“Esteban’s is yuppy Mexican food,” he says. “But it’s still decent.”
“True.”
The server returns with the menus. I glance over mine.
“Eat hearty, Skye,” he says. “You’re going to burn a lot of calories tonight.”
…
As soon as we enter Braden’s penthouse, he attacks me next to the elevator, kissing me hard and deep. I respond immediately, my whole body quaking in anticipation of what’s to come.
Then his phone buzzes, and he breaks the kiss.
“Ignore it,” I whisper.
“I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m expecting an important call.”
“At nine thirty?”
He doesn’t answer, just pulls his phone out. “Black,” he says, walking toward the living room.
I straighten my clothes and follow him, but a few seconds later he walks away and into his office, closing the door.
None of my business. I get it.
I head to the kitchen for a glass of water. I down it quickly. Two Wild Turkeys and Braden’s kiss have me dangerously dehydrated.
About fifteen minutes later, Braden returns. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I have to fly back to New York.”
“Right now?”
“Yeah. I shouldn’t have left early. My bad.”
He left early because of me. Am I supposed to feel bad about that? Because I don’t. Not in the least. I say simply, “Oh.”
He stalks toward me. “I seem to make questionable decisions because of you, Skye.”
I say nothing. Just shiver from his nearness.
“I want you to think about something while I’m gone.”
I shiver. “What?”
He pushes something into my hands. It’s a silver chain with some odd-looking baubles at each end. “About wearing this to the gala on Saturday.”
I wrap it around my neck and secure it like a lariat necklace. “All right. It will go nicely with the black dress.”
Braden laughs.
A serious uproarious laugh.
I smile because I love seeing him laugh. “What’s so funny?”
“It’s not a necklace.”
My cheeks warm. I remove it from my neck and hold it out to him. “What is it, then?”
“Those things on each end are nipple clamps, Skye.”
My nipples tighten and my areolas shrink around them in response to his words. My jaw drops as I examine the baubles on each end. They resemble tiny clothespins with a screw-on device reminiscent of some of my mother’s old clip-on earrings.
“I control how tight the clamp is,” he says. “And when I give the chain between them a good yank… Well, you can imagine.”
I hand the chain back to him and clear my throat. “I’ll…think about it.”
His gaze darkens. “Think about it a lot, Skye.”
I nod, trying not to tremble.
“I’m sorry about tonight. Christopher will drive you home.”
“When will you be back?”
“Saturday afternoon, as originally planned. I’ll pick you up at your place for the gala at six p.m. sharp. I’ll bring the chain and put it on for you.”
I’m hotter than ever now, and he’s leaving.
Maybe tonight I’ll try masturbation again.
I nod. “Braden?”
“Yes?”
“I… I’ll miss you.”
He smiles. “I’ll miss you, too, Skye. More than you know.”
Chapter Fifty
I allow myself some indulgence the next morning. I sleep in a little. No job to go to, so why not? I fire up the laptop and check my Venmo account. Sure enough, Susanne Cosmetics has sent me five thousand dollars, half of the contract amount.
At least I’ll be able to pay my bills for the month or two—after I put a third of it away for taxes. Being self-employed comes with its own issues.
I don’t normally exercise during the week, but I have time, so I head to the yoga studio and pick up a morning class. After a quick trip for groceries, I return home at one p.m., fix myself a sandwich, and sit down at the computer.
First, I check my phone. Did I inadvertently silence the ringer?
No, it’s on. No calls.
No one else asking for me to do a post.
Okay. No reason to panic. I’ve got another five thousand dollars coming after Saturday.
Time to check my post.
I delete a few comments that are borderline negative and respond to quite a few. No more comments from Addie. She probably figured I’d block her, and if I did, she’d no longer be able to keep tabs on me.
Of course she could always open up a dummy Instagram account.
So could I, if I ended up having to block her.
Perhaps she is truly taking the high road. For now at least. Probably not, but a girl can hope.
I play around on Instagram for a little while until my phone dings with a notification. Hmm. Apparently I have a direct message. No one has ever messaged me on Instagram before.
I click.
The message is from Tammy Monroe. Never heard of her.
Greetings, Skye! I see you’re a new influencer, and I love your name. I’m the marketing director for New England Adventures, and we’d like to contract you for an Instagram campaign. We’ll call it Skye Takes to the Sky. You would take a ride in one of our hot-air balloons and post over the beauty of our New England countryside. Please contact me if you’re interested.