Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 91862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“All true,” Braden agrees.
“So it wasn’t Brock’s money. It was yours.”
He chuckles then, shaking his head. “This right here. This is why I love you, Skye.”
“This is why you love me? Because I helped you see something you already knew?”
“Well, this and about a thousand other reasons.”
I melt into him and wrap my arms around his neck. “Better.” I brush my lips across his.
He still hasn’t told me about his mother, but we’ve had enough for one day. I won’t push.
“I need to get ready for my dinner with Eugenie,” I say.
He nods. “I’m sorry I can’t join you.”
“Are you sure? I really want you there.”
“I wish I could, but there’s something that needs my immediate attention.”
I sigh. “Okay, but I have to tell you something first.” I relay the story of the hashtags.
“Good for you. You shouldn’t sell simplyskye. It’s yours.”
“And susieglow?”
“I’m okay with that. You wouldn’t be using it for anything other than your work with Susanne anyway. Companies pay for creations all the time.”
A bag of bricks falls from my shoulders. Braden agrees with me. I did the right thing. I knew it at the time, but I feel great knowing he agrees and would have advised me the same.
Maybe I’m ready to truly make my own business decisions. I’ll love his input, of course, but I can make the final decisions myself.
For a minute, I’m wearing a tight Wonder Woman suit. I feel totally empowered.
And I like the feeling. I like it a lot.
Braden gives me a searing kiss. “I have to go. I’m sorry. The limo is downstairs and will take you to dinner when you’re ready.”
“I understand. And thanks.”
“For what?”
“For trusting me.”
He nods briefly and within a few seconds, he’s in the elevator heading down. Away from me. To do what? Something about Addie? Something about Tessa? He was going to look into the ketamine situation, where Addie just happened to be that night.
It can’t possibly all be related. Can it?
No time to think about that now. I dress for dinner in a pink camisole, black skinny pants, and a gray blazer. Businesslike yet sexy. I like the look.
I have a few minutes before I need to head down to the limo. A good time to check in on Tessa.
“Hey,” she says into my ear.
“Hi. Just checking in. How are you feeling?”
“Good as new, to be honest. No aftereffects from the drug. I swear, Skye. I will never do any kind of drug again.”
“Well, this one wasn’t exactly your fault.”
“I know that, but I did the ecstasy before. No man is worth this.”
“True story,” I say.
“Garrett and I are through, no matter what. Whether he gave me the ketamine or not. And I just talked to Betsy.”
“About what?”
“About her and Peter. I told her what happened, and she agrees that she wasn’t quite herself that first night.”
My heart drops to my stomach. “Did she sleep with Peter that night?”
“Yeah, and a couple times after.”
“Braden’s looking into it,” I say.
“I know. Tell him thanks again.”
“I will. He’s not here right now. I’m getting ready to leave for dinner with Eugenie.”
“Without Braden?”
“Yeah, something came up for him.”
“What was it?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Well,” she says, “I hope everything’s okay.”
“Yeah, me too. I’ve got to run. I’ll check in again tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” I end the call and head to the elevator.
Eugenie, here I come.
Chapter Fifty-Three
A bourbon and one glass of wine. All I had to drink at dinner with Eugenie. I read every word of the new documents she drew up—they were fair, concise, and not too full of legalese—and then signed on the dotted line.
The limo drops me off at Braden’s building and the driver walks me to the elevator. I slide the card through. “Thanks a lot for the ride.” I smile.
He tips his hat. “At your service, Ms. Manning. Good evening to you.”
The elevator doors open, and I step in. They close. I check my watch. Ten thirty. Is Braden home? I have no idea. He hasn’t texted or called.
I thumb through some comments on my latest post, replying and deleting as necessary, when I realize something.
The elevator isn’t moving. Odd. I don’t press a button for the floor because there isn’t one to press. This elevator goes straight to Braden’s penthouse. There is, however, one marked “door open.” I push it.
The doors open, and—
I jerk, nearly stumbling.
Peter Reardon stands in front of me with an older man.
“Hello, Skye,” Peter says, his tone edgy.
Is he nervous? Maybe. I don’t know him well enough to say.
“Peter. What are you doing here?”
More importantly, why isn’t the elevator working? I keep the latter to myself.
“We came to see your boyfriend,” the other man says.
“And you are?”
“My father,” Peter says. “Beau Reardon.”
I clear my throat. “He’s not home yet.”
“Oh, we know that,” Beau remarks.
“Then why are you here? If you know he’s not, I mean.”