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)
I really love my job and the last thing I want is to jeopardize it. I know that Tyler has Jasmine’s ear, and while I hope I’d be taken seriously if I came forward, I’d rather not find out.
Sloane nods thoughtfully, her brow furrowed. “I get it. You don’t want to rock the boat.”
“I’m a contractor. Not an employee,” I point out.
“I get it. But listen, if Tyler keeps this up, you need to say something formally. I can help you if you’re not comfortable going to Jasmine yet.”
“Deal.”
“Okay, subject change,” Sloane says, her tone lightening. “So last night got me thinking. Your bombshell of a secret really sunk in once I was sober.”
My stomach clenches at Sloane’s words. The events of last night come flooding back, and I suddenly remember the drunken confession I’d made. “Oh god,” I groan, covering my face with my hands. “I can’t believe I told you about that.”
Sloane’s eyes sparkle with excitement. “Are you kidding? I’m glad you did! Which also means that we have plans Friday night. We’re going to Naughty and Nice. No arguments.”
“The nightclub? Isn’t that like a sex club? I heard it was members only or something?”
Sloane waves her hand dismissively. “Oh please, I have connections. But Fridays is open to all anyway. They’re having a holiday party and it’s going to be packed. And it’s not just a sex club—it’s more of an upscale, exclusive venue for adults to explore their . . . interests. Perfect for people like us.”
“Like us, huh?”
Sloane grins. “Exactly. People who are curious, open-minded, and ready to explore. Come on, it’ll be fun. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find someone who can help you indulge.”
My thoughts instantly turn to WinterWatcher and how he and I indulged in our own way last night. A blush creeps up my neck, and I hope Sloane can’t see. I’m not ready to tell her about him yet.
“It’s just a party,” Sloane insists. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We’ll go, have a few drinks, maybe dance a little. If you hate it, we’ll leave. No pressure.”
I bite my lip, considering Sloane’s offer. Part of me is terrified at the thought of going to such a place, but another part—a part I’ve been trying to ignore for years—is thrillingly curious.
“I . . . I don’t know, Sloane. It sounds intense.”
“Come on, live a little! When was the last time you did something truly exciting?”
I think about my recent online encounters with WinterWatcher, but of course, I can’t tell Sloane about that. “Fine,” I sigh, unable to resist her enthusiasm. “But if I say I want to leave, we leave. No questions asked.”
Sloane claps her hands together, beaming. “Deal!” Her eyes narrow, and I recognize the mischievous look immediately. “You know . . . you could always invite fireman Jack to meet you. Maybe he can show you his naughty and his nice.”
My cheeks flush at the mention of Jack. “Sloane! No way. I barely know him. Besides, I don’t think he’s the type for that kind of scene.”
Sloane shrugs, a sly smile playing on her lips. “You never know. Sometimes the quiet ones are the wildest behind closed doors.”
I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the guilt that runs through me at the thought of Jack just minutes after thinking of WinterWatcher. My thoughts have become a two-timing whore.
“Speaking of Jack,” Sloane says, her eyes glinting with curiosity, “you never did tell me how exactly you ended up in his shirt this morning. Spill the details, honey.”
I sigh, knowing Sloane won’t let this go. “It’s really not that exciting. I was rushing to get coffee before work, not paying attention, and crashed right into him. Spilled my entire latte down my front.”
I continue the story, glossing over the fact that my insides were torn to shreds because after my encounter with WinterWatcher, something was off between the two of us. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something was off. And it wasn’t just the guilt I felt inside.
Sloane’s lips curl into a knowing smirk. “You like him a lot, don’t you? But you feel guilty because of your secret online profile.”
She has no idea how right she is.
My face heats, caught off guard by Sloane’s perceptiveness. “I . . . it’s complicated,” I stammer, not sure how to explain the tangled web of emotions I’m dealing with.
Sloane’s expression softens. “Hey, I get it. You’re exploring different sides of yourself. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
I nod, grateful for her understanding. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, you know? Jack seems like a really good guy.”
“And you’re a really good girl. You deserve to find happiness after everything you’ve been through,” Sloane prompts with a tone that reminds me of my mother’s. Comforting. Warm. Like a loving hug.