I pull my wallet out of my purse and remove my license. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.”
A moment later, I have a “visitor” name tag complete with my license photo, which of course sucks.
“Twenty-seventh floor,” the receptionist says. “Elevators are down the hall to the right.”
“Thank you.”
I’m constantly aware of the butt plug, which makes me constantly aware of Braden.
And it helps to have him with me today.
It helps a lot.
I walk to the elevator, each step nudging the plug in my ass.
I smile as I push the up button.
I smile when I enter the elevator and push number twenty-seven.
I smile when I leave the elevator and walk toward the glass doors with the Susanne logo displayed prominently.
I can’t stop fucking smiling!
All because of a butt plug.
Until—
My smile fades in a microsecond as I see who’s chatting with the receptionist.
Addie.
Addison Ames is here.
And she’s talking to the receptionist—the receptionist I have to check in with.
There’s no avoiding her.
Fuck.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Braden’s anal plug reminds me to walk tall. This is my meeting. Not Addie’s or anyone else’s.
I stride toward the reception desk, my head held high.
“Good morning,” I say.
The receptionist turns away from Addie. “Yes, may I help you?”
“I’m Skye Manning. I’m here to see Eugenie.”
“I guess that’s my cue,” Addie says, smiling. “See you soon, Lisa. Skye, nice to see you.”
I meet her saccharine smile with what I hope looks like a genuine one. “Always a pleasure.”
Addie wants to say something snide. It’s killing her that she can’t in front of Lisa.
I’m enjoying every minute of it.
Addie leaves through the transparent door and heads to the elevator.
“Do you know Addison?” Lisa asks.
“I used to work for her,” I say.
“Lucky you! She’s amazing, isn’t she?”
She’s a conniving bitch. “Oh, yes. Amazing. That’s the word for her.”
“Go ahead and have a seat. Eugenie is expecting you. I’ll let her know you’re here.”
I nod and take a seat on one of the plush chairs in the large waiting area, ever aware of the invasion in my ass. I help myself to a small bottle of water. Won’t hurt to ease the dryness in my throat. I feel like I swallowed a mouthful of sawdust.
My phone dings with a text.
Nice try. A Chanel handbag and Prada pumps don’t make you me.
Addison.
Just when I wonder if it’s possible to dislike her more than I already do, she always surprises me.
And my pumps are Jimmy Choo, not Prada. So much for her great influencing. Not that I can tell Prada from Jimmy, either, but then I wasn’t born with a silver spoon up my ass.
I’m tempted to take a quick selfie and post about the fact that I’m sitting at Susanne Corporate, but I don’t. That would be truly unprofessional. I’d only be doing it to show off, and that’s not me.
God, Addie brings out the worst in me.
Ding!
Another text.
I roll my eyes and look at my screen.
That butt plug doesn’t, either.
What the fuck?
First she knew about the nipple clamps at the gala and now this? Does she truly know Braden’s MO that well? More than a decade has passed since they were together. What isn’t Braden telling me?
Damn. I promised I’d leave this alone. So Addie knows I’m wearing a butt plug. So what? Maybe I’m walking funny.
Except I’m not. At least I don’t think I am.
If Braden is telling the truth, and they were over a long time ago, then she knows his MO for one of two reasons. He either did the same thing with her long ago, or she’s still stalking him and knows his MO with women.
Which means he’s doing the same thing with me as he’s done with others.
It shouldn’t bother me.
But it does.
Then I realize… This is exactly what Addie wants. She wants to knock me off my game. It’s a mind fuck.
I’m not going to let her win.
“Skye.”
I look up from my phone.
Eugenie stands in front of me, tall and graceful, her graying hair cut in a pixie Jamie Lee Curtis style. She’s composed and elegant. The epitome of what an older executive woman should look like, at least in my mind.
Braden’s plug reminds me why I’m here. I stand and meet her gaze. Sort of. She’s taller than I am, so I have to look up.
Eugenie holds out her hand. “You’re even prettier in person.”
My cheeks warm, and I take her hand and shake it firmly. “As are you. So nice to finally meet you.”
“Come on back. I have some of the marketing team ready in the conference room. We’re all very excited to talk to you about what we have planned.”
Are you still working with Addison?
I desperately want to ask, but I can’t. It’s childish and unprofessional. So what if they’re working with her? What do I care, as long as they work with me? Addie still has a much greater following than I do.