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)
That’s why I’m doing this.
It’s not because I can’t stand being away from Skye until Saturday.
Fuck. What a damned lie!
For a man who values control, I’m losing it where Skye Manning is concerned.
“I suppose it won’t do me any good to ask why you’ve had this change of heart, huh?” Dimitri asks.
“No,” I say emphatically, “it won’t.”
My private life is private. I keep it out of the workplace. In fact, I keep a large facet of it out of my hometown of Boston.
My club, Black Rose Underground, is here in Manhattan.
And it’s here for a very good reason.
“Good enough,” Dimitri says. “I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t.”
We spend the rest of lunch getting Dimitri up to speed on some details for the meetings he’ll be taking. He’s well prepared already, which gives me even more faith in my decision.
After lunch, I call my pilot. “Change in plans,” I tell him. “We’re leaving this afternoon.”
“Hold on. I need to check with air traffic control for a takeoff slot. What’s your window?”
“I can be at the airport in an hour and a half. As soon as possible after that.”
“Got it. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
I’m heading to my Manhattan penthouse when I get the text from the pilot.
We’re ready to go at 4 p.m.
Excellent, I text back.
Assuming no delays, I’ll land in Boston by five and be back at my place by six. Enough time to see Skye. I considered sending her a ticket to meet me here in Manhattan, but she wouldn’t be able to get out of work with no notice.
Plus…I’m not sure she’s ready for New York Braden.
In the meantime…
I slide my card through the elevator and descend to the bottom floor of the building.
The Black Rose Underground.
The club is closed during daytime hours, but I want to be here for a few minutes. I want to soak up the atmosphere, try to get my head on straight.
This place is my escape—in more ways than one.
Yes, it’s where I can indulge my darkest fantasies, whatever they may be.
But it’s also an escape from home. From Boston.
Don’t get me wrong. I love Boston. It will always be my home base.
But I don’t allow certain parts of my life in Boston.
Here, at the club, I wear a mask—albeit a metaphorical one. But in some ways, this is the only place where I’m truly myself.
I walk past the vacant bouncer’s desk and into the large common area, where I flip on the lights. The club looks so different without guests, almost as if it’s in some kind of dormant state, waiting to be awakened tonight with members and their fantasies.
I love this place.
More than once I’ve had a woman ask me why I enjoy the darker side of sex, why I enjoy taking such a dominant role.
I never answer. It helps me remain mysterious.
But the truth of the matter is that I don’t know.
Or rather, I do know, but I don’t like to think about the reasons.
The little boy from the food pantry, Benji, slides into my mind once again.
One little boy who shares my brother’s name…and he opened a window in my mind to things I prefer to keep dormant, much like the club is dormant at this hour.
The door to the exhibition rooms and playrooms looms ahead in the distance, but I have no desire to go through it.
I’m not here to think about sex or fantasies or what I want to do to Skye in my private suite.
I’m here to escape the thoughts that have been plaguing me since the trip to the food pantry.
Except this place is offering anything but escape…
…
It was Benji’s birthday, and Daddy was out on a bender. That’s what Momma said, anyway.
“What’s Daddy bending?” I asked Momma.
She didn’t answer because she was busy changing Benji’s diaper. My baby brother was one year old today.
My momma was beautiful. She had dark-brown hair and blue eyes, just like mine. Benji’s were brown like Daddy’s.
Momma bought a special cake at the bakery for Benji. It was chocolate with white icing and words in blue. Momma told me it said, “Happy Birthday, Benji.”
But when Daddy got home from work, he came in and got mad about the cake.
“The kid’s too young to even know it’s his birthday. Why the hell did you spend money on a cake?”
“He’ll only be a year old once, Bobby.”
“For Christ’s sake.” Daddy pulled open the screen door. “I’m out of here.”
That’s when Momma said he was on a bender.
I didn’t cry when Daddy got mad anymore. I used to, but I was a big boy now. Almost four years old. I only cried when Momma got mad at me.
Momma only got mad at me when I was bad. I tried to be a good boy because I hated it when Momma was mad. Luckily, she didn’t get mad a lot. She didn’t even get mad when Daddy yelled about the cake and left.