Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 78521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
I’m going to take Skye somewhere she’s never been…and somewhere I’m longing to go.
I text her again.
Everything’s ready for tonight. Are you?
She’d better be ready. Yes, I’ll tread carefully, but I’m going all in to bring her fully into her dark and forbidden side, and if it goes well…
I draw in a breath, my cock hardening with the thought of taking Skye to my club in New York.
Black Rose Underground.
The place where I make my darkest desires a reality.
The place where I’ll show Skye who I truly am sexually.
I jerk out of my musing when someone knocks on the door.
“Yeah?” I say.
Claire opens the door. “Your lunch was delivered.”
“Thanks, Claire. Just set it up on the table by the window, please.”
“Sure thing.” She pulls out the containers of Chinese food and serves dim sum on china with actual silverware and a cloth napkin. Call me old-fashioned, but I hate eating out of takeout boxes.
Hmm. Not long ago, Skye and I shared a meal here…and then I fucked her against the window.
Damn.
I can’t wait for tonight.
But I have to corral thoughts of the woman I love. I don’t have a lot of time to eat lunch, as I have an important phone conference soon with Ken Akers, Foster McCain’s vice president of acquisitions, to hammer out some specifics regarding our real-estate deal in the UK.
I fill myself with pot stickers and chicken feet. I take shit from Ben about the chicken feet, but what can I say? I love them. The gelatinous texture is part of the appeal, but the best thing about them is their intense flavor. Like chicken on steroids, and with the Chinese sauces and spices, they’re delectable. I finish with some spring water, wipe my mouth with my napkin, and then buzz Claire to clear the dishes.
I rise, inhale, and wish I had the time for a brisk walk before this meeting, but the day has already been hectic. I take a seat behind my desk and wait for the call to come through.
Less than a minute later, Claire buzzes. “Ken Akers on line two.”
“Transfer to my cell, please,” I tell Claire.
“Will do.”
Seconds later, my cell phone vibrates, and I pick it up. “Braden Black.”
“Mr. Black, Ken Akers,” he says in his perfect English accent. “I have our solicitor, Penelope Morgan, on the line.”
“Ms. Morgan.”
“How do you do, Mr. Black?”
“I’m just fine. And you?”
“Perfect. Will your solicitor be joining us?”
“Not today.”
I have a top-notch legal team, but I prefer to begin negotiations myself. McCain has already signed the necessary paperwork. This is just fine tuning. If things get ugly? I’ll call in the lawyers, but McCain wants this deal to happen, so I’m not concerned, although if we don’t come to terms the deal could potentially fall through. I’ll bring legal in if necessary, but already I know I can handle Ken Akers and Penelope Morgan.
“Let’s get to it, then,” Akers says. “I’d like to bring your attention to page thirty-five of the prospectus. Mr. McCain has an issue with—”
Someone pushes the door open and enters. Probably Claire with my mail.
I’m sitting at my desk with my chair turned to face the wall so my back is to the door, cell phone to my ear, listening to Ken prattle on about semantics.
A throat clears.
Okay. Not Claire after all. She’d never bother me in the middle of an important phone conference. She’d do what she needs to do and then split quietly.
I slide the wheels of my chair so I’m facing the doorway and—
Skye.
In the middle of this important conference that has major implications for my business in the UK.
And damn, she looks hot.
Hot and…not happy.
In fact, her gorgeous brown eyes are on fire.
I motion to the phone and then nod toward a chair. Skye doesn’t budge. Simply stands, facing my desk, her arms across her ample chest and that sexy mouth in an angry pout.
“I’m telling you, Black,” Akers drones on, “this could throw a wrench in the whole deal.”
“Calm down,” I say into the phone. “There won’t be any wrenches. Mr. McCain already approved the language.”
“Contingent upon my approval,” Ms. Morgan says, “and we have different laws regarding transfer of property in the UK. We’ll need to…”
Her words morph into a jumbled mess.
Skye takes up my office, which is no small feat. My office is huge. She’s gorgeous in her tight jeans and a blouse that shows some of her awesome cleavage. And those lips…
But she owns the room right now. Her emotions fill it. Something has her agitated, angry, and I don’t have a clue what it could be. She has commandeered my office because something has upset her, and while I care about her and about anything that might distress her, she knows better than this.
She would say she’s taking charge. Exhibiting her control. She’s wrong. She’s showing a total lack of control, barging into my office when she knows I’m busy.