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)
“Interesting,” he says again and turns back to me. “How did you two meet?”
Loaded question. I’m hardly going to tell the chairman of the opera board that I sent a snide Instagram comment to Skye’s employer.
“Skye used to work for Addison Ames,” I say.
“Oh, I see. Used to?”
“Yes.” I take a sip of champagne. “She’s on her own now, doing her own social media influencing as a way to get her photography seen.”
“Social media.” George shakes his head. “Call me old-school, but I don’t get it.”
George is at least twenty years older than I am. “The opera guild has an Instagram account,” I say.
“I’m sure we do, but I’ve never seen it.” He laughs. “Good to talk to you, Braden. I’ll see you onstage after dinner.”
I nod as George goes on to the next table.
Skye takes a sip of champagne as she continues to look around the room. A moment later, she touches my arm gently. “Excuse me for a moment.”
I nod.
She leaves our table and walks around the room, darting her gaze here and there, until she disappears near the entrance. I soon see why when I look at her phone. A post pops up on my Instagram feed—a selfie of Skye in front of the banner at the entrance to the ballroom.
At the Boston Opera Guild Gala! #operaguild #formalball #supportthearts
Comments follow almost instantaneously.
Love your lips! What color are you using?
Just as instantaneously, she replies.
Night on the Town lip stain by Susanne. Perfect for an elegant evening!
I catch sight of her reentering the ballroom. Instead of returning to our table, though, she heads to the table where Peter Reardon and Garrett Ramirez are seated.
Icy rage curls at the back of my neck. What the fuck is she doing?
I play it cool, though, as several guests are approaching me. I say hello and shake hands, still watching Skye out of the corner of my eye.
Peter and Garrett both stand. At least they’re being gentlemen. Or playing the part, anyway. Nope. Take that back. They’re both staring at her tits now.
Those tits, over which I have control.
Fuck. I ought to waltz right over there and give Skye a good yank on the chain. Remind her who she’s with.
Not that I think Reardon or Ramirez are competition, but still… They’re staring at my woman’s tits.
My woman’s tits.
God, I’m fucked in the head. She’s not my woman. I’m not falling in love.
This is nothing but what it is—two adults who are attracted to each other having a good time.
Except I had to mentally remove her from my mind while I was in New York…and I wasn’t even wholly successful.
Damn it. Those tits are mine. Those lips are mine. Those legs are mine.
That woman is mine.
Once the guests are done schmoozing me and leave, I glare at Peter and Garrett. After a minute of what I hope is casual conversation, Skye looks toward our table.
She smiles.
I don’t.
Peter and Garrett both sit down.
Do not sit down at that table, Skye.
She doesn’t, thank God. Another moment later, she makes her way back to our table. I excuse myself from the newcomers who have swarmed around me and take her aside, walking her swiftly out of the ballroom and to a secluded hallway.
“What was that?”
“I was talking to Peter and Garrett. They’re the only two people here I know.”
“You know a lot of people. I’ve introduced you to everyone I’ve talked to.”
“That doesn’t mean I know them.”
“You know them as well as you know Peter Reardon.”
“Not really. Peter and I have danced. We’ve had a drink.”
I grip her shoulder, not hard but in a way that makes her know I’m serious. “For God’s sake, Skye. Are you trying to drive me to distraction?”
She wiggles against my hold. “I’m trying to have a good time here.”
“Being with me isn’t a good time?”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I just—”
I grab the chain beneath her silky dress and yank.
“Oh!”
“Don’t forget who you came with,” I say.
“I haven’t forgotten. I—”
I yank the chain again, this time slightly harder.
I swear to God, everything she feels on her nipples I feel quadrupled in my cock.
“Dinner is being served now. We’re going to go back to the table, eat, and then we’re leaving.”
“But it’s a ball. Aren’t we going to dance?”
“No,” I say. “We’re leaving after they thank me for my generous donation, which will happen right after dinner.”
“But—”
“No buts, Skye. You’ve already driven me out of my mind tonight. It’s time for me to return the favor.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
I take Skye’s arm and escort her back into the ballroom.
The crowds have dispersed a bit as people take their seats for dinner. Servers bring out plates covered in silver domes.
We’re nearly back to the table when someone steps in front of us.
“Don’t you two look stunning?”
Addison Ames, dressed to the nines, of course, in what couldn’t have cost less than about ten grand. Only she would have the nerve to speak to us after firing Skye. I won’t be drawn into her drama, and I won’t allow Skye to be, either.