“How would they know about a party at the Ames house?”
“Got me. Betsy didn’t know.”
“Okay. Wait, hold on a second.” A server approaches. “Black coffee,” I say. Then, to Tessa, “Go ahead.”
“According to Betsy, Addie was all over Braden, but he didn’t give her the time of day.”
“What? They both cop to having a thing.”
“They did, but it didn’t start that night. Addie got obsessed with him. She couldn’t understand how anyone could turn down an Ames heiress, and she was determined to lose her virginity that summer…to Braden Black.”
“Oh my God…”
“She found the construction site where he was working and showed up there the next week. He rebuffed her again and again, but she didn’t get the message.”
“Seriously? She’s a stalker?”
“She was then, anyway. Braden had a small apartment in South Boston, and Addie found the address.”
I don’t like where this is going. “And…?”
“Betsy stopped talking,” Tessa says.
“Are you kidding me?” I wave thanks to the server when she sets my cup of coffee on the table.
“Yeah. She even covered her mouth and begged me not to tell anyone what she said, that she wasn’t supposed to talk about it.”
“What did you do?”
“I assured her I’d be discreet, of course, but that I tell you everything. She said that was okay but that you couldn’t tell anyone. I assured her you wouldn’t. I didn’t want to push her any further. She’s so sweet, and it’s really not any of my business.”
I take a sip of coffee. “Ouch!” The hot liquid scorches the inside of my mouth. I swallow quickly, burning a trail down my esophagus.
“What?”
“Nothing. I burned my tongue. Then what happened?”
“I said good night, we made plans to have drinks again sometime, and I promised I’d visit her boutique to get more treats for Margarita.”
“Margarita?”
“My fake dog. Rita for short.”
“All you could think of was Margarita?”
“What can I say? I was drinking a strawberry margarita.”
I roll my eyes. Tessa and her froufrou drinks. “Slick, Tess.”
“Hey, I was on the spot.”
I sigh. “Yeah, okay. We still don’t know what happened between them and why Addie is convinced Braden is bad news.”
“But we do know that Addie is the one who pursued Braden.”
“Which means she probably felt scorned when whatever they had ended.”
“Right,” Tessa says. “And hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”
We end our call, and I take another sip of my coffee. It’s still hotter than asphalt on a summer day. I quickly lay several dollar bills on the table and leave the café. Now what? The stolen letter burns hot in my purse. I can almost feel its energy, like a homing signal is beeping from it.
All in my imagination, I know, but this was a huge mistake. Braden says he can’t have a relationship with me. How can I expect him to change his mind if I paw through his personal mail? I trudge back to his building, half smile at the doorman, and press the intercom once more.
“Yes?”
My stomach twists into knots.
It’s Braden’s voice.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“You… You’re supposed to be in New York,” I say without thinking.
Damn. Should have just rung the doorbell and ran. Except I’m not twelve.
“Skye? What are you doing here?”
“I dropped off some treats for Sasha, and I think I lost an earring. I just wanted to come up and look for it.” The lie tastes like stomach acid in my throat.
“All right. I’ll send the elevator down.”
I move toward his private penthouse elevator and wait. When the doors open, I expect Christopher to walk out, but the elevator is empty. I enter and push the lone button for the penthouse.
Chills sweep over me as the cubicle ascends. Too soon, the door opens.
Braden stands waiting in the entryway. “Good evening, Skye.”
“Hi.” My voice cracks. Shit.
“Thank you for the treats for Sasha. I just saw the basket in the kitchen.”
“You’re welcome. I got it free at a shoot, and of course I have no use for it.”
“Nice of you to think of her,” he says.
Things seem icy between us. But why? He showed up at my place unannounced. Why shouldn’t I show up at his? “Why are you home so soon?”
“I was able to complete the business early.”
“In one day?”
“Does that seem implausible to you?”
Does it? He’s a billionaire. People probably continuously kiss his ass. No, it’s not implausible. What’s more implausible is that he had to be gone the rest of the week. Did he lie to me?
I have no right to ask, especially with a stolen piece of mail burning a hole in my purse.
And that’s just it.
I don’t want any lies between us. I can’t control what he tells me, but I can at least control what I do. If I want him to eventually commit to a relationship, I need to show him I mean business. Honesty and trust are a big part of that.