Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Sloane takes a long sip of her drink, studying me thoughtfully.
“Maybe Jack has hidden depths too. Or maybe he’d be open to exploring new things with you. Plus, firefighters are used to handling heat, right?”
I groan at her terrible pun but a laugh still escapes. “That was awful.”
“You love it,” she grins. “But seriously, don’t write him off just because he seems safe. Give him a chance. Maybe he’ll surprise you. Also, don’t hold back on this Dark Secrets thing either. Explore it. Live it. Fuck . . . maybe I need to as well.”
I nearly choke on my drink. “You? On Dark Secrets?”
Sloane shrugs. “Why not? I could use some excitement in my life. Plus, it might be fun to explore my wild side a bit.”
“Trust me, your wild side is plenty explored,” I laugh, remembering some of Sloane’s more outrageous escapades.
“Well trust me on one thing,” she says. “Now that I know this about you, we are going to have much more fun! No more cocktails at geriatric hour for us.”
I giggle, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation at Sloane’s words. “Oh no, what have I unleashed?”
“Only the best kind of chaos,” Sloane says with a wink. “Now, finish that drink and give me your username so I can look you up.”
I nearly choke on my drink. “My username? Oh no, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Come on! I won’t tell a soul,” Sloane wheedles. “And I promise I won’t judge. And who knows, maybe I’ll even become a subscriber.”
The thought of Sloane watching my videos makes me squirm. “That’s . . . really not necessary. And obviously this stays between us.”
Sloane pouts but nods. “Fine, keep your secrets. For now. But don’t think this conversation is over.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, grateful for the reprieve. “Thanks. And really, it’s not that exciting. Mostly me in lingerie, maybe a little role play . . .”
“Uh-huh,” Sloane says, clearly unconvinced. “Well, whatever it is, I’m proud of you for exploring that side of yourself. But I also need to put on my corporate, responsible hat too. Be careful. Jasmine is conservative.”
I nod. “I know about the morality clause in the contract. Trust me. It keeps me up at night.”
Sloane’s expression turns serious. “Good. Because as much as I love this wild side of you, I’d hate to see you lose your job over it. Jasmine can be unforgiving when it comes to the company’s image.”
I nod, feeling a knot form in my stomach. “I know. That’s why I’m so careful about keeping my identity hidden. No face shots, nothing that could tie back to me or Moth to the Flame.”
“Smart,” Sloane says, finishing her drink. “But also . . . kind of sad, isn’t it? That we have to hide parts of ourselves to keep our jobs?”
I sigh, tracing the rim of my glass. “Yeah, it is. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.”
Sloane reaches out and squeezes my hand. “Hey, don’t go there. You’re talented, Chloe. Your work at Moth to the Flame is important. And if this . . . other thing . . . helps you express yourself, then more power to you. Just be careful, okay?”
I squeeze her hand back, grateful for her support. “I will.”
As we sit in companionable silence, my phone buzzes again. I glance down to see another message from Jack.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything. Just wanted to say goodnight and sweet dreams, Scrooge.”
A smile tugs at my lips, warmth spreading through my chest that has nothing to do with the alcohol.
“Ooh, is that the firefighter again?” Sloane asks, noticing my expression.
I nod, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. “Yeah. He’s . . . he’s sweet.”
Sloane grins. “Well, don’t keep him waiting. Go on, text him back. I promise not to peek.”
I laugh and pick up my phone, my fingers hovering over the keys. How do I balance these two sides of myself? The Chloe who’s drawn to Jack’s warmth and safety, and the one who craves the excitement and freedom of my alter ego?
Goodnight, Jack, I type. Sweet dreams to you too. And don’t worry, no eggnog-drowning here. Just some holiday cheer with a friend. Looking forward to our date.
I hit send and put my phone away, turning back to Sloane with a smile. “Now, where were we? I believe you were about to tell me about your family’s infamous eggnog incident of 2018 again.”
Sloane’s eyes light up mischievously. “Oh, you’re in for a treat. Picture this: My Uncle Fred, who fancies himself a mixologist, decided to ‘improve’ on Grandma’s secret recipe . . .”
As Sloane launches into her tale, complete with dramatic reenactments and colorful impressions of her relatives, I find myself laughing harder than I have in months. The weight of my secrets, my conflicting feelings about Jack, and my worries about work all fade into the background, if only for a moment.