Chapter Twenty-Five

“Which hotel are we staying at?” I ask, too tired to appreciate the luxury of the limousine carrying us from the airport. Secretly, I hope it’s not an Ames Hotel.

“We’re staying in my Manhattan penthouse,” Braden says.

“You have a Manhattan penthouse?”

“Does that surprise you?”

It does, though it shouldn’t. The man has billions. He has a private jet with a pilot and crew on call, for God’s sake. A Manhattan penthouse costs a heck of a lot less than that.

“Manhattan is my home away from home,” he says. “There are things I do here that I don’t do in Boston.”

“What kind of business can’t be done in Boston?”

“I’m not necessarily talking about business, Skye.”

I suppress a jerk but cock my head. Do I want to know what he’s talking about? I’m not sure.

Except I am sure. I want to know everything about Braden, and he’s such a closed book on some things—not just the Addison Ames situation. Can I possibly uncover his secrets here in New York?

Finally, I speak. “What are you talking about, then?”

“I’m not sure you’re ready,” he says.

My skin tightens around me. “Ready for what?”

“The situation with this contract has…muddled things a bit for me personally.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Braden?”

“There are things I do in New York that I don’t do in Boston. Things I’d like to share with you. When you’re ready.”

“Maybe I’m ready.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not.”

“How do you know if you don’t tell me what you’re talking about? And why do you only do these things in New York?”

“Boston is my home. Where I grew up. Where my father lives. I keep certain aspects of my lifestyle out of Boston.”

“If this is about what you like in the bedroom, Braden, I already know all about that.”

He shakes his head. “Oh, Skye… You don’t even know what you don’t know.”

I glance through the tempered glass at the back of the chauffeur’s head. Can he hear us? Probably not. I hope not.

“I know there’s more. I remember that suspension thing hanging from your ceiling.”

“I no longer indulge in that kind of play. I’ve told you.”

“What if I’m interested in suspension?” I’m not, but what if?

“It’s not a hard limit for me. If you’re truly interested, we can look into it. But not without proper and well-built equipment.”

“Hold on. What do you mean it’s not a hard limit for you?”

“A hard limit is something I won’t do, no matter what.”

“Oh? What are your hard limits?”

“I only have one.”

I lift my eyebrows. “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.”

Curiosity whirls through me. What is the one thing Braden won’t do in the bedroom? I have to know. Just like I have to know what went on between him and Addie. Can the two possibly be related?

“Why haven’t we talked about hard limits before now?” I ask.

“Because you weren’t ready. But this contract…”

“Changes everything. So you’ve said. What I don’t understand is why.”

“I wasn’t planning to bring you to my penthouse quite so soon.”

“Then don’t. Book us a suite somewhere. How about the Waldorf-Astoria?”

“I need to be in my penthouse. That’s where I conduct my international business.”

“Not in an office?”

“Black, Inc. has offices in Manhattan, but this negotiation is special.”

“Too special to deal with in an office?”

“It’s easier for me to get what I need to get done here in the middle of the night. I have even better security at this penthouse than I do at the office building.”

“I see.” Though I don’t. Why would he need so much security? Unless… “Braden, are you doing anything illegal?”

He doesn’t answer for a few seconds. Then, “No, Skye. I can’t believe you would ask me that, but since our relationship is still new, I’ll indulge you and say this one time and one time only. I do not engage in anything illegal in my business. You said you trust me.”

“Braden, I—”

“The discussion is over. Either you trust me or you don’t.”

“I trust you.”

It’s the truth. The unadulterated truth. I trust this man. I’ve let him tie me up, bind me, blindfold me. I stayed with him after I found out he dumped Addie after she refused to do something in the bedroom, though I don’t know what it was. Might it have something to do with the hard limit he won’t talk about?

And I believe he conducts his business legally and ethically.

“Thank you,” he says. “Breaking the law is a hard limit for me.”

“For me, too,” I say.

“Then we’re on the same page.”

“So what’s your hard limit in the bedroom?” I asked.

“Nice try,” he says. “I’m still not going there.”

“Then…what kinds of things do you do in Manhattan that you don’t do in Boston? In the bedroom, I mean.”

And with whom? But I know better than to ask. We just had a conversation about trust, and anything he did before me isn’t my business, no matter how curious I am. I already promised myself I’d let it go. Or try, anyway.

The limousine pulls up to a large building. In the darkness, it looks like any other skyscraper.

“I don’t have to tell you,” he says. “We’re here. I can show you.”

My heart pounds.

Am I ready for whatever awaits inside?

The chauffeur opens my door and helps me out of the car. Braden takes my hand, and together we walk toward the door of the building.

“Good morning, Mr. Black.” A uniformed doorman tips his hat.

Braden nods as we enter, and he leads me through an ornate lobby of marble and crystal. I blink against the barrage of light. When we reach an elevator, Braden slides a card through the reader. So far, same as his penthouse in Boston.

We ride in the elevator, seemingly at the speed of light. My knees buckle at the upward thrust.

The elevator finally stops, and the doors open.

I blink.

Then I gasp.