Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 88228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
He doesn’t answer for a few seconds. Then, “No, Skye. I can’t believe you would ask me that, but since our relationship is still new, I’ll indulge you and say this one time and one time only. I do not engage in anything illegal in my business. You said you trust me.”
“Braden, I—”
“The discussion is over. Either you trust me or you don’t.”
“I trust you.”
It’s the truth. The unadulterated truth. I trust this man. I’ve let him tie me up, bind me, blindfold me. I stayed with him after I found out he dumped Addie after she refused to do something in the bedroom, though I don’t know what it was. Might it have something to do with the hard limit he won’t talk about?
And I believe he conducts his business legally and ethically.
“Thank you,” he says. “Breaking the law is a hard limit for me.”
“For me, too,” I say.
“Then we’re on the same page.”
“So what’s your hard limit in the bedroom?” I asked.
“Nice try,” he says. “I’m still not going there.”
“Then…what kinds of things do you do in Manhattan that you don’t do in Boston? In the bedroom, I mean.”
And with whom? But I know better than to ask. We just had a conversation about trust, and anything he did before me isn’t my business, no matter how curious I am. I already promised myself I’d let it go. Or try, anyway.
The limousine pulls up to a large building. In the darkness, it looks like any other skyscraper.
“I don’t have to tell you,” he says. “We’re here. I can show you.”
My heart pounds.
Am I ready for whatever awaits inside?
The chauffeur opens my door and helps me out of the car. Braden takes my hand, and together we walk toward the door of the building.
“Good morning, Mr. Black.” A uniformed doorman tips his hat.
Braden nods as we enter, and he leads me through an ornate lobby of marble and crystal. I blink against the barrage of light. When we reach an elevator, Braden slides a card through the reader. So far, same as his penthouse in Boston.
We ride in the elevator, seemingly at the speed of light. My knees buckle at the upward thrust.
The elevator finally stops, and the doors open.
I blink.
Then I gasp.
Chapter Twenty-Six
A bustling office greets me.
Seriously. Men and women run back and forth from computers to copiers to phones.
This is Braden’s home away from home?
“Mr. Black, welcome.” A young man greets us. “We have the meeting set for an hour from now. Everything’s ready in the conference room.”
Conference room? This is a mistake. This isn’t Braden’s Manhattan penthouse. This is his office space. Has to be.
“I’ll be with you in a few minutes.” Braden turns to me. “Follow me, Skye.”
He leads me through the front area to a door in the back. He slides a card through another reader, and we enter as he shuts the door behind us.
The office sounds disappear instantly.
This part of the penthouse is soundproof. Nice call.
Another large area greets us, this one more like what I was expecting. It’s a living room decorated in a scant style. Seriously scant. Two wingback chairs, a sofa, and a coffee table. Odd, since his Boston place is decorated so completely. To the left is a kitchen, much smaller than his kitchen in Boston.
“I know you must be tired,” he says. “I’ll help you get settled in the bedroom, and then I have work to do.”
I nod. Tired is an understatement. I’m exhausted.
He leads me down a hallway and opens the door. I drop my mouth open. New York at night greets me, and it is splendid. Braden does like floor-to-ceiling windows. Just like his Boston penthouse, only instead of the harbor, the glitz of downtown greets me.
“Everything you need will be in the bathroom. Help yourself. If you’re hungry or thirsty, the kitchen is stocked.”
“But what about you?” I ask. “It’s the middle of the night. You must be tired, too.”
“Adrenaline,” he says. “This is an important deal. I’ll be fine.”
I nod. I know better than to try to talk him into staying with me, maybe giving me that orgasm he promised. Not going to happen. Not tonight.
He kisses my forehead. “Get some sleep.” Then he turns and walks out of the bedroom.
I sigh. This is life with Braden Black. Oddly, I’m okay with it. I love this man. I want to know this man. And coming here, to his Manhattan residence, will help me get to know him better—especially if this is where certain aspects of his “lifestyle” reside.
He said he’d show me. Apparently he meant later.
He’s all business right now. An important contract. I have no idea why or how it’s important, but I take him at his word. He’ll see to business.
But what of the lifestyle he was talking about? The lifestyle he keeps in Manhattan, never bringing to Boston?