seriously since his short relationship with model Aretha Doyle ended last year. “I wish him all the best,” says Doyle. “He and I remain close friends.”
They do? First I’ve heard. Then again, since no source I know would say I’m smitten, this is probably another lie.
Black and Manning met at Ames’s office recently and have been inseparable since. They’ve dined together in public several times and Black will escort her to the Boston Opera Guild Gala this Saturday evening at the Ames Hotel Downtown.
Aspiring photographer Manning is reportedly thrilled by the attention. Several of Ames’s clients have reached out to her personally asking for Instagram posts. As she’s familiar with the business, she’s poised to become the next sweetheart of Instagram. “She’s over the moon,” the source says. “Not only is she on the arm of Braden Black, but she’s getting the attention she craves for her work.”
Black’s office had no comment.
I gulp. “Braden, I never said any of this.”
“I know.”
“And I have no idea who this purported source is.”
He nods.
“How can they lie like that?”
“Easy,” he says. “They found a ‘source’ who’s borderline credible and got him or her to say what they want. Happens to me all the time.”
“Not this time. You had no comment. It makes me look like I’m chasing you.”
His lips quirk. “And you’re not?”
“Braden! I’m being serious. I’ve had one call from Susanne Cosmetics, not several calls. This isn’t right. And how do they know we’re going to the opera gala?”
He chuckles. “Do you really think I announce where I’m going and who I’m going with?”
“Someone knows. Christopher? Annika?”
“I trust my staff implicitly.”
“Then who?”
“A source, most likely.”
I look around nervously. Is this office bugged? Is there a hidden camera? Braden wouldn’t film me without my knowledge. Would he?
“You’re getting carried away,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
“I know what you’re thinking. The same thing I thought the first time this happened to me. You’re wondering who’s watching you. Who’s listening to you. Who among your circle of friends could have sold you out. The answer? No one.”
“Then how—”
“I already told you. They find a source who doesn’t want to be named. Surely you’ve read tabloids before.”
“Actually, I haven’t,” I say.
“Do yourself a favor, then. Don’t ever start reading them. It will slowly invade your mind, and it’s not worth it. No one gives the Babbler any credence.”
“Then why did Claire bring it straight to you?”
“I have to keep up with what the rags are saying about me. Doesn’t mean I give it any value whatsoever.”
“Then why—”
“If anything is said that could affect business, I have to be aware and file the necessary defamation lawsuits.”
“Well, I want to know who this source is.”
“Journalists don’t have to reveal their sources.”
“This isn’t journalism, Braden. It’s gossip. Fabricated gossip.”
“Potato, po-tah-to, as far as the courts are concerned. Besides, look at the facts. We are dating. We did sit together at the MADD event. We are going to the Opera Guild Gala. And we’ve pretty much been inseparable since we met.”
“Except they make me sound like a lovesick schoolgirl who’s after Addie’s job. She’s going to have a field day with this.”
“Maybe she won’t see it,” he says.
&n
bsp; I laugh. Seriously laugh, because what Braden just said is funny in a ridiculous way. “Addie won’t see it? The woman thrives on attention. She googles her name all the time. How will she not see it?”
He doesn’t reply.
“I’m nothing like Addison,” I say indignantly.
“If you were anything like Addison, do you think I’d have the slightest interest in you?”
“Honestly? I don’t know, Braden, because you won’t tell me what happened between you two.”
“Skye, you do try my patience.” He stands, pulls me out of my chair, and into his body.
I part my lips.
“Fuck, you’re so sexy.” He kisses me. Hard.
In an instant, I forget about the Babbler, about the source, about Addie and Braden and whatever happened all those years ago.
I know only his lips sliding against mine, his tongue probing between them, his vibrating groan humming into me. My nipples are hard and taut, aching to be freed from their confinement. His erection pushes into my belly.
I want him.
Here, in his office, I want him.
He breaks the kiss and inhales deeply. “God, what you do to me.” He whips his tie off his neck and fingers the fabric.
I gasp sharply.
“Silk isn’t the best for binding,” he says. “The knots are sometimes too tight, which can be a problem if I need to untie you quickly.”
I lift my eyebrows, my heart pounding. Binding? Me? In his office?
“However, it’s all I have at the moment.” He unbuttons his shirt and removes it. He stands in a white tank.
And God, is he sexy.
I have no idea what he has in mind. I know only one thing.
Whatever it is, I’ll do it.
Chapter Forty-Six
“Take off your clothes, Skye.”
I eye the door.
“No, it’s not locked,” Braden says.
I part my lips, my whole body tingling.
“No one will interrupt us. They know the penalty for entering without knocking.”
Arousal billows through me; pinging flows straight to my clit. The door isn’t locked, and somehow, that excites me.