by HELEN HARDT
Of course, he nearly ended it today at his office.
So again, now what?
I continue to wait for his instruction.
It doesn’t come. Instead, he says, “I’m exhausted, and I have an early meeting in the morning. Good night, Skye.”
He leaves the office, closing the door behind him.
Be ready for anything.
This is what he planned? To abandon me? What about his earlier text?
Everything’s ready for tonight. Are you?
Of course, that was before…
Now what? Am I supposed to stay here? Spend the night in his office?
No, I will not. I’m obviously free to leave. Christopher will most likely be happy to drive me home. Or I can go up to the new bedroom Braden showed me earlier. Or I can go to Braden’s bedroom and snuggle up to him.
Three choices.
One problem, though.
Braden still hasn’t given me permission to speak. Does he realize his error?
A grin splits my face.
Yes, he does. This is a test. A damned test.
Fine. I’ve never failed a test in my life, and I don’t plan to start now. I can eliminate two of my choices quickly. I will not go join Braden in his bedroom, because it will be difficult not to speak there. I also won’t go find Christopher and ask him to take me home, because that will require the use of my voice.
The reasoning behind him giving me my own room—tonight of all nights, when he nearly ended our relationship earlier—suddenly becomes crystal clear.
I gather the tatters of my bustier and leave Braden’s office, heading into the living area and then up the stairs, the pink rose petals still illuminating the path to my bedroom.
I smile again to myself.
Braden Black, you’ve met your match.
Chapter Eight
I wake up to the sun streaming through the skylight in my luxurious bedroom in Braden’s penthouse. Oddly, I feel better rested than I have in some time. I could say it was the expensive mattress. I could say it was the pillow that seemed to conform to my neck and head. I could say it was any number of things, all of which probably played a part.
In reality? It’s the big fat fact that I passed Braden’s test.
So far, anyway. How am I supposed to get through the day without speaking? I have to be able to answer the phone if someone calls with an offer. I suppose I can answer any offer with email.
I still have to get home, though. Asking Christopher to take me will require my voice. I suppose I could use the Uber app, but once the driver arrives, I’d likely have to speak.
I have to think of something. I have to win.
Is Braden still here? I honestly have no idea. My phone sits on the night table where I plugged it in last night. I grab it to check the time and—
A piece of white paper sits on top of a velvet jewelry box.
I put my phone down and unfold the paper.
Nice work, Skye. You may speak now. I hope you like your gift. Braden
I smile. As I suspected, Braden knew exactly what he was doing.
And I have successfully passed his test.
Apparently I also earned a reward, though his note doesn’t call it a reward. He called it a gift, so I choose to see it as such. Just a gift from a man to the woman he loves. My heart swells as I pick up the box, caressing its velvety texture, and open it.
Earrings! I gasp at their beauty. They’re simple ruby studs set in white gold, but the clarity is superb. I love them at once. They’re understated and elegant—something I’d choose for myself.
I smile as warmth rushes over me. Braden chose something he knew I’d love. With his money, he could have bought the most ostentatious piece of jewelry, but he gave me something beautiful in its simplicity.
I stare at them for a moment, letting something sink in.
This is my first gift from Braden. Sure, he replaced Tessa’s dress that he ruined, and he built me a lovely room in his home for my use, but this…
This is just because, and I love them all the more. I hastily put them on.
Braden is probably already at his office. After all, he left the note and earrings sometime before I woke up.
I look around the beautiful bedroom. He was planning to keep me from speaking, so he gave me a place where I could stay without using my voice.
Nice work, Braden.
I can’t help adding inside my head… And nice work, Skye.
I still have a problem, though. No bra or shirt. I slept in my birthday suit, so I get up, amble over to the closet, and open it.
It’s full of a wide variety of clothing. I smile again. He thought of everything.
I shower quickly and dress in my jeans from yesterday and a shirt from the closet. Then I walk down the staircase to be greeted by Sasha and my adorable Penny. I revel in their doggy kisses and say hello to Annika, who is dusting the living room. I peek in Braden’s home office, but he’s not there. Shoot. I want to thank him for the earrings in person. I guess a phone call will have to do. Then I walk to the kitchen.
Marilyn is wiping up the stovetop.
“Good morning,” I say.
“Good morning, Ms. Manning. What can I get you for breakfast this morning?”
“Oh. I don’t know.”
“Mr. Black says you can have whatever you want.” She smiles. “I can whip up some pancakes or waffles. I even have fresh blueberries. Bacon, eggs, toast. You name it.”
“How about some coffee?”
“You got it. Black, right?”
“Right.”
She sets a steaming mug of black coffee in front of me, and I take a seat at the island.
“I guess maybe just some scrambled eggs and a piece of toast.”
“Are you sure? These blueberries will make some great pancakes.”
“I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“It’s honestly no trouble, Ms. Manning.”
“Skye, please.”
“Okay, Skye.” She smiles.
And I decide I like Marilyn. I wasn’t so sure at first. But apparently, she’s not after Braden and he’s not after her.
“Seriously, just the eggs and toast.” I smile.
“Coming right up.”
Christopher walks in then. “Any coffee left, Marilyn?”
“Sure. I’ll get you a cup.”
“Morning, Ms. Manning,” he says.
“Skye,” I say adamantly.
“Right, Skye.” He smiles. “Will you be needing a ride home?”
“Yes, please. But not until after breakfast.”
“Can I make you anything, Christopher?” Marilyn asks.
“Actually, whatever you’re making right now smells great.”
“Scrambled eggs and toast for Skye. It’s no problem to add a few more.” She takes two more eggs out of the carton.
“That’ll be great.” Christopher sits next to me at the island. “We can leave after breakfast.”
I take a sip of coffee. “Sounds perfect. What time did Braden leave this morning?”
“Early. I took him to the airport.”
I try to hide my surprise. “He said he had an early meeting.”
“He does. In L.A.”
Again, I mask my surprise. Why didn’t he say anything? I can ask Christopher, but then it will be clear that Braden didn’t tell me where he was going, and for some reason, I don’t want Christopher or Marilyn to know I’m not privy to Braden’s whereabouts.
“Oh,” I say.
“He comes back this afternoon. He actually flew commercial this time. The jet has some scheduled maintenance.”
I nod, taking another sip of my coffee. Braden didn’t say anything about tonight anyway. Will I be seeing him? I have no idea.
“I’ll give him a call later.” I take a bite of eggs from the plate that Marilyn has set in front of me.
Christopher smiles, picks up a piece of toast, and takes a bite.
I clean my plate for show, but the eggs and toast that smelled so good while they were cooking taste like sawdust. Even the gorgeous ruby studs feel heavy on my ears.
“Thank you so much, Marilyn.” I touch my napkin to my lips and stand. “I’m ready to go, Christopher.”
…
Though I’m still irked that I didn’t know Braden was going to L.A., once I’m back at my apartment, I can’t wipe the smile from my face. Yeah, I’m pretty pleased with myself. I beat Braden at his own game. I know one thing, though.
The next game will be more difficult.
Why are we playing games, anyway? We’re supposed to be in love. But I can’t deny the enjoyment I feel now. Maybe this game is a part of that. And I won. I passed his test.
I grab my phone to thank him for the earrings, but I get his voicemail.
You’ve reached Braden Black. Please leave a message, and I’ll return your call as soon as possible.
“Hi, Braden,” I say into the phone, still unable to wipe the smile away from my lips. “It’s me. Thank you so much for the ruby earrings. I love them. In fact, I’m wearing them right now. They’re perfect. Call me. I love you.”
I fire up my computer. A few new emails since I last checked my phone. One from Eugenie at Susanne Cosmetics.
Skye, hello!
Are you available to fly to New York first thing next week? Say the word, and I’ll send you a first-class ticket. The social media marketing department is very excited about meeting you in person and discussing what we all believe will be a beneficial partnership.
Best, Eugenie
Braden rarely makes plans with me a day, let alone a week, in advance. The one exception was the Opera Guild Gala. But…he’s my boyfriend. We’re together. Should I check with him before I accept Eugenie’s invitation?
On the other hand, this is work. This is my living now, and he didn’t check with me before flying to L.A. this morning.
I quickly type a response to Eugenie accepting the invitation. The e-ticket arrives in my inbox a few minutes later.
I can’t help but smile. I’m taking pictures. Granted, most of them are selfies of me wearing lip stain, but at least I’m taking pictures and getting paid for them. I’m doing what I love, and I also have time to snap the kind of photos I truly enjoy, since I’m no longer bound to a day job.
My email dings—from Tammy at New England Adventures. I scoff.
Dear Skye,
We appreciate your interest in becoming a social media spokesperson for our company. However, we unfortunately have to rescind our offer per Section 4A(3) of the contract sent to you.
Sincerely, Tammy Monroe
Nothing I didn’t expect. Somehow, Addison got wind of my offer from the company and slid in to take it away from me. They weren’t going to pay me much—way below what Addison asks for. So either they got a fresh infusion of cash, or Addison agreed to do their promotions for peanuts, as she would say.
Yeah, she’s that petty. She’s already made it known what she thinks of me becoming an influencer. I imagine it won’t stop anytime soon.
Braden offered to take care of it for me, but I turned him down. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it on my own.
You’re a fr—
My phone interrupts my thoughts. I don’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“Is this Skye Manning?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Fabulous. Good morning, Skye. My name is Heather Thomas, and I’m the manager here at Crystal’s Closet Boston. In the less than twenty-four hours since you posted on Instagram wearing one of our bustiers, we’ve had thirty-five people come in asking to buy one.”
“Goodness. I’m glad the post was good for business.”
“Both good and bad for business. Now we’re out of stock, but that’s never a bad thing. We’re just sending customers to our online store, and if things keep going strong, we’ll be out of online stock by this evening.”
I’m not sure what to say. Luckily, Heather continues.
“Needless to say, we’re absolutely thrilled. Honestly, I had no idea one Instagram post could do so much.”
“I’m glad you’re happy.”
“Great, because we’d love for you to do another post. Actually, a series of sponsored posts wearing the bustier.”
My mouth drops open. I no longer have the bustier. Braden cut it into pieces.
“Okay… Why don’t I come in and talk to you about what you’re looking for?” And also find some way to tell you that my boyfriend destroyed the garment.
“That would be fabulous. How about lunch today?”
It’s nearly eleven now. Lunch is in an hour. “Dinner might work better for me.”
Except Braden might be expecting to have dinner with me. Of course, he hasn’t mentioned anything about dinner. Currently he’s in L.A., and though Christopher said he’d be home this afternoon, he might not have been factoring in the time difference. This is business. Why shouldn’t I have dinner with Heather to discuss business?
“Dinner would be fabulous,” she says. “I’ll make a reservation. Do you have any preferences?”
“No, I eat most anything. Just email me the information and I’ll meet you.” I hastily give her my email address.
“Fabulous,” she says. “I absolutely can’t wait to meet you in person.”
“I’m looking forward as well,” I say. “Thank you so much for your call.”
I end the call, mentally patting myself on the back for not using the word “fabulous.” Clearly Heather’s favorite word.
Dinner plans made. A girl has to eat, after all. And next week, I fly to New York.
This is all so unbelievable. Mere weeks ago, I was assistant to Addison Ames. Now I’m a budding Instagram influencer, and Braden Black is in love with me.
Fucking surreal.
Now, what to do until dinner? I change into my workout gear, grab a water bottle and one of my cameras, and head to the studio to pick up a quick yoga class. Afterward, I walk around the city for an hour, shooting candids. Next, I stop for a cup of coffee and a sandwich, do a quick post gratis, and give Tessa a call.
“You’re kidding me!” she gushes. “You’re going to be modeling clothes on Instagram for Crystal’s Closet?”
“Not modeling,” I say. “I mean, not modeling anything too risqué.”
“How do you know? They may want you to model pasties and thongs.”
I can’t help a boisterous laugh. “I don’t think so.”
“What if that’s what they want, though? You’ve got a great body, Skye.”
“Thank you, but I doubt they’d want an amateur like me.”
“What if that’s exactly what they want?”
I gnaw on my lower lip. “I don’t know, Tess. I can’t exactly turn down money right now.”
“Speaking of money, what is your billionaire boyfriend going to say about you exposing yourself to all of Instagram world?”
Brick in gut. I’ve been so excited about the opportunity that I haven’t given Braden’s feelings a thought…other than thinking it’s his own damned fault he didn’t make dinner plans with me. Did he see the Instagram post? Is that why he cut the bustier off me?
I don’t share, Skye.
Though technically he’s never said those words to me, I consciously know the truth of them.
Does that include looking? He had a conniption when he fo
und me with Peter Reardon at the MADD gala.
“Braden doesn’t own me,” I say.
“Braden is about as alpha as you can get,” Tessa says. “And I can’t think of any man who will want his girlfriend posing on social media wearing next to nothing.”
“It’s not like I’m doing it to be noticed,” I say. “I’m doing it to make money.”
Tessa erupted in laughter again. “Do you have any idea what you just said?”
Brick in gut again. “Yeah, I do. Maybe I should flog myself.” I laugh nervously at my own joke.
“Better yet, I’m sure Braden will be happy to flog you.”
I stiffen. I haven’t told Tessa about Braden’s enjoyment of dominance in the bedroom. So why is her statement so prophetic?
Betsy. Betsy probably told her about Braden’s tastes.
“Skye? Did I lose you?”
“No, I’m here. I’ll let you know how the meeting with Heather goes.”
“Where’s Braden?”
“He’s in L.A. today on business.”
“That works out well for you. He doesn’t even have to know about your little dinner with Crystal’s.”
Except he’s supposed to be back this afternoon. But I don’t say that to Tessa.
“I suppose so,” I finally say. “I have to run. I need to make something presentable out of my wardrobe for a business dinner. And for a business meeting in New York next week.”
“Out of your wardrobe? New York? We need to do some shopping.”
Tessa’s right. I have nothing to wear in New York. I wore jeans and blouses to work with Addison. And now that I work for myself? I wear whatever. The little black dress Braden had made for me or a black leather bustier…
“You just scared the shit out of me,” I say to her.
“Don’t be scared. This is great. It’s a chance to shop.”
“You know I’m not the shopaholic you are.”
“If it’s money you’re worried about, don’t. I’m the best at finding bargains.”
“True.” Tessa and I are on nearly the same budget, and she always looks like a million bucks when she’s spent only a hundred.
“This weekend,” she says. “You’re mine.”
