“You told me to forward the contract, Braden. You didn’t say to email it. So I forwarded it. In person.”
“You knew exactly what I meant.”
I don’t bother arguing the point. He and I both know he’s right. “So I got around your instructions. Just like how last night, you got around our agreement never to kick me out of your place. You said I was welcome to stay, but you made it very clear you were done with me for the evening.”
His lips tremble. Does he think this is funny? My neck burns with the anger creeping up on me. I wait for him to acknowledge my point, but he doesn’t.
“I never promised to give up my control outside the bedroom, Braden.”
“That’s true,” he says, “but you’re forgetting one very important detail.”
I whip my hands to my hips. “What’s that?”
“Any place can be a bedroom.”
Chapter Forty-Five
My legs tremble. I don’t for a second doubt that Braden is sincere. After all, he fucked me in the kitchen last night where Christopher or Annika could have walked in anytime. Already my core is on fire.
Then a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Braden says.
In walks Claire, her long blond hair flipped all over one shoulder. “The Babbler just came out online. I’ve ordered copies but figured you’d want to see this now, so I printed it. Let me know how you want to handle it.” She hands him a paper and then leaves, closing the door.
Braden scans the paper. He sighs and hands it to me, saying nothing.
I gape at the headline.
Braden Black Dating Kansas Native and Budding Influencer
Budding influencer? I only got the offer from Susanne Cosmetics today. Kay Brown works quickly.
I blink a few times, hoping the headline will disappear. “What the heck?”
“Did you think this would stay quiet for long?” Braden asks.
“But I didn’t tell her anything.”
“Do you think that matters?”
“Why do you keep asking me questions?”
“Let me put it to you this way. Neither of us said a thing. We didn’t have to. Read the article.”
I glance down.
Boston’s own billionaire Braden Black of Black, Inc. was seen nuzzling—
“Nuzzling?” I say, perplexed.
“To lean against,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “I know what it means, Braden. Jesus. We weren’t nuzzling.”
“Just read,” he says.
Boston’s own billionaire Braden Black of Black, Inc. was seen nuzzling a new love interest at the recent MADD charity event. She is Skye Manning, a self-professed farm girl and aspiring photographer who works for mega-influencer Addison Ames. “She’s smitten,” a source close to Manning says. “I’ve never seen her so infatuated.”
Yeah, I’m going to be sick.
Black, known for his womanizing ways, hasn’t dated anyone seriously since his short relationship with model Aretha Doyle ended last year. “I wish him all the best,” says Doyle. “He and I remain close friends.”
They do? First I’ve heard. Then again, since no source I know would say I’m smitten, this is probably another lie.
Black and Manning met at Ames’s office recently and have been inseparable since. They’ve dined together in public several times and Black will escort her to the Boston Opera Guild Gala this Saturday evening at the Ames Hotel Downtown.
Aspiring photographer Manning is reportedly thrilled by the attention. Several of Ames’s clients have reached out to her personally asking for Instagram posts. As she’s familiar with the business, she’s poised to become the next sweetheart of Instagram. “She’s over the moon,” the source says. “Not only is she on the arm of Braden Black, but she’s getting the attention she craves for her work.”
Black’s office had no comment.
I gulp. “Braden, I never said any of this.”
“I know.”
“And I have no idea who this purported source is.”
He nods.
“How can they lie like that?”
“Easy,” he says. “They found a ‘source’ who’s borderline credible and got him or her to say what they want. Happens to me all the time.”
“Not this time. You had no comment. It makes me look like I’m chasing you.”
His lips quirk. “And you’re not?”
“Braden! I’m being serious. I’ve had one call from Susanne Cosmetics, not several calls. This isn’t right. And how do they know we’re going to the opera gala?”
He chuckles. “Do you really think I announce where I’m going and who I’m going with?”
“Someone knows. Christopher? Annika?”
“I trust my staff implicitly.”
“Then who?”
“A source, most likely.”
I look around nervously. Is this office bugged? Is there a hidden camera? Braden wouldn’t film me without my knowledge. Would he?
“You’re getting carried away,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
“I know what you’re thinking. The same thing I thought the first time this happened to me. You’re wondering who’s watching you. Who’s listening to you. Who among your circle of friends could have sold you out. The answer? No one.”
“Then how—”
“I already told you. They find a source who doesn’t want to be named. Surely you’ve read tabloids before.”
“Actually, I haven’t,” I say.