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)
“Not to you. So how much?”
Brock narrowed his eyes. “Six figures. Possibly seven.”
“Here’s your counteroffer,” I said, “and you’d do well to entertain it. Keep your little darling out of the spotlight and your money out of lawyers’ hands. Give it to me instead. I’ll drop the charges, and you guarantee me that this is over. Fucking over.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning your daughter will never make false allegations against me. I want it in writing, signed by both you and her. I’ll sign as well that I’ll never talk about the incident that put her in the emergency room. I’ll never talk to her again, if that’s what it takes.”
“Addie won’t agree to that.”
“Make her agree.”
“As you said before, Mr. Black. She’s an adult. She thinks she loves you.”
“A million. That’s what it would cost you to ruin my life. Give it to me instead, and I’ll sign whatever you want.”
Brock narrowed his gaze. He was considering it.
Good.
“A quarter million,” he finally said. “And you never call the police on Addie again.”
“No deal.”
“Half a million.”
I smiled. That was what I was after. Half a mil. I could get my new product off the ground with that.
“Half a million,” I said, “and Addie stops stalking me.”
“I’ve told her to stop, but I can’t control what she ultimately does.”
“Then I can’t guarantee I’ll never call the police on her again.”
Brock met my gaze, his own determined. “No wavering on that part of the deal. You cannot call the police on my daughter. Not ever. I’ll write it into the agreement if I have to. Otherwise, you’ll have my assurance that you won’t be prosecuted on any false allegations. And there will be a nondisclosure agreement.”
…
I jerk upward in bed.
The dream.
More like a nightmare. It played during my sleep in full color, as if I were watching myself on a cinema screen.
Brock Ames. Addison’s father.
Everything that brought us to that final place.
Except it wasn’t a nightmare. All of it occurred ten years ago.
I never allow myself to think about that time, so why now?
Why did the nightmare come now?
Skye sleeps soundly next to me, her soft snore a comfort as my pulse races.
I rack my brain. Something caused this. Something.
Yes, at the club last night.
My desire to share my deepest and darkest secrets with Skye.
There are two—two I don’t talk to anyone about other than my therapist.
The nightmare represents one.
And in truth?
It’s the lesser evil of the two.
I wipe my forehead. I’m sweating. Actually sweating from the images that were so fucking real.
In that moment, I was ten years younger, and everything was happening again.
Everything that…
Fuck.
So much of it made me who I am today. I should be oddly grateful.
“No!” I say aloud.
Skye doesn’t stir.
I’m not surprised. She’s sleeping soundly, letting down from her first experience at Black Rose Underground.
I pick up my phone from its charger on the nightstand.
Six a.m.
Time for me to rise anyway.
I start a pot of coffee and then return to the bedroom to shower and dress. When I return to grab a cup of brew, I glance at the kitchen table. Skye’s signed contract still sits there, where we left it yesterday.
I grab it and stuff it into my briefcase.
Once I get to the office, I’ll have it messengered over to Eugenie.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
After getting out of a meeting, I turn my phone on and find a text from Skye.
Braden, do you know where my Susanne contract is?
I quickly reply.
I had it messengered over to Eugenie this morning.
Her answer dings almost instantly. Okay. Thanks. I’m on my way to see Eugenie.
At the same time, I get a call from my pilot.
“We’re a go for seven p.m., Mr. Black. LaGuardia to Boston.”
“Thank you,” I say. “We’ll be there.”
Skye doesn’t say much once we’re on board the plane. I squeeze her hand.
“Okay?” I ask.
She nods. “Yeah.”
“Don’t lie to me, Skye.”
She turns to me. “I’m fine, Braden. It was just a…weird day.”
“How so?”
She sighs. “You won’t believe this, but Addie showed up at Susanne Corporate again today.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, I believe it.”
“I feel like she’s stalking me, Braden, but how could she know that I’d be there?”
I have no answer. Correction—I have no answer I can actually give to Skye.
“I’m sorry, Skye,” I say. “But she’s nothing. Just forget about her.”
“It’s funny,” Skye says. “I figured something out about her today.”
“What’s that?”
“She’s insecure, Braden. Why else would she be doing all this? She’s afraid of me.”
Skye is no doubt correct. Addison the influencer and Addison the person are two different women altogether. Rather, the impersonation of two different women. They are, in actuality, the same.
Part of me will always feel sorry for Addie.
A bigger part of me, though, wishes she would stay the hell out of my life. And honestly? More than that, I wish she’d stay out of Skye’s life.
Actually, my biggest wish is that Skye is no longer bothered by Addie.