Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 83171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
She works quickly. Clearly she signed the contract electronically and has already begun posting. Pride wells in me. Sure, Instagramming is far from her true calling, but it will get her noticed as someone other than Addie’s assistant.
And if I have it my way, she’ll be able to quit her current job. The farther away she is from Addison Ames, the better.
Already, she has a ton of comments.
Gorgeous on you! #orderingnow Love the color!
You look so happy!
Totally getting this for my wife.
I scroll through several more until one catches my eye.
@realaddisonames #fuckyou
Angry prickles crawl up my spine.
In an instant, another comment blares at me, pulsing along with my heartbeat.
@realaddisonames #youllneverbeme
I scoff aloud. She got that right. Skye Manning is already eons above Addison Ames in dignity, intelligence, and honesty.
Addison Ames should hope to be Skye Manning.
Of course, she’s too narcissistic to ever see the irony.
I’m tempted to intervene, but when I refresh my feed, the offending comments have disappeared. Skye obviously saw them and deleted them without responding. The woman has class.
And so do I.
I won’t intervene. I never do.
Except that one time when I was in a pissy mood and that damned coffee post got to me.
I can hardly regret that, though, even though it was impulsive and immature.
It led me to Skye.
I can’t resist leaving Skye a comment of my own.
@bradenblackinc You’re gorgeous. See you tonight.
I attend to a few more emails, including one from Dimitri about the meeting with Foster McCain tomorrow. As he suspected, McCain only wants to deal with me. Dimitri will try to smooth things over. If he can’t, he’ll call me tonight.
I sigh. This isn’t unexpected. But until I hear otherwise, I’m going to enjoy my evening with Skye. I head out of the office by six. Normally I go to the gym after work, but tonight, I’m heading to Skye’s. We didn’t make any formal plans, but my comment made it clear I want to see her.
She’ll be home by the time I get there.
I take the elevator down, stride through the lobby, and find Christopher waiting.
“The gym?” he says.
“Skye’s place,” I tell him.
“You got it.”
A half hour later, after braving rush-hour traffic, we arrive.
“You want me to wait?” Christopher asks.
“Yes, please.” I exit the vehicle and walk into Skye’s building.
When I reach her door, I knock.
No response.
I knock harder.
Again, no response.
Odd. Did she have to work late?
I text her.
Where are you?
Esteban’s. Having a drink with Tessa.
I’m at your place. Why aren’t you here?
Nothing for a minute. Then the little dots begin to move.
Because I’m at Esteban’s having a drink with Tessa.
The fuck? That prickly anger seizes my neck and squeezes. She knew I wanted to see her tonight. If she didn’t want to see me, she should have let me know.
Then again, we didn’t make any actual plans. Is it possible she didn’t see my comment? No, she saw it. She had to. This is her first sponsored post. She’s no doubt monitoring the comments with an eagle eye.
She should have known I’d be coming by.
I can stew about it and get angrier, which in turn will make her angry when I confront her, or I can simply go see her.
I choose the grown-up route.
Be there in fifteen.
I head back down and get in the car. “Looks like we’re going to Esteban’s,” I tell Christopher.
Once we arrive, I stroll in, excitement at seeing Skye making me feel a lot younger than I am. It’s wild, how she affects me. I mumble to the hostess that I’m meeting a friend who’s already here and whisk past without waiting for her reply, nearly bumping into Tessa Logan.
“Oh! Hi, Braden,” she says. “Skye said you’d be joining her.”
“Are you leaving?” I ask.
“Yeah, I just came in for a drink. I left Skye some money for the bill.”
“I’ll take care of it. She’ll return your money.”
“You don’t have—”
“I insist,” I say quickly. “Please excuse me.”
I don’t mean to be rude, but all I can think of is getting to Skye. I arrive at the table and find Skye counting bills and looking over the check.
I sit down at the table and take the check from her. “I’ve got it.”
“You don’t have to. They left money.”
“I saw Tessa on the way out,” I say. “I told her you’d be returning her money.”
“What about Betsy’s money?”
“Who’s Betsy?”
“Betsy… Huh. I don’t know her last name. Anyway, she owns the Bark Boutique where I got Sasha’s gift basket.”
Right. That Betsy. The one who has history with Addie. Was Skye pressing Betsy for information about Addie and me?
I don’t know how much Betsy knows, but I won’t worry about that at the moment.
“You can return her money, too,” I say.
“That’s generous of you, but you don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t have to, Skye. I want to. This is pennies to me.”