Prologue
Oh? What are your hard limits?
I only have one.
What is it?
I don’t talk about it.
Don’t you think I should know? So I don’t bring it up?
Trust me, Skye. You will never bring it up.
…
Braden was wrong. I brought it up. Why did he think I wouldn’t?
Control. It’s the ultimate loss of control, and he assumed I’d never go there.
“Why?” I ask. “Why won’t you do it?”
“Why? Perhaps I’ll tell you why…as soon as you tell me why you feel you need it.”
“I…don’t know.”
He inhales. Exhales. Inhales again. Is he thinking about how to reply to me? Is he angry? Sad? Does he feel anything at all?
Because I can’t tell.
“For God’s sake, Braden,” I finally say. “Can you show me some emotion for once in your life?”
He cocks his head as his nostrils flare. “You think I don’t show you emotion?” He stands. “How can you say that? I’ve shown you more emotion than I’ve ever shown anyone. Anyone, Skye. If you don’t know that, you should.”
He’s right. I’m not being fair. He showed me a ton of emotion last night when my dinner burned, and I lost it. “Braden—”
“No. You don’t talk. Not until I’m done. I told you who I was. I told you I wasn’t wired for relationships. But I made an exception for you. I made that exception because I love you, Skye. I wasn’t looking to fall in love. I knew it would put a dent in my life—”
I can’t help responding. I’m torn in half, and I’m angry. “A dent, Braden? I’m a fucking dent?”
“Shut up! Just shut the fuck up, Skye. I will have my say, and then you can have yours. If you’re brave enough.”
“Brave enough? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what it means, and if you interrupt me again, this discussion is over.”
My lips tremble as I nod.
He clears his throat. “I made an exception for you. I decided to have a relationship—or try, at least—but I fear this little experiment of mine has failed.”
Little experiment? I’m a damned experiment? I want to yell, scream, tear out his hair. Punch his smug face until it’s bruised and battered.
I want to cry, sob in his arms, and tell him I’ll do anything to please him.
I want to beg him to take me back underground, tie me up, choke me.
I want to bare my soul, confess my love, tell him I’ll do anything… Anything…
But I sit quietly. I sit quietly because I’m afraid. I’m very afraid of where this is leading.
If you’re brave enough…
I’ve lost so much already.
And now I’m about to lose the man I love.
Chapter One
Seconds pass like hours.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
I wait.
I wait while emotion hurricanes through me in a mass of anger, sadness, and fear.
I wait for Braden to continue. To say what he has to say.
To end our relationship—a relationship that perhaps should never have begun.
I could be content right now. Who needs Susanne Cosmetics? I could still be working for Addison Ames. She paid me pretty well, and yeah, she’s a narcissistic bitch, but I was making contacts.
And Tessa. I’d still have Tessa. My best friend forever, except that forever apparently has an end after all. Maybe I’d be dating that Peter guy. He’s not a billionaire, but he’s an architect at a major firm. He does all right. Who needs a private jet anyway? Or a private driver? I’ll settle for a guy with a decent car. Who needs to be tied up? Spanked? Choked?
I never did.
I was content before.
Except that I wasn’t.
I was never challenged.
And Braden?
He challenges me. Not just in everyday, run-of-the-mill ways, either. He challenges my very way of thinking. He challenges my concept of myself. He dares me to try new things. Things I never even conceptualized before.
Things I never knew existed.
And I’m not just talking about the bondage.
I’m talking about life. About my photography. About seeing a bigger picture. About becoming what I’m meant to be.
Braden did all that for me.
And now he’s going to take it away.
“Well?” he finally asks.
I lift my eyebrows, fearing that if I speak, he’ll walk away that much sooner.
“You may speak,” he says.
I nod. “Well, what?”
“Fuck it all, Skye. Don’t you have anything to say?”
What? Did he say something after the experiment comment? Shit. He may have. I was busy having a little pity party for myself inside my head.
“I’m sorry. I’m a little…distracted.”
“Distracted? Really? So you don’t give a shit that we’re breaking up?”
My heart sinks to my belly. His words aren’t unexpected. No. In fact, I predicted them. But actually hearing them? In his voice?
They hit me like a tornado, crashing into me and shattering every glass window inside my soul.
It’s an implosion of thought and emotion. Of reality and identity.
“I’m sorry.” I choke back a sob. I made a fool of myself last night, crying over my ruined dinner. I won’t do it again.