Now, finally, it looked like the deal was back on track, but at what cost?
The prospect of losing a deal wasn’t one he had been willing to entertain. His priority had always been business first, pleasure second. When he’d cut his vacation short and hightailed it off the island and away from Sophia, he hadn’t really considered the potential repercussions.
In the past, if a woman he was dating balked and hit the road because his work obligations got in the way of their relationship, he would shrug and move on. He was too busy to spend his time trying to win back someone who didn’t want to be with him on his terms.
He had, he was beginning to understand, always taken the women in his life for granted. Whatever compromises had to be made were made by them. It hadn’t mattered that much to him before.
But it mattered now.
Sophia had seemed to be understanding about his need to salvage this deal. But he’d sensed the coolness of her texted responses and was keenly aware she hadn’t returned his phone calls. He’d promised himself he’d make it all right when she got back. He’d planned to surprise her by being at JFK, a huge bouquet of flowers in his hand, when she returned that evening.
Instead, he was sitting on a plane, heading in the wrong direction. He waved away the airline attendant’s offer of another scotch and soda. “What the fuck am I doing?” he muttered to himself as the plane descended. He glared out the window at the thick bank of clouds that hung over Houston like a shroud.
You’re clinching the deal. You’re going to be a million dollars richer once you finally put this one to bed.
Again, he wondered, at what cost?
It wasn’t like he needed the damn money. And if that deal had fallen apart, there would be other ones—probably better, less risky ones.
But there wasn’t another Sophia.
He’d never met anyone like her—someone who so perfectly fit his groove. The time he’d spent with her, albeit brief, was like nothing he’d experienced before. She was this amazing combination of strong, independent, free spirit and delicious submissive masochist. She could keep up with every dark fantasy he entertained, pushing his limits along with her own. It was exhilarating. Everything about her was just right. And he had a million diabolically wonderful ideas in mind for when they got back together.
He was beyond frustrated about the unexpected trip to Houston. He couldn’t wait to see Sophia again. He would repair whatever damage had been done. He would make it up to her. That was a promise—both to her and to himself.
~*~
The next morning, having slept like a log for ten hours straight, Sophia awoke at dawn. She sprang from the bed, excited at the prospect of heading over to her shop. She had been so exhausted the night before, she hadn’t even brushed her teeth. She headed into her bathroom—the room so small she could barely close the door once she’d maneuvered herself inside—to use the toilet and wash up.
As she lathered her hair under the invigorating hot spray of the shower, she couldn’t deny the swoop of excitement at the thought of seeing Nick again.
Hurrying with the rest of her shower, she grabbed a towel, gave herself a cursory drying and, towel wrapped turban style around her head, went in search of her phone. Pulling it from her purse, she saw she had two text messages from Nick.
“A quick meeting and then I’m heading back to NY. I have plans for you upon my return.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” Sophia said aloud, excitement again overriding her misgivings.
“My flight is scheduled to arrive at 6:24. See you around 8? I want to take you to Impulse, one of my private members-only BDSM clubs.”
A jolt of excitement shot through her at the thought of seeing Nick again in a few short hours. She’d heard about but never managed to wrangle an invitation to any of the various private BDSM clubs that dotted Manhattan. Going with Nick to one of his clubs would definitely be the icing on the cake.
A cold, stubborn part of her tried to hang onto her anger at his leaving Desire Island mid-way through their passionate adventure, and to remind her that Nick was trouble. But she could already feel that part of her melting. The truth was, she couldn’t wait to see him again, whatever the terms.
Still, she didn’t want to make it too easy for him. He’d have to work, at least a little, to get back into her good graces.
“Sounds like fun,” she texted back neutrally. “Where should we meet?”
Almost immediately, the little dots started undulating on the screen, indicating that he was typing. “I’ll pick you up at your place. I’ll text when I’m close.”